Blow the whistle to stop the kids from their running around so you can finish dinner before it gets dark. You ask the eldest kid to prepare the camping lanterns for lighting after he finishes his meal. You intend to spend the next hour on the hammock for the beer in the cheap steel cooler while listening to the early evening sounds of the night creatures of the woods all around you. You have always been fascinated by the sounds of the insects in the evening, recalling your boyhood days out in the farmhouse of your Dad way back.

This is a hot summer afternoon and maybe you do not expect the temperature to cool down a bit until after dark. Therefore, the best thing to do is just stay out in the hammock, maybe even the whole night, if it stays warm enough far into the night. Your wife asked you to set up the other hammock right next to yours so she can join you with the beer – she has learned to tackle a can or two of the stuff, after which she becomes a talking machine that somehow helps lull you into sleep. She only wakes you up to inquire if you want some more beer from the steel cooler.

The kids will soon gather around you expecting the stories you have of your boyhood in the farming county from where you came before coming to the big city. The kids, all city-bred, find great fascination with your stories of the life in the remote rural areas which they only have to view on TV. You never had the chance yet to take them out to the place of your birth to visit their grandparents who have stuck it out in the farm all these years. Your youngest especially asks all sorts of questions on what kind of life you had in the farm – was there a coleman cooler then in your youth, was there a telephone you could use, and so on and so forth,