“Why don’t you go outside and play?” In my generation, this was the stereotypical rant of the parent who wanted some peace and quiet. So, my neighborhood tribe played in the woods. Just across Merriam Street, past the abandoned car graveyard, were mysterious paths through white pine groves, streams and ponds with frogs and pickerel, and the lore we invented for our redoubts and rambles. But it wasn’t play: it was serious exploration, time for ingenuity with sticks and stones, time and space, quiet.