Excerpt from unnamed autobiography

...I do remember with fondness long summers in St. George (even though most summers were spent away while both mom and dad worked feverishly on advanced academic degrees). The Virgin River provided many hours of cool, fun, play even if it left our white underwear permanently stained the color of red sandstone. Just over the black ridge east of St. George was Russia. It took some time but we finally got there and had a good time doing it. The perfectly aligned East-West dirt roads (we lived on a corner) would turn to silt during the many months of drought and provided entertainment that left us coughing up mud balls. It was always peaceful along 600 South. Neighborhood wars developed in the heat of the summer. Along 600 South if you lived East of 500 East you were the good guys. If you lived West of 500 East you were the enemy. Doug and Dexter Hannig, twins from two houses up the block, led us. They were the strategists and tacticians with access to weapons. They even had a chemistry set at their disposal. During one skirmish I had just poked my head up from behind a dirt mound to see what the enemy was planning when, thud! My open left eye took a direct hit from a large clod! I ran home crying, but eventually I recovered. I was redeemed one day later when I carried a 2x4 into battle and chased a young man (5 years my senior) down dusty 500 East all the way to his home. I was a hero for the rest of that day...