If I wanted to describe my childhood with just one word, I’d say outside. Get home, do your homework right way, then out the door, spending as much time as possible outside. Not just to avoid chores, but being inside was boring. There was so much to do outside, alone or with the neighbor kids, in my yard or theirs, or on a quiet side street: hide and seek, kick ball, building roads for toy cars, leaf-walled houses, make believe. If we had to go to the bathroom, we’d find out whose Mom wasn’t home so we’d remain invisible to the inside world. Supper, eaten together as a family, was an important time to re-fuel. Homemade food and snacks, dessert, white bread, and bedtime snacks were served daily, but I don’t remember any chubby kids, because our outside didn’t give all those calories a chance to take hold of our inside. We would always beg for more time when the dreaded call came to come in, it was getting dark, and most times we’d wait until call number 3. We didn’t watch TV every day, mostly because we didn’t have time, but also because it was a special treat.