A half-century ago, we were just a bunch of country kids on the outskirts of a little speck on the map known as Melrose, Florida. We were running wild among the scrub oaks and piney woods. We were the Lake Winnott boys, living just a skipped stone from that little lake where we’d spend our days swimming and fishing. Or maybe we’d go squirrel hunting or play tackle football without pads in the dirt road in front of Ricky, Robin and Craig’s house. Or maybe we’d go steal some oranges and persimmons from Old Man Priese’s fruit trees.

We didn’t have TikTok. We didn’t have PlayStations or iPhones. We had three television channels — if the antenna was pointed just right. We had bicycles and BB guns, dirt roads and two-lane blacktops, and — thank God — childhoods that forged friendships for lif

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