Paul David's Place Wasn't All That Bad After All!

I know how Chicago feels. Me and Leon and David Mark would lobby like the dickens to get the Olympics held in the field behind our house. We had plenty of room. And the big tree in Aunt Jessie’s back yard offered tons of shade if someone wanted to come watch. Miss Boaz had a long hedge that was just right for hurdling. There was a stand of bamboos in the woods behind the swimming pool so we had a steady supply of javelins. Mother would keep the Kool Aid coming. I couldn’t see no reason in the world not to have that torch run down Stonewall Street and turn in behind our house.

’Course, the problem was that Paul David Campbell already had a basketball goal set up in his back yard. We included round ball in our Olympiad years before the rest of the world caught on. And Paul David lived closer to town. There was a strong contingent that wanted to use the field between Jimmy Mabry and Ricky Hale’s house. The Gwaltney side yard had more shade but it was smaller. The hill over on Forrest Avenue had the best set up for go-kart racing and cardboard sledding. If baseball had been the only sport, the large grounds across from the pajama factory would have won hands down!

You can see we had stiff competition from all over town. And everyone could muster an understandable argument for their place. I was way too young to understand the politics of the situation. The older guys voted on the bigger fields. Some, selfishly, wanted to play in their neighborhood every day. There was a lot of “block” voting going on. Leon “allowed” some of the uptown guys called each other the night before and secretly pooled their votes. Shoot, we often times settled our location dilemma with our fists. We didn’t have to bother with all those ballots! Ricky Gene would wipe the blood off his face and declare the games to be fairly located and officially started! Maybe today’s International Committee ought to take note.

I don’t mind telling you it hurt when “our place” didn’t get chosen. I felt rejected and publicly humiliated. We’d mumble and grumble all the way over to the vacant lot beside Barbara Scates house. Then, to add insult to injury, I’d have to race against Emily Scarborough in the first heat. She and Vicki Fields were the only two girls in town who could out run me. Em would send me to the Kool Aid line early. But, at least, that gave me ample time to prepare for the tree swinging events.

I was probably best in the barrel rolling games. We’d “borrow” an empty drum from the trash bin behind Bailey Moore Wrinkle’s Hardware and haul it over to Forrest Avenue. You’d crawl inside and ball up with your back against the curve and your feet braced on the opposite side. Buddy and one of the Cunningham boys would roll you over the edge and off you’d go! You’d pray no one would be turning off Main Street onto Forrest and that you didn’t swerve toward Ruth Ann Wiley’s house and crash into the cavernous ditch that caught the storm water. The rules were simple. The winner was the guy who ended up the furtherest from the top of the hill. I have seen speeds up to forty miles an hour! You were automatically disqualified if you fell out of the barrel, crashed into the ditch or ran into a car.

Mr. Tommie Hill sponsored the discus throw. He ran the Texaco Station at the corner of Main and Walnut. He always had an old hub cap we could borrow. We liked the ’54 or ’55 Fords best. They were flat and big. You could really sail those things! It didn’t matter which country you were in for this one.  We’d just swing ourselves around in a circle and let it go! I saw John Ingram toss one from the old log cabin at Bethel College to the middle of East Cherry Street. The wind was at his back but we “let it count” because we’d never seen one thrown that far. Often times we were fairer in judging than we were in selecting the venue.

But eventually, putting all bickering and politics aside, our site would be chosen to host the games. You can’t imagine the euphoric feeling as I raced home to prepare the field. I’d mow the whole thing! And haul off the bigger rocks. I’d fill some tow sacks with dirt for fresh bases. David would run down to the woods and cut a dozen of the straightest bamboos. We would mark off where to start the races. And pick the best crabapples for the war games. We’d shoo the cows out of Archie Moore’s pond for the water events. We’d haul those heavy drums all the way from the hardware store. Whew, this was a lot more work than I thought it would be!

But it was pretty neat when everyone started marching by the house. We gathered in the big field and started going over the rules. Nicky Joe pointed out that we didn’t have any rules and we got on with the games. Lance Winchester stuck one of Daddy’s prize hogs with the second javelin thrown. Alice Reynolds fell out of the big oak and knocked herself unconscious during the limb jumping challenge.  Pam Collins and Bob Edwards got in a fight over who threw first in mumbly peg. Rick bounced a long drive off of Mrs. Boaz kitchen window, shattering it all to pieces. Marlin Hicks wouldn’t speak to Terry Harrison and they were on the same team! Graylene Lemonds didn’t like Strawberry Kool Aid……

You know, maybe me and Leon and David Mark would have been much better off if Paul David Campbell had out bid us!

Respectfully,

Kes