Saturday mornings were movie time in our little town. There was only one theater, perched in the middle of a block on First Street. That was our sole source of entertainment, other than Harper’s Five & Dime and the drive-thru window at Bantam Chef, which had ushered us into the amazing era of fast-food hamburgers and fries.
This particular Saturday, Mommy pulled up to the curb in front of the movie theater in our Oldsmobile station wagon. As I climbed out, she handed me two quarters, which would buy my ticket, plus a dime for a bag of Sugar Babies. Most every kid from my third-grade class was there, all of us dropped off by our moms. It wouldn’t occur to anyone that this wasn’t safe. We knew everybody working at the theater, including the woman at the ticket window and the teenager selling concessions in the lobby.