Cardboard boxes played a significant role in my childhood days. Don't get me wrong; toys were wonderful, too, but nothing could out-do a cardboard box and a few kids to go along with it-especially my two best neighborhood friends, Chris and Nick, brothers who lived three blocks away.
Summer was always the perfect time to have a cardboard box. The long, lazy days offered sufficient time to experience the true essence of a box and to truly bond with it. However, in order to bond with a box, we first had to find one. The three of us would pile into the back of my parents' truck, then sing the "Na Na Na" song (any song we only knew some of the words to but sang anyway) while we waited for my mom to find her keys. None of us dared to suggest that we ride in the front of the truck; that was for sissies.
Finally, after an infinite number of "Na Na Na" songs, Mom drove us to a box place, and there it was! The most beautiful box we had ever seen. It was a refrigerator box, most definitely the best kind to have. Refrigerator boxes could journey to far better places than any other box, and their ability to be anything was simply phenomenal. The furniture warehouse/showroom had thrown this glorious bounty out the back door like it was useless. We had arrived in time to rescue if form the nefarious jaws of a trash truck.
We watched with anticipation as Mom slid the box to the back of the truck. We crawled into the box for the ride home, sheltered from the wind and the bugs that seemed to aim right for the tonsils during mid-"Na."
Arriving back in the neighborhood was an experience that made our heads swell. Everyone who was outdoors could see us, and word would soon spread that nick, Chris, and Eva possessed a refrigerator box. You see, anyone who owned a refrigerator box held an esteemed position. We would be legends. We would take our box where no kids had ever gone before.
We unloaded our treasure and carried it with great care into the back yard. Chris said we should spend a few minutes of quiet time to gather our thoughts, and then we could discuss our ideas for this magnificent being. We did so for about five seconds. Then suddenly, as if an unknown force opened our voice boxes, we broke into song:

Na na na na
Our box is groovy
Na na na
And so are we!

Okay, it was a short song. But is was beautiful. And I'm sure it would have touched the hearts of those fortunate enough to hear it.
It was time to make our decision. "Let's go to Zo in our box," I said.
"Who?" Nick and Chris gave me one of their looks.
"Where to go or where not to go, that is the question," I retorted.
Nick told me I didn't make any sense, and I explained that it was all very simple, that he and Chris just needed to learn how to think backwards. Chris decided nick was right-I didn't make any sense.
"Zo is Oz backwards, you ignorant little twerps! We wanna go to Zo and do everything Dorothy does in Oz, but backwards." I was hollering at them because I knew they had better sense than they were using.
Chris looked first at me and then at the box as he contemplated my bright idea. I wondered if Chris and Nick were seriously ill because they should have known by then, form all our past experiences, that boxes (especially this one) could take us anywhere. We could be or do anything we wanted because of the power of the almighty refrigerator box. And we could be backwards about it too.
"You know, Eva is right," Chris said. "We have never done anything backwards before, so let's make this the first time. But we can go anywhere backwards, not just Zo."
At that moment in our young lives we understood clearly that we were going to go down in history. People al over the world would be talking about "The Three Backwards Box Kids." Other children would attempt to go where we had gone, but none of them