This past summer I spent a considerable amount of time golfing, although what I do may not actually be considered "golf" except in the broadest definition.

I had contacted a friend to play golf with me, set up a tee time and had everything arranged. The night before we were supposed to go out and play golf, I received a phone call from him stating that he couldn't make it because he had to take his 11-year-old son on a "play date." This play date consisted of he and his son picking up his son's friend, going to McDonald's and then going to the movies.

Now, I learned how to play when I was young. No one taught me. No one arranged play dates for my friends and me. We just got together and played. Mostly outside.

The only time we played inside was during inclement weather. (Read: Thunderstorms that would float Noah's Ark with no problem; blizzards that would make the Inuit seek shelter in Florida, etc.) Play dates? We didn't need no stinking play dates! Left to our own devices and imaginations, we were free to play. It was the law of being a kid. You played, and you stayed outside while you played, and you didn't ask your parents to arrange for someone to come and play with you!

Okay, now that the ranting is over, I'll get to the meat of this column: Concord play in '63 B.C. (Before Computers).

The best time to play was Saturday. It was a given free day - no homework, no going to church - only early-morning chores and then FREEDOM TO PLAY. Play time lasted most of the day and went something like this: Wake up, grab a bowl of Cheerios without milk, plop down in front the TV and watch "Boomtown" until 8 or so, watch some other cartoon until 9ish and then go out to play. Well, after the following scripted dialogue with my father.

Dad: "What are you going to do today?"

Me: "Go out and play."

Dad: "With who and where?"

Me: "Everyone and upstreet and then to the movies"

Dad: "How come there's no milk in your cereal bowl?"

Me: "I used powdered."

Before he could process this, I was out the door and on my way, meeting up with various and sundry friends along the way to upstreet. For those of you unfamiliar with "upstreet," a brief definition is in order: Going upstreet or downstreet meant that you were heading uptown. Upstreet usually indicated either going in a northerly direction or climbing a hill. Downstreet meant you were heading south or going down a hill. Both directions had the inevitable endpoint of downtown. You went either upstreet or downstreet to go downtown. There was no uptown downtown. And on your way back, the terms upstreet and downstreet were moot because at that point you were just going home. But I digress.

As I said, Saturday mornings were spent outside, heading for downtown to get stuff from the stores prior to ending up at the movies at 1 o'clock or so. You took your allowance, any change you could scrounge from cashing in bottles and any other money you may be able to mooch off your parents and went out for the day. No real plans etched in stone, with the exception of going upstreet and to the movies. Money was divided between two pockets, right hand pocket - movie money, left hand pocket - buy stuff money. Never, ever did you mix the two!

As we walked en masse (usually 10 or so neighborhood buddies), plans for doing stuff upstreet began to take shape. First stop was the local Mom-and-Pop store, which in my neighborhood was Frank's Market, to get something to eat for your trek. After all, it was almost a half mile to our destination, and one needed to maintain stamina and endurance for the day's activities. Twenty-five cents worth of penny candy would sustain one's energy level for quite some time, which was especially necessary for contests like who could shout the loudest, who could walk the curb the longest without falling off and other feats of one gunmanship. I never won any of these, by the way. (next page »)