Recent memories--

Sigler. His house on Izard Street, the creaky floors, the coziness of it, he and I would get comfortable on the leather chairs and watch classic films- Eight Men Out, True Confessions, older & grainy on VHS from having been watched too many times on an aging VCR.

The Incarnation fair. 5th & 6th grade. You looked forward to the fair every year either in July or August, it was always pretty hot outside and dusty, but they had great food, cheeseburgers, fries, sno-cones, ice cream, a childhood dream. And Mahoney would have been there, we would have drank the sno-cones once we squeezed the juice out of them. We would have wandered far & wide in & out of booths which promised prizes, gifts, and fun experiences of games.

Spring in Omaha. 7th -9th grade, the dismal social years. My mother wanting me to get out of the house. My experimenting with basketball games with Doug, Laugh, and Jason from up the street. Those guys just had that air about them like a lot of other guys it seems at that age. Young guys are so awkward, so eager to prove themselves to every one else. They cut each other down, man, it always seemed like every man for themselves at that age. Even so, they probably just wanted to play ball with someone different, see what I was made of.

Brooke walked on the side of the road with me and it reminded me of playing basketball in the spring, the wind would pick up and sometimes it was a hinderance. You'd loft the ball up and the wind would catch it... wasn't it hard enough playing without the elements. But the gravel would collect on the side of the road, and I'd hear the crunch of the ball on the gravel, my tennis shoes crunching over the ground. Sometimes you'd stumble on it and kick the little pebbles all over.