Tom Swift Writer’s Notebook

I’m not much for reunions but I went to one last night — a gathering of old friends from the neighborhood where I lived until I was middle school age. The neighborhood was a square block that surrounded an oversized pond we referred to simply as The Lake. The Lake served as a rare sort of playground, with swimming in the summer, skating in the winter, and the potential for spontaneous fun every day of the year. The evening stirred so many emotions and even 24 hours later the happy memories keep popping into my head. I wouldn’t have used the word while living there but what we had was a community, with parents who liked and trusted each other enough to let their kids — most homes had at least two — do what kids are meant to do: run without purpose, start and umpire their own games, throw hockey sticks at each other, and develop friendships they would never forget. It wasn’t the first time the realization struck but perhaps it’s never hit me with as much force: I was so lucky to live there.

This post was added on Sunday, September 21, 2008 by Tom Swift at 23:59 and is filed under Swift Boat.