An old memory of Lexington that I’d forgotten — I was walking with my friend Mike through one of the town’s baseball fields well past 1 AM when we spotted a lone, parked car. I was seventeen.
“Well,” Mike said, loudly, “what do you think, Evan? Do we have a silver medal effort here? Or do you think they’re going to go for the gold?”
“I don’t know, Mike. The Russians have fared poorly in this category for years.”
A flashlight came up from inside the car and angled towards us.
“Look, Francois!” I shouted. “It’s beautiful!”
