Summer Days...
I glanced out the window a few days ago while working, and the memory of what I would do as a kid during summer days hit me like a brick. The earliest that I remember my time as my own must have been when I was five or six. We lived in a ranch-style house in what was then known as "Kutzman's Edition" - seriously, that was what the first sign said. Out in the countryside north of Sartell, Minnesota, on what I knew as "The Great River Road". Up where we lived, you could no longer see the Mississippi most days thanks to the larger yards and heavy trees. We were probably a quarter-to-half mile from the river at that point, which was probably something of a relief to my mother, who was attempting to keep safe one boy and two or three girls. But there were days when I was released to the tender mercies of the neighborhood, where I found a bunch of other boys to hang out and play with. The rather rural area was slowly succumbing to sprawling housing de...