I often think of my hometown of Berkeley, California; living on Berkeley Way up the street from the Glass Lot Baseball Field. We called it the Glass Lot because it was, to the casual observer a vacant lot of cement, broken glass and occasionally a junked car where winos, addicts and the homeless disposed of their bottles and other trash on a nightly basis. It was also where we played Baseball in the spring, summer, and early fall despite the hazards of broken glass and leftover cement that were remnants of a multi-storied parking lot razed long before I was born.
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