06/16/2026
One small sugar cube. One very long line. And every kid in that gymnasium understood exactly what it meant.
Our parents had watched neighbors lose children to polio — had seen the iron lungs, the leg braces, the empty desks. So when that nurse held out that little white cube, you opened your mouth without being asked twice. No argument, no hesitation. The sweetness on your tongue was the taste of something your generation would never have to fear again. Science and sacrifice had bought you that moment, and the adults in the room knew the price.
We come from a generation that understood what it meant to be protected — because we remembered what it meant not to be.
