That period of time between some horrible event and the politicization of said event, wherein I at least assumed people were being respectful of the dead.
My general assumption, throughout most of my youth, that my pope actually cared about me, and that he was not going to usher in the sort of craziness that can be found in a Jack Schick cartoon. Oh, I guess I had a more hopeful view about the U.N. back then too, but now I have this dull sensation that there's a global governance movement being kicked off under the guise of environmentalism that will end up with us having bio-identification ware on our persons. Freaking fundies are going to have a field day telling us they told us so.
Hope. I miss hope. Of course, when I was hopeful, I was usually getting screwed. Going to college. Watching people less intelligent get better options because of the color of their skin, their gender, and- in many cases- just because they made obeisance to the ideology. But hope at least felt good. I had a general expectation, that turned out to be horribly wrong, about being able to get a decent job, a decent wife, and have babies.