This picture I came upon by accident. I can thank my brother, the mastermind behind the stacks of slides painstakingly scanned into digital form, for the time capsule of memories. My father took this picture. I remember him hanging out of the second-floor hallway window of our white bungalow-style home in the city of Quincy. I must have been seven or almost eight. It was the summer before our big move to the “country.” At least that was how my Nana described it. We lived two

When my dad came home from work during the summer evenings, he would take me into the garden. With a colander and a basket, we gathered...