Like many early boomers, I grew up in a house like this and was eight years old when this cover appeared. I distinctly remember my father striking a similar pose each spring as the window screens went in and the storm windows came out. Repeated in reverse in the fall, Dad soon came to believe that I was old enough to help with the process. That chore, lasting until I left home after high school, guided my decision in married life to have a house with fewer windows. I still made the twice-yearly switch for decades, but now a condo in retirement looks ever so nice. It’s time to pass the torch!