We moved to Clay Street in 1953 when I was two years old. Clay Street was an unpaved dead-end street， ending to the west. It was also a small 1）county island.

At the end of the street， blocked off by a 2）cyclone fence and wide gate， was the property of Mr. Kaiser and family. They had a large house and a two-car garage. Mr. Kaiser was an important man with lots of money and his own business and wanted nothing to do with us or any working man on the block.

On the south side of the street next to the Kaisers lived Elmer and Margie Gates from Mississippi and their two daughters. He was a security guard for 3）Gallo Winery and they raised Rhode Island Red chickens.

Next to them was our small two-bedroom house. My dad Tom Reese was from Texas and drove a truck. My mom Viola was from Wisconsin，and cooked and worked at Kline’s 4）Truck Stop and the Eagle Café. My brother Dallas was three， and I was eight. We were the same ages as the Gates girls， Dorothy and Shirley， our best friends. We raised ducks and Mom sold the eggs to local restaurants.

On the street behind us lived Mr. Green， who had a field with two brown horses， Rosie and her family the Manzettis from New York， the O’Reillys from Chicago， the Johnsons from Louisiana， the Hernandez family， A Japanese family whose names I couldn’t pronounce， and Mr. and Mrs. Wong （they owned a restaurant）. It was a diverse and wonderful group of people. And though we kids sometimes quarreled and 5）tussled with each other， I never knew on any occasion the adults quarrelling， other than spats between husbands and wives. In fact， the only violence that occurred was the night Mrs. Kaiser shot Mr. Kaiser. He lived through the incident， but we were never told why she had done it.

The summers on Clay Street were a paradise for us kids. It was continually hot， and the houses were equipped with swamp coolers， so we kids spent the entire season running like naked savages clad in swim suits or our underwear.

We tore through the neighborhood playing pirates and cowboys， tag， and hide and seek， through the alley and in every yard. We drank from garden hoses， we foraged from the fruit and nut trees and knocked at each door， where the moms of the houses would stuff us with sandwiches of boloney or peanut butter or toasted cheese. They gave us plastic glasses of milk， 6）Kool Aid， Nestle’s Quick chocolate milk. What a life！

When trouble hit the neighborhood everyone pitched in， no one went hungry or unclothed. Whether it was sickness， being out of work， or death， we took care of each other. The men worked on each other’s cars， they mended things. My dad and some of the other fathers would sand， 7）whittle， and make wagons， little trucks， wooden animals so that no child would go without toys for Christmas. We all raised ducks， chickens， rabbits， and such. So there was always meat and eggs. Everyone had vegetable gardens and fruit and nut trees， and the women baked and canned.

Our mothers and grandmothers prepared all kinds of treats， and when the cooking was done they also knitted and 8）crocheted and sewed. They’d pack blankets and clothes that were made or mended and donated them to the church. This wasn’t just for our neighborhood and church， but for anyone they could find that needed a little help. There was never any pity， only compassion. The adults never used the words“poor” or “broke.” They would just explain that this person or that one was having some “hard luck.”

But for us kids it was a worry-free summer of food， games， baby kittens and pups. We even pushed the new born chickens and ducks in our baby carriages until we were told to put them back. But the finest part of summer were the special weekends， when the moms would make goodies.

Mom made homemade spiced doughnuts， Margie Gates made lemon 9）meringue pies， and our Japanese neighbors brought festive sweet honey rice balls.

Mr. Johnson would put his huge BBQ wagon in the empty field and crank it up. Tables would be set up， and dishes， napkins， and silverware made ready along with the mustard， ketchup， pickles， 10）relish， and of course salt and pepper. Then when the coals were ready， Mr. Johnson， who was a big happy man， would get down to work. Thick sauce coated ribs 11）sizzled on the grill， filling the air with spicy scented white smoke， as fat and juicy hamburgers， and plump hot dogs squealed out to be bitten into.

Margie Gates fried up a mess of catfish that her husband Elmer had caught and stuffed in the freezer a couple of days before. She also accompanied the crisp golden fish with sweet 12）coleslaw， hot buttered corn on the cob， and mountainous mashed potatoes.

Mom piled up fried chicken， green salad with buttermilk dressing and mile-high biscuits so light we almost had to nail them down. She also made honey butter to coat them with （such a good mother）.

There were also 13）root beer floats， fruit juice， milk， sweet iced tea and Coca Cola. And for dessert there was fudge and homemade banana ice cream. Wow！ What a feast！

Everyone had a good time， and as we lay on our pillows along the dead-end street we stared at the stars， pulsing like white drips of fire. We sipped root beer floats and shivered as the cold beverages slid down our throats.

It was cooler to sleep outside， for occasionally a breeze would 14）slither through the cottonwood trees and offer some relief.

Such were the summers on Clay Street in Fresno， California. And such were the good neighbors and close friends whose faces still linger in my memory.

In 1991 there were only three original neighbors left…my dad and the Japanese neighbors we had known and loved for forty years. My father died in April of that year， and while I was at the house clearing it out I looked up and was surprised to see my dad’s friend， our Japanese neighbor， the last one left. He was sad to hear of Dad’s passing and hugged me with tears in his eyes. He told me in that gentle voice I had always liked， “I lost my best friend and my wife on the same day.”

