In my best memory it is always the summer of 1955, when I was just 16 and the sun-filled days were held in an aspic of innocent ennui; when the unmarred moon was much fuller and counted Indian months; when the air was clear, the river clean for swimming and my girlfriend a gentle soul who slow-danced with me to Sinatra tunes.Remember the movie "Picnic?" That's how it was...(snip)Click here for complete article.