Today is a perfect day. The sun is strong and bright and is sitting in a deep blue sky. The air is still. The temperature will stay around the high 60’s.

I’m keeping close to hearth and home this weekend. Though summer will not officially arrive until June 20th, this weekend is its unofficial start. I was out yesterday and got caught in traffic, the bane of summer around here. It is time to practice my expletives.

When I was a kid, this would have been a day to ride my trusty steed, my bicycle. I never tired of riding. I went in different directions on different Saturdays. I had favorite places like the zoo, Weiss dairy farm and even walking through the square with my bicycle in hand. The square back then was the hopping spot. It had all the stores except The First National, a grocery store down Main Street from the square. I used to get my 50¢ allowance on Fridays so I was flush with money to do a bit of shopping. That money never stayed long in my pocket.

I remember my first visit to Fenway Park. I was twelve. It was a night game. My friend had a sister who worked with the Sox. She got the tickets. We arrived early to watch batting practice. I still remember walking out of the tunnel at the back of left field and seeing Fenway for the first time. The lights were on, and it was as bright as day. The grass was lush. I could hear the crack of the bat, and I watched arcing liners being caught by outfielders. One ball landed right where we stood, and I grabbed it. My friend’s sister took it to get autographed. I don’t know what happened to that ball, but I looked at it so many times I still remember some of the signatures, Frank Malzone, Gary Geiger and Bill Monbouquette. Years later, when Fenway was being refurbished, my friends bought me a brick for the floor of the concourse with my name on the top line, on the second line was Peace Corps and on the third line was 1969-1971. I got a certificate of authenticity and a map showing where I could find it in the concourse. It was in the Bill Monbouquette section.