Jonathon tells me that people enjoy reading my reflections. He is a connoisseur of writing, and I listen to his advice. It is raining cats and dogs in honor of Dog Days. Rain fascinates me. I took a short Woods Walk. Perhaps the rain is a heat breaker.

Eldorado was a quiet place that seemed to be happening for me as a kid. I was a watcher of people. I picked up on many subtle nuances of my surroundings. When you are a closet introvert, it is amazing what you can learn by listening. I saw loneliness in the eyes of popular kids in school. Being a teenager is a particular challenge. I attended a church that my extended family was affiliated with, where no one seemed to smile. Faith was portrayed as a system of dos and don’ts rather than the love of Christ. Rules were designed for the congregation and did not apply to the clergy. The church had the most threadbare carpet I had ever seen.

Free thought was not encouraged. The hippie movement taught us that. Conformity was praised, and thinking outside the box was discouraged. These were the days of Dick Van Dyke and Father Knows Best or Leave It To Beaver. Eldorado was a blue-collar town with little thought of College. Churches had a profound influence on people’s lives. It was important for your resume to have a church affiliation. A high percentage of people were members of a church in the 1960s.

The television show Peyton Place was popular in my town. It was a secret pleasure of the residents. Affairs and Adultery were themes of the program. Many kids were married soon after high school graduation. Adulthood began the day after commencement. Some high school graduates were drafted to serve in Vietnam. I left home at the old age of 17. I was wet behind the ears, but I thought I was dry.

Pounds Hollow was a profound pleasure. With no air conditioning, it was the coolest you could be in the summer. The lake water was welcome and full of mystery. Jackie and I, along with Cousin Brenda and, now and again, Johnny, loved to ride in the ’57 Chevy convertible to the place of dreams. There were the town fathers and mothers in their swimsuits. Our teachers and we students all looked equal. Neva J told me that Johnny’s mother took money for love. I did not concern myself with her vocation. The Hollow had hidden secrets. There was the land far away from the Safety Rope that I floated to on numerous occasions. No one else performed this courageous maneuver other than Jackie from time to time. People looked like action figures on the sandy beach on the horizon. Finally, I could not determine who Neva J and Brenda were. Jackie and I were in no man’s land. Or at least no man’s lake. I realized I could do anything that I set my mind to. Pounds Hollow proved it.

Franny was the daughter of our neighbors, the Colemans, and was a magnetic personality. She and Neva J became friends, and her son Johnny and I did as well. I went with them to Clarksville, Tennessee, for an overnight stay. It was a fun time.

During our overnight stay in Clarksville, Franny changed blouses in front of the one mirror in the room, revealing more than I had seen in those formative years.