"I was born on the fifty-sixth day of the fifty-sixth year of the twentieth century in a small town known as Elm City, twenty miles north of the capitol of the state of Maine. The events of these stories occurred between the years of 1963 and 1967 when I was six to eleven —or in the first through the fifth grades. They are told as truly as I can remember them, and I tell ya baby, some of these stories I'll never forget. Those were harsh days of long hours camped on a couch in front of our color TV, watching Flintstones, Huckleberry Hound and Captain Kangaroo. They were the days of Spaghetti-O's and french fries, of Mallow Bars and Orange Crush. And when Kennedy was assassinated, my teacher yelled at me 'cause I said, "Who cares about a stupid President, anyway?" (his funeral preempted all of my favorite cartoons on TV). My favorite story was "Moonface," by Jack London, my favorite TV show was Combat, my favorite thing was a bicycle ride down the "Bumpy Sidewalk," and, oh yeah, shooting off my air rifle. My best friends were Paul and my next door neighbor Brucie, and my girlfriend was Susan Swallow who moved to Houlton, Maine, when I was in fourth grade. It was a time when all the elms were dying of dutch-elm disease and Paul and I made bets as to where our birthdates fell in the 'lottery' (though we were way too young for the draft). And every summer the "ding-ding" man would drive through our neighborhood selling ten-cent popcicles and ice cream sandwiches. And even though Maine sometimes has weather that can kill you, it always seemed like the sun was shining, the birds were singing, and the air was always fresh. Except, of course, when the factory across the river was shooting out sulfur."
Ah, the stuff you get up to when you're a kid! That's what this collection is about and quite funny it is, too. Recipient of the Xeric 1994 self-publishing award. Printed in 1995.