My oldest wrote this piece about growing up in a “real” neighborhood with friends and parents who looked out for the kids.
A good friend of mine recently showed me a paper he wrote for a college class that was essentially an ode to our neighborhood gang growing up. I enjoyed reading to not only reminisce through his vantage point, and he saw a few things differently than I remember, but to embrace the special and seemingly increasingly rare experience of having lived and played in a neighborhood with so many kids around my age growing up.
During most of my youth I was almost a nomad. Due to my dad’s job I switched schools and cities with great frequency until I was eight. When we finally stayed in one place, I lived in a small neighborhood where I had one friend who was three years older than me, and all my school friends lived at least a car’s ride away. When I was 13, we were fortunate enough to move into…
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