Evansville, Indiana is no longer the city that I describe in this story. That Evansville was the city of my boyhood that I remember with increasing fondness. It was a blue collar, multi-ethnic, industrial city surrounded by miles of corn, wheat, and soybean fields. It was populated by hard working, hard drinking people who were sitting astride a cultural dividing line between the industrial northern part of the country, ( represented by a blue collar labor force, factories, and organized labor), and the agrarian southern part of the country, (represented by agriculture, a conservative religiosity, and segregation). Evansville was the chrysalis that protected me and nurtured me while I struggled toward an identity. It was a wonderful city in which to be a boy. It was a wonderful time in which to grow up.