Moving In....

   The news spread to our front porch, focal point for all the kids on our street and down the lane.  A new family was moving in, just a few houses down on River Road.  The previous family had moved out, (a young couple I suppose .)  All we knew then was that the woman, Helene C. was rather pretty and had a baby, which was of little  interest to us kids, and that she was terrified of cats and even kittens, which we found slightly more interesting.  Anyway, that family was gone.  The question now among us kids was did the new family have kids? 
    Various trips down the street to surveille the newcomers revealed the presence of a teenage girl, pretty but too old, and a boy about 12 years old, just past the veil of childhood, so we 10 and under's knew he wouldn't be part of our front porch assembly, counting cars and playing 20 Questions, et al. Another little boy, barely out of toddler-hood, way too young.   So our attention focused on 2 young boys who we later found out were twins, a few years younger than I was, but still within the bracket of childhood.  It's not possible at age 10 and 11 to know how fleeting that category is to be.  But at the time, that's all we cared about---more kids to join our games.
    Even more intriguing, one of the twins wore his arm in a sling, of the red bandana type, so he definitely was a contender.  He told us later that he'd fallen out of a tree and broken his arm.  At that time, the outdoors was the center of childhood play, and the games were primarily based on Cowboys and (yes) Indians or Cops and Robbers.  A bandana slung arm could have qualified on either count, so we had high hopes.  And we kids were not disappointed.  The twins were full of life and energy, and were always at the porch, either for the store or our house.  As was true of all the kids then, no invitations, no obligations, no expectations.  Just hang out, any time, any weather, and see what happens.