My childhood home in Philadelphia shared the property line with one of the city’s trolley and bus terminuses. The old mustard yellow and green iron wheeled Route 23 trolley’s last stop was a child’s skip and a jump to our first step. Our miniscule side yard was a few feet from the trolley tracks separated by a sturdy black wrought iron fence. The protective iron vertical bars were less than six inches apart. A tangle of lilac and forsythia bushes completed this urban oasis. I learned that a quick escape from this dead end peninsula could be accomplished by squeezing through the iron bars. The key to this feat was to put my head through first. If my head could go through sideways the rest of my body would follow. First time pursuers were baffled. They thought they had trapped me in the side yard only to find out I had mysteriously escaped. As I ruminated on this long ago pleasant childhood memory I thought isn’t this like life. If I can get my head through a problem or a challenge