We hugged again and sat talking of old times. He quietly returned to his home， but a short time later he moved away to live with his children.

Dad’s house was sold， there were difficulties with the estate， and for a very long time I didn’t want anything to do with Clay Street.

But lately memories of the sounds of children laughing， echoes of friendly familiar voices and root beer floats on velvet nights， have restored to me the innocent times， dispelling thoughts of darker events.

I guess there will always be a part of me running barefoot and half-naked through the summer nights on Clay Street.

1953年，我們住進(jìn)了克雷街，那時(shí)我兩歲。克雷街是一條還未鋪上柏油的死胡同，路的盡頭在西邊。這里也是一個(gè)未被納入任何轄區(qū)的小地方。

在街道的末端，被一片防風(fēng)柵欄和一扇大鐵門攔著的，是凱撒先生及其家族的房產(chǎn)。他們有一所很大的房子和能容下兩臺(tái)轎車的車庫(kù)。凱撒先生是一位重要人物，很富裕，經(jīng)營(yíng)著自己的生意，他不希望與我們或者街區(qū)內(nèi)的任何一個(gè)工薪階層有一絲關(guān)聯(lián)。

在街道的南端、凱撒一家的隔壁，住著來(lái)自密西西比州的埃爾默和瑪吉·蓋茨，以及他們的兩個(gè)女兒。埃爾默是嘉露酒莊的保安，他們還飼養(yǎng)羅德島紅雞。

他們家的隔壁，就是我們那所小小的雙臥室房子。我的父親湯姆·里茲來(lái)自德克薩斯州，是一名卡車司機(jī)。我的母親維奧拉來(lái)自威斯康辛州，在克萊恩司機(jī)餐館和獵鷹咖啡廳當(dāng)廚子和幫工。我的弟弟德拉斯三歲，我八歲。我們跟蓋茨家的女兒們——桃樂(lè)茜和雪莉一樣大，她們是我們最要好的朋友。我們飼養(yǎng)了鴨子，母親會(huì)把鴨蛋賣給當(dāng)?shù)夭宛^。

格林先生住在我們后面的那條街道，他擁有一片草地，養(yǎng)了兩匹棕色的馬；住在那兒的還有來(lái)自紐約的羅西·曼澤提斯和她的家人、來(lái)自芝加哥的歐萊利斯一家、來(lái)自路易斯安那州的約翰遜一家、赫爾南德茲一家、一戶名字我不懂如何發(fā)音的日本家庭，以及王先生和王太太（他們開(kāi)了一家餐館）。這是美妙而多元化的一眾人物。雖然我們這些孩子有時(shí)候會(huì)斗斗嘴、打打架，但是我從未聽(tīng)見(jiàn)大人們吵架，除了夫妻之間的小口角。實(shí)際上，這里發(fā)生的唯一一起暴力事件，就是那晚凱撒太太開(kāi)槍射傷了凱撒先生。凱撒先生逃過(guò)了這一劫，但是我們從未聽(tīng)說(shuō)她為什么要這么做。

克雷街的夏天對(duì)于我們這些孩子來(lái)說(shuō)簡(jiǎn)直是天堂。那時(shí)天氣持續(xù)炎熱，每家每戶屋里都會(huì)配備空調(diào)扇，我們小孩子們整個(gè)夏季都會(huì)像穿著泳衣或內(nèi)衣褲的赤裸小野人那樣跑來(lái)跑去。

我們?cè)卩徖镩g穿來(lái)穿去，扮演海盜和牛仔，玩捉人游戲，玩躲迷藏，穿梭于巷子和每一個(gè)后院。我們從花園的水管里喝水，我們從水果和堅(jiān)果樹(shù)上找吃的，我們敲每一扇門，門后那一家的媽媽們會(huì)塞給我們大紅腸、花生醬或者烤奶酪三明治。她們會(huì)給我們用塑料杯子裝的牛奶、“酷愛(ài)”飲料和雀巢速溶巧克力牛奶。多么愜意的生活啊！

當(dāng)麻煩找上鄰里時(shí)，大家都會(huì)伸出援手，不會(huì)有人餓肚子或缺衣少褲。無(wú)論是生病、失業(yè)甚至是死亡，我們都會(huì)互相照顧。男人們互相幫忙維修車輛，修理東西。我的父親和其他父親們會(huì)用砂紙磨光、削木頭，制作手推車、小卡車和木頭動(dòng)物，好讓所有孩子都能收到圣誕禮物。我們家里都養(yǎng)了雞、鴨、兔子之類的動(dòng)物。因此我們總能吃上肉和蛋。每家每戶都有菜地，種有水果樹(shù)和堅(jiān)果樹(shù)，女人們則會(huì)烘烤面包，腌制食物。

