This post is not currently part of the “I am Lucius van Dyke story,” but is being retained for archival purposes. If you are following the story through-line, you should jump forward to this link: Off to work


Mrs. Baker was a widow whose husband had died long enough ago that my brother and I firmly believed he was a figment of a fertile, if delusional imagination.

Her house, two doors up from ours, was a white Cape Cod with a finely manicured lawn, so perfect that children and dogs dare not to step foot upon its velvet grass.

“Come in boys,” said Mrs. Baker.
“Thank you Mrs. Baker,” said my mother. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.” Read the rest of this entry »