Our big summer block party always takes place on the first Saturday of August.

It’s an enjoyable gathering of 40 or 50 neighbors, with lots to eat and drink. But last year I got the shock of my life.

On a gorgeous day I headed out for the party about noon. Grace, my wife, said she would follow in an hour. I wound up playing cards, and while sitting at the card table sipping a beer was approached by Carl, Artie and Rico, the sons of different neighbors, all about 21. Carl spoke up first: “Hey, Burt, my boys and me were wondering if we could ask a little favor. We’d like to borrow Grace this afternoon.”

Seeing me puzzled, Artie said, “She didn’t tell you what happened two weeks ago while you went fishing?” When I said no, he said that that weekend — when I... Read More