OUT HERE: The Whip
Here’s an old photograph that will call out — like the sound of echoing ice, crack! — to those who spent the winter afternoons of their adolescence cruising Town Pond on skates as the sun went down. It’s a Saturday or Sunday, we’d wager, and — judging by the Fair Isle sweaters, the fuzzy earmuffs, the cut of the jeans — probably around 1980.