The Way We Were

The fire hall bell means 6-o’-clock, it’s time to come home. Irv is on, chicken’s off the grill.

Summers spent rampaging house to house, hopping pool to pool, forming ever-larger pickup games of baseball till the evening’s final light. No fences. No enemies. Just kids, racing each other around a neighborhood named for a man who built the homes that housed us all. Continue reading

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