Our bellies heaved after our day of playing, running and riding our bikes. Sweat ran down our foreheads. Even the humidity somehow felt good. At night, for those of us with only a box fan to move the air, the bed sheets stuck to us as we reached for the cool side of the pillow until sleep overtook us.If you're looking for a source of inspiration for your life...this isn't the book for you. There are no ghastly tales of parental abuse or triumphs over grinding poverty awaiting you inside these pages. There are no drugs (aside from generous doses of Bactine, tincture of iodine and Murcurochrome for my various and sundry childhood injuries), no murders or terrorist plots.This is a very loose collection of recollections from my youth in the 1960's and 1970's.
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