My brother, ten years my senior, was neither sporty nor macho, so the more mainstream fellows my sisters dated were fascinating creatures to adolescent Danny. As one of them waited for my sister to iron her hair (yes, steam iron and board), he shared a vivid childhood account.

Once, he and his running buddies were playing at a weekend-dormant construction site. The project involved adding a wing to our largest nursing home. Anyway, they became enamored with one of the large empty cable spools. One of them had the “cool” idea of rolling it down a grassy hill. I found it mesmerizing how my sister’s fellow described his posse watching the wooden wheel’s two-hundred-yard journey. I’m sure there was a collective ‘oh, shit’ as their missile bashed in the side of a parked car. Of course, they ran off, and we’re never held accountable. To this day, I can’t see one of these spools and not think of that recount.