Chapter One

When I was a young man being raised in the heartland of America, I had many thoughts about the origins of the world.

I was raised in the time when kids couldn't wait to go outside and play. That was before the computer age, before video games, back when television had only three channels, and at 1:00 a.m. the three networks would play the national anthem to signal the end of the broadcast day. It was before CDs and DVDs, before cell phones and crack. When nobody had air-conditioning, summer days and hot summer nights were endless, and we slept with the window open at night. Kool-aid was the drink of the summer.

Cereal boxes had that great prize in the bottom of the box, and popsicles had two sticks so you could break them in half and share with a friend. You could catch lightning bugs in a jar and have a best friend sleep over. Those were the days of pillow fights and laughing so hard that your stomach hurt. It was a time when any parent could discipline any child or use him to carry groceries, and nobody, not even the child, thought anything about it. You might be sent to the principal's office, but that was nothing compared to the fate that awaited you at home.

Back then, kids intermingled with each other on a regular basis, and the bond that was created during that time spent with friends and family and our friends' families proved to be a lifelong bond that was not easily broken, because of our struggles and the good times we shared growing up.

Back then, your friend's parents or a neighbor could tell you what to do, and if you didn't adhere to thei