The parents of the children who played so freely while living on an Extension were children of the Great Depression and World War II. They were barely out of adolescence when their country called them and they answered; their young shoulders had carried a heavy weight. Then Hitler was dead and there were plenty of jobs for the young men and affordable housing as well; it was time to settle down, enjoy the peace, get married, and have babies.

These noble people were our parents; the fathers went to work each day and all the mothers were at home. They were responsible and hard-working individuals who believed in fair play, good manners, balanced diets, and "fresh air and exercise."

I am trying to think of the word to describe this; the best I can do is "commune." To an extent all the mothers raised all the children. I can state without hesitation that no parents on our block ever said to their children: "Stay away from those Golding girls. There's something about their parents that I don't quite trust." There was assurance that the children would be safe and secure with any mother who was available.

The swimming at South Park or Blue Spruce; the picnics and the cookouts; coming home after playing all day with the knees of your pants torn out, taking a bath, having Oreos and milk, then the plunge into sleep; Halloween and Hanukkah; the school picnic days at our beloved amusement park, Kennywood. This is a sentence that could go on for endless paragraphs. So I will end now by saying I Love You to all the people I knew then, at that time.