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In the evening, except on Sunday, young adults and ‘teen-agers used to congregate at "The Corner" where Ken Docherty's forge provided a loitering place. Here, they stood about, swapping yarns -- some of them true j relating accounts of their prowess in trials of strength or skill -- some of them with a basis in fact; or discussing a projected visit to the city. There was a lot of horseplay and roughhousing, varied by an occasional practical joke played one of the teams tethered in front: of Sept Colwill's store across the road. Mostly, it all added up to a lot of harmless clowning -- a vent for surplus energy and high spirits.

Although a few pre-'teenagers used to hang on the fringes of those gatherings, I was never permitted to be one of them. My parents believed strongly, and doubtless correctly, that boys allowed to run unsupervised were bound to get into devilment and ultimately into serious trouble. Furthermore, it had been decided that I should receive an education beyond what I should obtain in New Haven school. In that era, there were no study periods during school hours; all lessons had to be prepared at home, which provided another excellent reason why I should spend my evenings at my books -- not at The Corner. Although I privately deplored the restriction, there was no gainsaying it. A parent's word was law -- a condition that the present-day world would be the better for adopting.

Summer, by which I mean the period between the first of June and the end of September, was our ideal season. We had discarded our heavy clothing and our boots; going barefoot gave us a marvelous sense of complete freedom which we enjoyed until we had reached =~ at the_very latest -- our sixteenth year, when our feet forever "lost the fresdom of the sod." Thenceforth, according to the standards of that day, bare feet were taboo

-- a gross offense to good taste.

Summer meant loaded apple trees; Yellow Transparents and Red Astrachans;

luscious ripening cherries and purpling plums. Those treasures we always