School was out. I had turned twelve and my elementary school education had ended. Not being much of a student, I was extremely grateful to have graduated sixth grade. Entering the seventh grade was a challenge I wasn't sure I was ready for, but it was summertime and I didn't need to worry about school for two months. That made it all the more baffling, when I found myself drawn back into the elementary school.

I'd never would have gone to school if it wasn't required. In some ways I was starting my junior high school experience early. The fortuitous return would start me down the road on the most important journeys of my life, not to mention one of my greatest adventures, but I knew none of that then, when I went back to school, after school was out.

While wandering, which was my favorite summertime activity, I came face to face with a sign.

"Open House"

What is an open house, I wondered? The sign intrigued me but the location did not. It was across the front doors of the elementary school where I had just graduated. It was very much in my nature to avoid school whenever possible but curiosity made than impossible.

I went in the door, moving in the direction the signs indicated until I reached the auditorium. I opened the door to find that the shiny wood floors had been invaded by a small army of people engaged in a frenzied construction of what I would call booths.

Each booth offered a suggestion for how you should spend your summer. There was Vacation Bible School, Boy Scouts, and Camp Fire Girls. Mostly they were on their sides in various stages of construction. Being cautious, I only stepped a few feet into the auditorium before already planning a strategic withdrawal. These structured activities would take the natural flow out of the freedom I looked forward to every summer.

I turned for the door and came face to face with a small man in a gray suit and a wide smile.

"Sink the ball and win a prize," he suggested, thrusting out a putter toward me. "Sink the ball and win a prize."

His words caused me to hesitate for only a second but it was long enough. When I didn't take the club from him, he decided I wasn't sure what it was for.

"Here, let me show you," the little man said, placing the ball down on the coarse green grass his feet were planted upon.

There was a ten-foot strip of phony grass that was three feet wide. Then it reached the elevated green, spreading out to six feet wide after it went back another four feet, with all that plastic grass being surrounded by green boards that marked the boundaries of the hole. In the middle of that elevated section of coarse green grass was the cup.

He looked down to where he had placed the ball, out at the hole, down at the ball, out at the hole, and then he tapped the ball, and it ran up, up, up, and stopped two inches from the target. He then turned to extend the club for me to take.

The guy seemed harmless enough and in my mind the fastest way out of there was to humor him. I took the club and watched as he placed the ball back on the grass.

Simulating what I'd seen him do, I checked the ball, the hole, the ball, the hole, and whack, I connected with it, getting a substantial piece of the ball. The little man was off like a shot as the ball accelerated up the ten-foot section, gaining altitude as it launched off the three inch elevation, clearing the back boundary of the golf hole without difficulty, heading for parts unknown with the little man in hot pursuit.

When the ball careened off the stone tile wall behind the golf course and sped off in another direction, the little man changed directions in mid-gallop, continuing the chase with little doubt the ball was the faster of the two. It would have been quite humorous if not for what he was going to say once he caught up with the ball and came back to tell me what he thought of my golf stroke. I knew the routine when dealing with adults.

This would be followed by insults just to make sure I understood how inept I was when it came to following instructions. I'd had my share of run-ins with adults and for the most part I found them to be unpredictable and ill-tempered.

Then would come my banishment, which I was ready to accept before he got back, but attempting to avoid punishment for your misdeeds was a sure way to incur even greater wrath from the big people, even small ones. I waited for his return.

He had caught up with the ball just as it was about to skitter underneath a half a dozen booths still under-construction. Actually it was quite a nifty move he made, putting on the brakes to interrupt the flight of the ball as he slid on one side and came to a halt as he, too, was about to disappear under the under-construction booths.

With two quick motions of his hand, he brushed off the side of his suit that had come into contact with the floor and he was on his way back ball in hand, to where I stood. I steadied myself for the onslaught, knowing that I'd beat a retreat once he was done yelling at me.

"Here," he said, leaning to place the ball back on the spot I'd just launched it from. "Watch me again," he said, removing the club from my hand.

I was still tensed and waiting for the fireworks. What was this about? I didn't understand what he was doing.

