SWINGING If there is one thing I remember above everything else, including all the beatings and abuse that we orphan kids suffered, it was the swings. There was not one waking moment in almost 15 years, (if we were not working, in school or asleep) that there was not one, two, three or four children sitting on the large iron swing set located near the back fence of the Children's Home Society Orphanage in Jacksonville, Florida. Hour after hour, day after day, week after week, month after month and year after year, we children would just sit there - never swinging, never talking and never moving a muscle - just sit there and let our little legs dangle downward as we would sometimes silently and slowly swing them back and forth, back and forth, and back and forth. Just sitting there hour after hour, day after day, week after week, month after month and year after year, in a starry-eyed, semi-state of sub-consciousness. Mmmmmmmm...Mmm...Mmm...Mm...Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.............