One spring weekend in 1967, I managed to convince several of my friends to accompany me to the family’s property in the country. The weather forecast promised to be sunny and warm. My mom promised some of her renowned Greek cuisine. My dad said he’d allow us a few beers at the end of the work day.
“Work day?” one of my friends, Michael Clancy, wondered.
“Yeah, just a bit of planting,” I said, “about two thousand evergreen trees.”