Big boys don't cry

They hadn’t always lived on Harborview Drive 1295. The street hadn't even existed before the early sixties when roads were ploughed and asphalted in preparation for yet another new housing development. Within no time this new road would be lined with ranch style houses, one-story suburban classics, with used brick trim and pastel stucco. Here in the dry grasses along the crest of the San Francisco East Bay, the shiny new splitwood roofs were all that protected them from the blazing California sunshine. No trees had been planted yet, but there were some native, low-growing live oaks on the back slopes, and some plane trees just off the dirt road to the pauper burial grove in the valley below. That's where he went to play, in the shade of the trees that had been there for so many years.

...to be continued