Share what you know about the year you were born.
There is something quietly unsettling about being born in 1952.
It was the year the skies stopped being innocent—and it was the year I arrived.
While I was being born into an ordinary family, under an ordinary name, the U.S. military was being overwhelmed by reports of objects that outflew, outclimbed, and outmaneuvered every known aircraft. Radar screens lit up with returns where nothing should have been. Pilots described craft that seemed untouched by gravity. Washington, D.C.—the most protected airspace in the country—was breached again and again, as if something unseen was calmly testing the limits.
And all of this was happening while I took my first breath.
That same year, Project Blue Book was formalized—not out of curiosity, but out of necessity. The unknown had become persistent enough to require files, language, and silence. At the same time, humanity crossed another invisible line when thermonuclear fire was unleashed for the first time. The world changed its relationship with power, with fear, and with the sky.
I sometimes sit with the timing of it. Not dramatically—just honestly. I was born at a threshold year. A year when reality itself felt less stable, when what we were told and what was being seen no longer aligned.
There’s nothing I claim from that except the feeling it leaves me with: that some of us are born during moments when the world quietly shifts, when questions enter the atmosphere and never fully leave.
It doesn’t make me special.
It just makes the timing… eerie.
My Near Death Experience Arts and Thoughts 