我們的母親和祖母?jìng)儠?huì)準(zhǔn)備各種各樣的美食，做完飯后，她們會(huì)編織、鉤織、縫紉一番。她們會(huì)把縫制或者修補(bǔ)好的毛毯、衣服打包，捐贈(zèng)給教會(huì)。這不僅僅會(huì)送給我們的鄰里和教會(huì)，還會(huì)送給每一位他們能找到的、需要一點(diǎn)幫助的人。這里沒(méi)有任何的同情，只有慈悲。大人們從來(lái)都不會(huì)使用“貧窮”、“破產(chǎn)”等字眼，他們只會(huì)解釋說(shuō)這個(gè)人或那個(gè)他現(xiàn)在“不太走運(yùn)”。

但是，對(duì)于我們這些孩子來(lái)說(shuō)，那是個(gè)無(wú)憂無(wú)慮的夏季，我們有美食、游戲、小貓和小狗的陪伴。我們甚至把初生的小雞小鴨放到我們的嬰兒車?yán)锿疲钡酱笕私形覀儼阉鼈兎呕厝ゲ畔?。不過(guò)夏日里最美妙的部分是那些特別的周末，媽媽們會(huì)做一些好吃的食物。

媽媽會(huì)制作自制五香甜甜圈，瑪吉·蓋茨制作檸檬蛋白霜餡餅，而我們的日本鄰居則會(huì)帶來(lái)一些充滿節(jié)日氣氛的蜜糖湯圓。

約翰遜先生會(huì)把他那個(gè)巨大的燒烤推車推到空曠的草地上，把烤爐點(diǎn)著。桌子會(huì)被擺放好，碗碟、餐巾、銀制餐具準(zhǔn)備就緒，還有芥末、番茄醬、腌制品、調(diào)味品，當(dāng)然鹽和胡椒粉都會(huì)被擺放出來(lái)。當(dāng)煤炭燒好，約翰遜先生這位大塊頭樂(lè)天派就會(huì)開(kāi)始忙乎起來(lái)。裹著濃厚醬汁的排骨在烤架上嘶嘶作響，帶著香料香味的白煙盈滿了空氣，而豐厚多汁的漢堡包和圓鼓鼓的熱狗仿佛尖聲呼喚著你以齒頰相擁。

瑪吉·蓋茨煎了好多鯰魚。這些鯰魚是前幾天她的丈夫埃爾默抓回來(lái)后塞到冰箱里保存起來(lái)的。她還給香脆的黃金魚伴上香甜的卷心菜沙拉、熱氣騰騰的黃油玉米棒和堆成小山的土豆泥。

母親準(zhǔn)備了一大碟的炸雞塊、奶油蔬菜沙拉和千層松餅，那些蓬松輕盈的松餅仿佛得使勁壓扁才能放入口中。她還會(huì)做蜜糖黃油給我們蘸著吃（真是一個(gè)好媽媽）。

飲料會(huì)有冰激凌沙士、果汁、牛奶、甜冰茶和可口可樂(lè)。甜品則有軟糖和自制香蕉冰激凌。哇！多么豐盛的大餐！

每一個(gè)人都樂(lè)在其中，當(dāng)我們沿著這條死胡同鋪上枕頭躺下時(shí)，我們凝望著星星，它們就像白色的火滴一般閃閃跳動(dòng)。我們小口啜飲著冰激凌沙士，冰涼的飲料沿著我們的喉嚨流入身體，我們的身體也隨之一震。

在外面睡覺(jué)要涼快些，因?yàn)椴粫r(shí)會(huì)有一陣微風(fēng)吹來(lái)，滑過(guò)楊木樹(shù)林，帶來(lái)一些撫慰。

這就是加州夫勒斯諾市克雷街的夏日時(shí)光。而這些友好鄰居和親密朋友的面孔，至今依然縈繞在我的記憶中。

1991年，我們?cè)瓉?lái)的鄰居只剩下三人了……父親和那對(duì)我們認(rèn)識(shí)的并且相親相愛(ài)了四十年的日本鄰居。那年四月，我父親去世了，我在家里整理物件時(shí)，一抬頭，驚訝地看到了父親的朋友，我們的日本鄰居——最后一位住在這里的鄰居。聽(tīng)說(shuō)了父親的離世，他深感悲傷，兩眼含淚地?fù)肀Я宋?。他用那個(gè)我一直都很喜歡的溫柔聲音說(shuō)道：“我在同一天失去了妻子和最好的朋友?！?/p>

我們?cè)俅螕肀?，并坐下?lái)暢談舊時(shí)光。他靜靜地走回他的家，但是不久之后，他就搬去和他的兒女們一起住了。

父親的房子被賣掉了，房產(chǎn)的處理上出了些狀況，有很長(zhǎng)的一段時(shí)間，我不想和克雷街再有任何瓜葛。

然而最近，孩提時(shí)代的笑聲、熟悉親切的聲線的回響以及絲絨般午夜里的冰激凌沙士，有關(guān)這一切的回憶，再次讓我憶起那些純真的歲月，驅(qū)散掉關(guān)于陰暗事件的思緒。

我想，永遠(yuǎn)都會(huì)有一部分的我依舊光著腳丫、半裸著身子，在克雷街的夏夜里盡情奔跑。