These were the times that raked leaves collected in the street gutters where they burned and smoldered through lazy October days. Everybody loved the smell and everybody liked Ike. . . . The times of Pall Malls and Luckys, when guys fought with their fists and handshakes were sacred. Families had two goals: add to savings accounts every month and pay off the home mortgage. There were lots of Savings and Loans and corner grocery stores where kids bought Push-Ups and Dreamsicles. . . . A time of innocence, rides, and family breakfasts after Mass on Quinquegesima Sunday, while the haunting refrains of Gregorian chants echoed in the heads of well-dressed and well-mannered children. . . . It was a time like all times that inexorably trudges through the shine, to the dull, and to the rust, until it is filed into the pages of history and the temporary alcoves of memory.