It was a hot, humid, and overcast summer day in the suburbs of Minnesota. I was four.
The heat pressed against my tiny frame as I stood staring, neck craned upwards at a giant twelve-foot slide. The slide itself sat on a sandy beach near our house.
I should note that it was one of those old school, metal things, with rusty protruding screws.
This is not the kind of slide you’ll find in a park these days with all it’s plastic and foam, and…