I remember as if yesterday the crowd that was gathered outside Wisp Smithers’ shack one July 4th when I was young. Wisp was an old fellow who lived a few miles from our place. We were coming home from the fireworks in town when Dad slowed the car, attempting to…
The summer hours of daylight last long into the evening and remind me of the days when we played softball until the mosquitoes got so thick we couldn’t see the bases. We were a motley group with no more batting, catching or outfielding ability than our dogs. What we did…