Nineteen-forty-four was a year of war. On battlegrounds around the world our armed forces fought our nation's enemies; on the playground of Camphor Elementary School, my brother and I fought the Porter brothers.
The Porters, Stinky and Lard-O, were a year older than us. They were also bigger and faster and better at all the stuff that counted most in fights, in particular their awesome ability to fling a rotten orange laced with gravel farther and with greater accuracy than we could.
