旼컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴커 � Those Were The Days! Page 28 � 쳐컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴캑 � was something only the rich had or some place of business had. So we took � � refuge on the roof. The two of us would sit and talk about anything and � � everything. We talked about all the problems in the world and about noth- � � ing. I stop and wonder, every once an a while, if my brother remembers � � these talks or not, as I do. No matter. � � I can also remember walking, yeah, what a concept, walking, to the city � � swimming pool. We had to cut through a cemetery to get there quickly. If � � we went around that cemetery it would take us easily a mile more in dis- � � tance to get to the city pool. If I walked with just my brother and his � � friends, not taking any of my friends along, those big dumb jerks would � � always go into the cemetery with me and start telling me some weird story � � about the place and about mid-way through they took off running, leaving � � me behind with fear rising quickly in my heart. I tried, as hard as I � � could, to stay up with them, but never could I. They being boys and two � � years older than me. But even that, in retrospect, was fun and funny. My � � brother was always paid back by me short sheeting his bed. � � My thoughts are pulled away from the past as my son comes back into the � � house with the dogs romping in, still in a playful mood. I call him over � � and tell him about the game of kick the can. I tell him everything, so � � he and his friends can try playing it that night on the cal-de-sac we now � 읕컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴켸