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We live in university housing near Madison. These temporary huts have quartered the troops as they trained before shipping out. Now they provide lodging for students and faculty until the school erects permanent structures. Of course, city planners have not had much to say about my fenceless backyard. It features a four-lane major arterial. I am three. I have a tricycle. Have trike will travel... Mom recognizes this propensity. Since my being cooped up inside all day with my year-old sister is not a pleasant experience for any of us, she fashions a harness and leash. I range out to the maximum of 20 feet and contemplate the ebb and flow of traffic just beyond my reach. Soon a big boy (he’s five) notices my predicament and saunters over. A conversation ensues. I sure wish I could get the perspective of the traffic flow from the other side, I tell him. Bummer, he says. We continue to inspect the throng. Damn, I exclaim, if only I weren’t tied up so. That’s the essence of it, anyway. Well, my new friend boasts, I could always get my mother’s scissors. Moments later, I bask in the aura of rush-hour traffic and gaze across the frenzied lanes at that other world, my backyard.