The other day it was raining, a nice Pacific Northwest rip roaring, gusty, drenching wet. Because I was snuggled up at my kitchen table with lamb stew that I picked up from the take-out place at the San Francisco Ferry Building on my way home from work, I didn't mind the storm.

 

I was engaged in An American Childhood by Annie Dillard. What a great writer she is. She grew up on the east coast and one of the chapters included a vignette about throwing snowballs at passing cars. Much to their surprise, one car that they blasted with a soft one dead center on the windshield was driven by the man who wouldn't give up.

 

He chased her and her companion through alleys and backyards for blocks and blocks to hear her tell of it. Finally, determined beyond reason, he caught the two of them and gave them the chewing out that they richly deserved.

 

She was exhilarated! The chase was everything and it lived large in her memory.

 

Now there is a book that can get you started remembering the details of childhood...