I was 7; and then 9 when Saigon fell. But my parents woke me up to come out to the living room and watch the coverage on TV, in jubilation, basically.

The thing is, though, I *would* say I remember the Vietnam War, despite being so little. I remember being afraid of all the army green trucks, in Madison, being horrified by that famous photo of the woman who'd been napalmed, worrying everytime I heard a plane overhead, going to demonstrations and helping make signs...