Lately I’ve been going through some old journals/sketchbooks.

In 1994 we were staying at a hotel in Indiana when I overheard the following while swimming at the pool:

Boy: What’s your address?

Christer (my son, 7 years old): 820.

Boy: Mine is 15.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Then,

Christer: “Which floor do you live on?”

“2nd.”

“I live on the 5th floor.”

Boy: “Which window?”

“I think it’s on the other side. I think it’s about that one.”

“I live on the 2nd floor under the door.”

(P.S. That’s me in 2nd grade in 1970!)