I just had one of those “Sherman! Set the Wayback Machine for…” moments.
When I was a kid growing up in Michigan, back in the 1950s, my best friend was Tom Sawyer.
No joke, Thomas Collins Sawyer Junior, or Tommy [“Big” Tom was my father’s university colleague, best friend, and former college roommate]. They lived catty corner behind us, with our yards joining at one corner.
In a post on another forum, I mentioned camping for over 50 years. After I had posted, I realized that was incorrect. Tommy and I started camping when we were probably six or seven years old… just out in the backyard, in crummy old sleeping bags, on a tarp, under the wonder of the stars. I’m 68 years old now, so that means I’ve been camping for over 60 years.
My, my, my. Same stars, but how the time does fly.