I don't remember kindergarten at Radnor with Tom, but we must have crossed paths in the neighborhood (I was schooling at St. Batholomew's thru first-grade).  Anyway, Tom had me to sleep over one night.  He lived in the big house, big old house, where, what is it, Selkirk comes in off of Wilson, passes Blacklock which shortcuts in to St. Bart's, and then drops down to Nevis where we were at the very bottom of that dangerous fast car dip.  Dad used to get out there and yell to the young bucks driving way too fast for children-at-play, "Slow Down!"  

So, sleeping over at Tom's, I got a real good homey feeling from his family, something we Tovars did not have.  It wasn't merely hearing a new way of saying what we called 'boo-boo', a bowel movement--the Bagwell's called it a 'bm'; that's technical Tom for 'ya--as he carefully delineated the fact for me in his quiet and keen way.  I fairly froze up in homes that were normal, as nice and loving families, not having any idea how to relax and enjoy such.  'How many hundreds of times I have thought, fondly and appreciatively, of that sleepover at Tom's house.  We really don't know what effect we have on other people.  Let it be good and nice; therein is power.