Wallowing in Heaven
	There was a gang of typical rough and tumble early-teen aged boys that lived in our neighborhood on Ellicott Street. "Gang," just meaning a group of boys running around looking for something fun to do. We rarely got into trouble, but we were typical boys. If one of us said, "You know what?" you could bet another one would answer "Chicken snot, run around the house and eat it hot!" Other than the regular "guy games" like Hare and the Hound, Clee Clee, and Tin Can, that we'd play up and down Ellicott Street, there was one thing we used to do from time to time during the summer, that we called "Wallowing in Heaven." Across the street from our house, at the far end of Ellicott Street was a massive oak tree. It was probably the largest oak tree I've ever seen. It, and the 22nd Street Woods, were at opposite ends of our street. It was in front of Mr. and Mrs. Barber's house, and was between the road and our narrow public sidewalk. I remember the sidewalk was buckled way up high from its great roots underneath. I don't know how we discovered this, because you couldn't tell from the ground, but most of the top of the tree was covered solid with flame vines. It was the thickest mat of tightly woven vines you could imagine and we felt it was just made for our enjoyment. In the summer when the flame vines were in bloom it was an impenetrable bright orange carpet of flowers. The carpet was so dense that down below you couldn't even tell we were up there. I'm sure if our parents knew that we were up there they would have had some sort of an attack. I actually don't know how we climbed that huge tree. The size of the trunk was almost as big as two Volkswagen vans, standing on end, one on top of the other. Sometimes we'd take our lunches up with us. We all got allowances. Andy and I each got a quarter a week. The little neighborhood grocery store made the biggest, most delicious Cuban sandwiches you've ever tasted. They were 20 cents each. The big Nehi sodas, and Pepsi's, and R.C. colas were all five cents each. So that's what we spent our allowance on every Saturday. Sometimes if somebody could come up with an extra nickel, we'd get us a moon pie to top off our lunch in the sky. Being up in the top of that tree was about as close to heaven as I can remember. While laying in the beauty of that orange profusion, with sky enveloping us, sometimes we could feel the very slight sway of the canopy. I remember us talking about things that kids talk about as we'd lay there just staring at the blue sky. We'd rest our forearms across our brows to shade our eyes whenever the sun was straight overhead. A lot of times we'd fall asleep on the comfortable swaying bed. And that was a summer Saturday on Ellicott Street, Wallowing in Heaven. Lash Out Loud