And like a good neighbor
Before the bulldozer came, it was a wonderful place to play. It had tall grass that I could stomp down to hide from my imaginary foes.
One day I looked across the street and it was gone. I asked Mama why Fort Randy now had wood frames and fill dirt. She said, “They’re going to build a house there!”
The impact of that life-scarring event was not lost on a 9-year-old former fort builder
I sat on the kitchen counter so I could see the family moving in. If I was going to sacrifice a perfectly good fort for them, the first thing I wanted to see was if they had any kids my age — preferably boys, although pretty girls would do.