In Pacifica, Calif., in 1955, my friend Will and I were mowing our front yards under the watchful eyes of our fathers. My dad and Will’s dad were both World War II Navy veterans. Dad had been on the battle-ship USS Pennsylvania during the first couple of years of the war, and Will’s dad had been in what they used to call the “Yardbird Navy” over in England.
Anyway, Will and I mowed away, turning our front yards into a golf course, or maybe just a putting green. After a while, when the