My father married my mother on January 1, 1963, and moved into the house that my grandfather, Nick Borys, had built in Lodi, New Jersey. By 1969 my grandfather had died, and I don't remember much about the Lodi house except for manufactured memories I've built around photographs. I know my dad didn't particularly like being there, and complained regularly of my grandfather's junk. Especially in the garage, which was so congested with old stuff that you couldn't pull a car into it. When my grandfather died, I remember him joyfully cleaning out that garage, and me (less joyfully) helping.

I know that my dad wrote stories in Lodi because quite a bit of his output is labeled with the address 26 Leo Place. Did he write in the basement? Didn't we live on the top floor, and have people underneath us renting? I don't know because a lot of that stuff happened before my true memory kicked in; most of what I recall from Lodi comes to me from stories and pictures, and I hardly get any flashes of visceral memory. 

Regardless of the circumstances, I'm sure that he wrote dreaming of a better place. Lodi was a way station, a place he had to endure. What better place to learn how to become a writer? Since there aren't dates on these stories, I've arranged them in rough chronological order of character age––from a teenage boy on a cliff to a worn-out man watching sex through a peephole. 

1. THE CLIFF STORY
2. HUNGER STRIKE
3. A NIGHT OUT
4. THE PEEPHOLE