The long evenings remind me of the porch setters. In the days of youth, most could be found on their front porches until sunset at 9:00 P:M:. Conversation, fibs, and fables were abundant. Old men worked out the problems of the world. Old women discussed old men. The kids were in the yard with open canning jars in the adept endeavour of capturing lightning bugs. The Cooks on the corner had an in-ground swimming pool. We passed by in reverence of the majesty.

Mosquitoes were a fact of life, and a few bites were our rite of passage. No one went inside until it was bedtime. It was hot with no air conditioning and a box fan or two blowing hot air. We did not lock the front door; we needed the screen door to help air circulate. Earl would say to crack our bedroom windows to get the maximum effect of the fan-cooled air circulation.

Everyone had their windows open in the closely placed one-lot houses on the streets of Eldorado. There was a pleasant cacophony of sounds, television, and conversation that wafted through the warm air. Spring and almost summer nights were good for telling ghost stories. I had a trundle bed, and when one of my friends came over, we told stories on the unique bed. If the stars were aligned, a thunderstorm would rise up. The bang of the thunder and the room-illuminating lightning provided action effects to the Frankenstein Story as well as cool wind and refreshing rain. There was the fear that Chet might fall out of the top trundle bed in the noise of the summer storm.

Life’s pace was slower in my halcyon days. When you do not have much money, there is little temptation. Peace, pleasure, and happiness came from the common cloth we all had. We would have put on ‘aires,’ but no one would have noticed. We all liked Dairy Queen. You could get a big ice cream cone for 5 cents. That same cone today would be much more. Dairy Queen invented Dilly Bars. Quite a hit with the Eldorado kids. If you were adventurous, your poison was a Malt. Malt is much different than a shake. Malts are shakes, big brothers.

We believed what the President told us. For a while, we had JFK, and after his assassination, we idolized him. His photo was on many living room walls. To this day, we wonder what might have been.

Neva J’s sisters and her mom were avid churchgoers. I attended the Orpheum Theatre on Sunday for my early years. The quiet peace of the movies engulfed me. Watching the movie two or three times reveals that the ending does not seem to change.

In Sauk Village in the suburbs, Dad cooked out on Sunday while George and Helen sun-tanned in the chaise lounge chairs in the yard. George called me Dr. Brooks. They had thick Chicago accents and seemed like family. The rhythms of the street we lived on made me think of the television show Leave It to Beaver. I had friends along the street. Steve and Susie had marionette puppets. They put on shows. The marionettes fascinated me. A rich life full of hidden mysteries.