Here is the start of my memoir

Starting at the start, I was born in Women’s Hospital in Detroit, Michigan on April 14, 1947. My parents were immigrants – my Mom, Anne Anderson, from Scotland; and my Dad, Tom Weir, from Canada.

They bought a small house around the time I was born in Royal Oak, a Detroit suburb. I had an older sister, Nancy, and soon had two younger sisters, Kathy and Carole.

As a child, my hero, thanks to TV, was Davy Crockett, so my nickname became Davy. I had a toy rifle and a coonskin cap and I used to march around with the girls behind me saying “C’mon men!”

The girls included Susie and Bonnie Lloyd, from a couple houses down the street.

Some years later, I was accepted into the University of Michigan. I think that was 1965. As an awkward freshman, I encountered a small group of anti-war protesters sitting in a circle on campus, surrounded by a taunting group of frat boys.

I identified with the protesters, even though I didn’t yet know what they were protesting about.

My parents sent me to college to be an actuary, mainly because I was good at math. But during my first semester at Michigan, I found out I was not nearly as good at math as I would need to be to ever be an actuary.

My best friend from high school, Howard Kohn, also at U-M, saved me. He told me to come over to the office of the Michigan Daily, our college newspaper.

My first assignment was to write about the Michigan wrestling team. I stayed up late studying, because I didn’t know wrestling was even a sport.

After I attended wrestling practice, I went into the locker room to interview the coach. In my reporter’s notebook, I had a long set of prepared questions, which I asked as professionally as I could, then snapped the notebook shut and walked out – straight into the shower.

I finally changed my major to journalism but rarely went to class. Things were changing all around.

That winter, as the snow fell, we all wore hats. When it started most of us had short hair. When the spring came and we took off our hats, many of us had long hair – a sign of protest.