Spring, Early 1965
I remember it now, like it was yesterday; though as a child I had completely blocked it out of my mind. I was allowed to play on the front porch. But admonished never to leave it: the porch was my playground. There I threw a big yellow ball up in the air. My five-year old runty body tossing the ball underhanded as high as I could. I hoped the ball could reach the clouds and knock over one of them.