' It was a late summer morning, a pleasant bite in the September air aided by a southerly breeze. He lived in a two family house on the edge of Hicks Woods’ small public park and saw with satisfaction as he walked that the stars and stripes were already flying from the flagpole. Most mornings he drove to work, but he had put his SUV in the shop for its six month service the night before, and today he ambled across the park toward the train station, remembering as he did the countless carnivals, Christmas carolings
and Little League games he had played here as a boy. He was thirty-five now. His own son, Conor, now seven, would start playing here come spring, he mused, and that was something to look forward to. Dennis Harrity’s parents were Irish immigrants who had built a good life on Long Island’s South Shore...'
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