The park on 38th Street is completely different from the old days. They actually have patches of grass, and playground equipment. But none of the character we once had with the broken-down pool, burnt-out grounds-keeping building, and glass-strewn basketbal court. What I really miss is the group of old Italian men playing bocce under the abandoned Culver El. It wasn't summer without seeing those guys (and their sandals and black dress socks).

One way summers have improved since then: no more outlaw electricians tapping into lamp-post power supplies to plug in overly-loud stereo systems to blare throughout the night. And no bongo sonatas. That was wacky.