It's not only the who, what and where memories I savor from my childhood. Our small village of Bellmore, N.Y., had its own unique sounds and smells. At night when the train whistle blew at each crossing (Bellmore Avenue, Bedford Avenue, Centre Avenue and Newbridge Road), I dreamed of faraway places that perhaps I might someday visit. The whistle stirred something inside me, a yearning that I did not understand.
When I walked down the street toward the
