Perhaps my recollections have been altered by the years, but I see the moments vividly.

At this time, when I was quite young, my family lived a few stones throw from Coney Island. On evenings when the weather was fine, after dinner, my parents and I would take a stroll.

We would often encounter a huge airedale(especially from my youthful height) and his owner. The dog interested me far more than the conversation. And while my gregarious father and mother exchanged pleasantries I would run my fingers through the dog’s stiff, wiry fur.

Our ultimate destinations rarely wavered. We would continue on to a corner grocer and purchase either fudgesicles or creamsicles(divine ice cream that I’ve only found disappointing in the incarnations today) or a shop that sold Italian ices(not prepackaged, but homemade).

Sated and content we would stroll back home.

These simple, but remarkably pleasurable evenings still resonate.

One of my favorite pastimes was instilled.