This is the second in this series about The Park I grew up at. I got in my first fight at this slide. Dirk Thompson–some of you reading this may know him–he may even read it sometime, but will likely not remember. We were standing here and I did something or said something and the next thing I knew I had a sore jaw. It didn’t really hurt as much as I thought it would, but I hated it. Some people are born loving fighting. Wasn’t me. I would do almost anything to avoid a fight. This tendency was almost worse than being a fighter. I admired my brother’s ability to blow up and say exactly whatever crazy thing was on his mind. He regretted it many times over, but I was always secretly jealous. Swallowing venom is about as good for you as it sounds. But for some reason I did not fight back in many instances and I kept silent about things that needed my voice. Sometimes events themselves rendered me not only speechless, but silent. Some of those events happened right here in this park. See the pool off to the left? We will get there.