Every few seconds the wind settles down and distant sounds from this city emerge like a recollection of something buried deep in my past. Two children are playing in the park next to my apartment building. The broad, flat dirt clearing and jungle-gym remind me of the playground in which I spent most of the days of my childhood. Well, there is absolutely nothing extraordinary about that place, other than the fact that it was the setting for my first significant acts of joining matter and mind, my first clear--perhaps clearest--memories. At recess, lunchtime, and after school, I joined in various games, sometimes winning and sometimes not caring if I won. It might have been my "place of first permission," and if you will permit me this indulgence of my need to reminisce, I would like you to pay attention to what may seem on the outside a mere token, a charm, some personally auspicious vehicle through which I picture my life participating in the life of God.