#45 and #46, Jacob and Clare.

They were a young brother-and-sister team who lived across the street from our apartment building, next door to Maudelle. I can't remember their parents for the life of me, but the children were hardly ever let outside to play. They were both fair-haired, i think, and Jacob's was supremely curly and fluffy. He never smiled, and neither did Clare (Clara?). I felt bad for them. Their house had a little tiny white picket fence in front of it. The whole family was something of an enigma to the rest of us chickens. The little girl had a huge puffy birthmark on her upper arm that we were never to look at or talk about or point at or ask about. All of this hush-hushing only made the "problem" worse, in my opinion. If i ever run into either of these two again, i am going to make it a point to bring it up. I honestly think we could have all been friends, if not for all of the walking on eggshells.

#43 and #44, Phyllis and Ed.

They lived around the corner from us during the '80s. An older couple, friends of my dad's. I'm not sure how he ever met them, but they were such interesting folks. Ed had a cool replica of the Maltese Falcon. He was soft-spoken and always smelled so sweetly of the cigars he incessantly smoked. Phyllis was a brassy, cackling woman with short silvery-blonde hair and a cigarette always burning away in the ashtray (and sometimes even in her hand!). She made the most killer lentil soup, that to this day i struggle to re-create. They always drank martinis, and i have no idea what happened to them.

#42, Maudelle.

Maudelle was a sweet old lady with an afro that had gone white who lived across the street from us and who was always running for city council (and winning!). The bench in front of her house is one of the most magical places in the world. It sits under a birch tree with its white bark and powerful catkins. Maudelle's house sat in the background of this tableau, and my memory has her on the peeling front porch, holding on to the railing and waving and smiling into the sun. She was like a benevolent presence, always radiating.

#41, Uncle Danny.

Not really an "uncle", but an honorary family member nonetheless. Danny had a walrus mustache, drank beer all day long and farted up a storm. He also snored so loudly that the windowpanes would shake, rattle and roll. He was ever so friendly, though, and always in T-shirt and jeans. He helped my dad build the house up in Montana, and lived with someone named Troy and a cat named Budweiser who earned his name by lapping at the tops of leftover cans on the coffeetable.

#40, Petra.

Petra! You were our babysitter when i was 7 or so. A beautiful young college (UC Berkeley) student who ate baby food straight from the jar; bizarre. Pretty, brown hair and flowy white blouses. You taught us how to make "Hot Buttered Cheerios", which is still one of the most delicious snacks i have ever had. We would all pick blackberries from the wild brambles beyond our back deck, and you would help us bake them into tiny, bursting tartlets. You were summer, and bright happy sun, and trips to the park with freshly cut green grass, snacks and bicycle rides and lots of smiles. Thank you.

#39, Peter A.

You were my best friend's music teacher. You wore baggy pants with tribal prints on them. Often we would arrive at your house and there would be people in your backyard, playing bongo drums and smoking weed, always courteous. i think you were teaching her to play the flute. I had a tentative crush on you, mostly because your world was so different from mine. Later you were heading a fairly famous jazz ensemble in the Bay Area, and i was so impressed. Are you still the same? Sometimes i think i am.

#38, Angela Solarz

Angela, you were my troubled friend when i was ten or so... we both had a hard time, it seemed. You had a clear, open face, glasses, and a long, straight, light-brown ponytail. You lived with your mom in a tiny dark house next to the grocery store in our neighborhood. I was always scared in there. What did we do together? I can hardly remember. You moved away, and there was a sleep-over party for your birthday there, at the new place. My mom drove me, and it was like night and day. Big, bright windows, white paint on the walls, brand-new apartment fixtures, new and shiny friends. I didn't see you after that. Where are you now?