We lived at the top of a hill in an area of west Ft Worth called Ridglea Hills. My father was one of the first to buy a lot there and build a house. when I was little you could look out and see the golf course and empty fields  .You could even see Western Hills Motel which was in itself a very unique world.  This was soon after the war and in rapid order Ridglea Hills was filled and overfilled with houses and parents and kids .You couldn't spit without hitting another baby boomer.

At the time, however I was blissfully unaware of just how vast our army was. All I could concentrate on was the hill that we were on top of and the half a dozen or so kids on either side of us.

Soon all manner of stuff was being flung off that hill :

wagons , sleds, roller skates  ,bicycles, go carts, motorcycles, running and not, unicycles, random wheels nailed wildly to boards, and God know what else all went down that hill.

And with each voyage from the top of the hill down came an exhilarating abandonment to the fates and a inexorable trudge back up the hill.

As with all hills there were two sides to it .

One side arced more gently and gracefully, fast enough for mild thrills.... yet tame, its final safe uncoiling came in a slow even leisurely pace, which allowed for both contemplation of the ride and  a refocusing on what came next. Bill McDonald lived on that side, on my left as I hurtled down, his father was a doctor and a much coveted go cart was sitting in their carport awaiting my glance.

At the bottom of that side of the hill ,again on the left, a beautiful and mysterious girl could be seen moving swiftly from car into house.... car into house. The tantalizing  silent scene replayed itself daily as I passed by.

The other side of the hill however, what would have been the north side, must have been created by men still angry after the war . Maniacal 1950s asphalt  laying, road building ,engineers of death. That side of hill  crashed suddenly at its base with a cross street .....A poignant yet fruitless stop sign standing menacingly on the right.

It was only for the older wizened child, the child who sought the sickening sensations felt on roller coasters  and tilt a whirls, the dreamer of bigger more dangerous dreams.

Well here I sit editing this thing with little time left before I have to give this talk...There is so much more...Richard Ellwell, the bad kid that lived on the dangerous side of the hill The three girls ...I cant remember their last names....or their firsts....... also lived there. I had a very vivid dream years ago about those girls......... I think  it was when I hit puberty or something like that was going on and........I will save this dream for my analyst

But this thought is about wheels nailed to boards and me zooming down the hill past it all......I will have to finish it later