Deeper and deeper into late summer, the nights on our porch are filled with quiet discussion, the smoke of Mr. Cassette’s new cigar passion, tinkling of ice cubes and the large numbers of cicadas circled together in their droning chorus. This is
Tag: children’s cabin
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Part One: The first time I remember seeing Hanscom Park was at age 16. We had gotten there by car, many of us, having packed into Someone’s Mother’s Retired Old Boat. The large kind of gas guzzling cars that would be handed down from kid to kid