LifewiththeDayfamilyacquiredareassuringpattern.Myfatherwouldleaveforworkbeforeanyofusstirredfromoursleep,andthatgoldenwakinghourbetweenhisdepartureandmymarchtoschoolwasa-fort.Mymotheratthestove,stirringoatmealbreakfastinapawinsexplthekitonunsteadyfeet.Thepicturewindowsframedaawaytheoutsideworld.TheDayshomehadlongagobeenawork-ingfarm,andthoughagriculturehadbeenabandoned,vestigesremained.Anoldbarn,redpaintstoadarkmauve,nowservedasagarage.Thesplit-railfefrohepropertywasfallingapartstickbystick.Thefield,anacreorsothathadflushedgreenwith,layfallow,atangleofbramblesthatDadonlybotheredtomowonceeachOctober.TheDayswerethefirsttoabandinthearea,andtheirdistantneighborsjoihemovertheyears,sellingoffhomesteadsandacreagetodevelopers.ButwhenIwasachild,itwasstillaquiet,lonesomeplace.

    Thetrickofgrowingupistoremembertogrow.ThementalpartofbeingHenryDaydemandedfullattentiontoeverydetailofhislife,butnoamountofpreparationforthegingatfortheswathofthesubjectsfamilyhistory—memoriesofbygohdaypartiesandotherintimacies—thatopretendtoremember.Historyiseasyenoughtofake;stickaroundanyonelongenoughandonecatchuptoanyplot.Butotheractsandflawsexposetherisksofassuminganothersidentity.For-tunatelyweseldomhadpany,fortheoldhousewasisolatedonasmallbitoffarmlandoutinthetry.

    NearmyfirstChristmas,whilemymotherattehegtwinsupstairsandIidledbythefireplace,aknockcameatthefrontdoor.Ontheporanwithhisfedorainhand,thesmellofaretcigarmixingwiththefaintlymedialaromaofhairoil.HegrinnedasifhereizedmeatohoughIhadn