Remembering the Child - Rooftop Picnic
Near my childhood home in Southampton, there was an abandoned property where I used to hang out. A long curved driveway provided a darkened path up through wildly overgrown evergreens, raspberry vines, and daylilies up to a large house, perfectly intact and fully furnished inside, but deteriorating outside. The nearby garage had big holes in the roof, but I used to climb up there for elevated picnics, enjoying the contemplative and somewhat mysterious atmosphere of the place.
Remembering the Boy - In the Woods
When I was a child we spent summers in Hampton Bays at my grandparents' cottage. It faced a spring-fed creek that flowed out to Shinnecock Bay. The earliest experience, of which I have no recollection, was when my mother and I spent the hurricane of 1938 in a closet in the cottage. My earliest memory is of spending time outside, beyond the back yard of the cottage in a wooded half acre where small oak trees grew. Sitting on the ground, I enjoyed the quiet solitude, the ambien
Remembering the Girl by the Stream
A short block from my house in Stayton OR, there was a gently flowing creek through the thick woods. It happens that it was a shallow creek that I could access by crawling beneath the foliage and through the brushy undergrowth. As a five year old, I loved the gentle sound of moving water. It left me with a serene feeling as I emerged from the densely wooded area. I wasn’t to play there, so sometimes I would just pay a quick visit. I imagined myself on a brave expedition as I
