ll of us went to a wonderful school called Orchard. We sometimes rode Muley, and tied him up at the bike rack. In those days Orchard was as wild and noisy as we were and so we loved it there. We got to wear whatever we wanted, and instead of a playground the school had a large woods with a log cabin and a rope swing. We used to put on lots of shows. My favorite was the “Showboat” in the spring. If you came up with an act, you were in. Once I convinced all my brothers and sisters to do a sailor dance onstage wearing donkey paper bag masks. I loved, loved Orchard School. y mother, who was glamorous, difficult, and adventurous, grew up in Savannah, Georgia, so every summer we traipsed back to her family beach cottage on Tybee Island. The cottage was built on stilts and had a large wraparound porch where we slept on creaky old cots and fought over the fans. Days were spent playing at the beach or water skiing at my Aunt Peggy’s house on the marsh. We stayed all summer long until my face became one giant freckle and my hair turned the color of straw.