Somehow I had twenty dollars. At that time, a large sum, enough for a pile of albums, or a couple of red wagons, or even a bicycle. I spent it on wood: pine two-by-twos and redwood slats, to build a clubhouse which everyone could share. I was good at sharing.
Our daykeepers were generous as well, to allow the project in the first place, and to provide most of the labor.
We built it beneath a tree, at the far corner of the yard, next to a high wall belonging to neighbors who had a steep, winding driveway I often dreamt about.