‘What is a Dead Man’s Clothes?’ you might ask. Well, I’ll answer that question the same way my grandfather would have… “I remember that day,” he would begin, before slipping into a crackly impression of what children sound like.

“Way to go! Not again!” Shrill voices rang out; dirty looks came from all sides. Don Dumont, who no one particularly liked because of his odd and gigantic mouth, had just smacked the kickball over the side fence for the third time this week. “Go get it!” someone shou...