Friday, February 22, 2008  The Sledding Hill  Every adult who
grew up anywhere that had the slightest bit of snowfall
remembers the definitive sledding hill of their youth.  Mine was
at the end of my block; a curving slope that ended on the next
street up.  We all took our sleds - wood with metal runners - to
the top of the hill for the run down. There was a rumor that
soaping your runners made for a faster run but I never remember
testing that theory, as my mother wouldn’t “waste” soap for such
an endeavor.  There were about thirteen boys and two girls in
our gang. One of the girls had blonde Shirley Temple curls and
always boasted that she had once won a baby beauty contest down
the shore. Her mother claimed that we picked on her when we were
sledding, so whenever she was there her mother would stand at
the bottom of the hill guarding her daughter.  I don’t remember
having to stop for cars, but they must have been there at least
when our fathers came home from work.  We sledded until it was
so dark that the