Why wasn't he angry? I'd just run him all over the auditorium and he wasn't the least bit put off by my poor performance. I was sure he wanted me to try again and for the life of me I didn't know why.

"Here, kid, pay attention this time," he said, as my mind wandered through the way I knew things were until this guy was blurring the lines.

Why wasn't he angry with me? That was confusing.

Once more he checked the ball, the hole, and back to the ball, checking the hole one more time before making contact with the ball.

"See, hit it easy," he advised, swinging the club at nothing but duplicating the same gentle swing. He even said the words easy. It did create a certain image.

I watched the ball rolling up and up, turning at the last instant to prevent it from dropping into the cup. He stepped back, offered me the club, and went to retrieve his only ball to set it down for me to strike again.

"Put it in the hole and win a prize," he said, pointing at the table that was covered with stuff.

Okay!

This time I was more careful. In my head I ran back the picture of him preparing to strike the ball. I duplicated as closely as I could exactly what he had done. I held each pose for the same length of time he had and on the last look at the hole I struck the ball exactly as he had done it.

It ran up and up and plop, right into the center of the cup.

"Way to go, sport. Great shot! That's how to do it. I knew you were a golfer. Anything on the table," he said to me, smiling broadly over my success.

I wasn't as interested in the prize as I was in the way he treated me. He actually said something nice to me. I liked it and no longer felt that I needed to escape.

I selected a prize from the table, thinking it would please my mother. I came back to where he waited for me, while still considering what was going on. I still thought there might be a catch. Nothing was this easy in my experience; especially, adults were never this nice, not to me anyway.

"Can I try again?" I asked, wanting another shot of praise and willing to take the risk.

"Sure, kid. Take as many shots as you like, but if someone else comes in, you've got to let them try," he said, making his first mistake.

Having little experience with success of any kind, I thought this was pretty neat. I took my position back over the ball and once more duplicated his instructions, replaying the picture of his demonstration.

Plop! Plop! Plop! Plop!

I couldn't miss.

I was on fire.

The ball had eyes.

I was in the zone.

And before the little man knew what hit him, he didn't have any more prizes. I had them all.

"That's it, kid. Game closed," and for the first time he displayed the angry attitude that I had been expecting earlier, only it was too late for him to make me feel bad. I felt great. I had won.

There had been too many compliments and too many "great" shots. Nothing he could say could make me feel bad after cleaning him out of prizes, and he wasn't so angry that he didn't go get me a box so I could carry off my loot. He even held the door open for me.

Maybe he had another box of stuff in his car, refugees from someone's yard sale somewhere, but that didn't matter, I'd won and I'd never been more proud of myself, even though most of the prizes were useless to me.

It was an interesting day. My parents were even impressed over the stuff I had placed on the dining room table for them to inspect. I mostly wanted to brag about my achievement and they did smile and that was about it. The thrill of it all waned and the memory of it became less clear as the summer went on and I continued to wander.

By the end of the summer I had forgotten about the golf game and the day I cleaned out the little man at my old school. It was one of those random events that happen once in a lifetime and slowly it slips out of mind until it's like it never happened at all, because it really didn't mean much after all.

Much too soon it was September and I was to catch the bus that would take me to my first day of junior high school. It was the first time I didn't walk to school. That made junior high school seem even further away and more mysterious. The unruly ride with screaming kids did nothing to improve my outlook.

Suitland Junior High School spread out in all directions but had only one floor. It seemed very big to me as I worked my way from one class to another, trying to keep up with my schedule. There was a different teacher for each course and there were several men, which was different to me. I was still trying to figure out how I would ever pass all those classes with a brain that couldn't think straight.

After each class the bell rang, and it was off again, down this hall and up this hall, and only five minutes to get there. I felt like I was running a race. After three classes, I realized there was one long wide hall all the way down the front of the school and then there were three more narrow halls running off the big hall, spaced evenly along the big hall. By lunch I had a map in my head that helped me find my way but it was all quite tiring.

By the time I got to gym, it was late in the day and I was glad for the break from school. If there was one place where I was sure I would excel, it was gym. Even I couldn't


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