The first year of middle school was almost over. It got easier with each passing week. I gained a few friends. I joined the school soccer team. Grandpa was impressed. I never told him that everyone who tried out made the team.
Gerald Ford convinced me to play soccer. He kept insisting it was important I learned about team sports. Gerald would show up and watch games with his blue and yellow sweatshirt with a big “M” on it. He told me he wore that shirt because our school colors were red and gray. He needed to balance things out. Gerald Ford disliked red and gray because they were the school colors of Ohio State. He told me that Michigan and Ohio State are rivals. That reminded me of my rivalry with Greg.
Posters littered the hallways about an upcoming school field day. It was open to all students. There would be a variety of events, like the hundred yard dash, tossing a football and several other events. Some events were for boys, some for girls. Also scheduled were team events with boy and girl partners. The teams would compete in egg tossing, sack races and a couple of other events. Field day was on the calendar for the last Saturday in April.
One night at dinner, Dad asked me if I had planned on participating.
“I dunno. Maybe. My soccer coach thinks I can win the hundred-yard dash. I promised Mrs. Macy I would help her in the garage again. It’s almost cleaned out.”
“Gimme a break, son. Her garage has overflowed with boxes since we moved to this neighborhood. I’m sure Mrs. Macy would understand if you had a school function to attend,” Dad said. “One more week isn’t going to hurt anything.”
“I promised her Dad.”
“I’ll call Mrs. Macy,” Mom said. “It won’t be a problem.”
Letting Mrs. Macy down was one thing. However, being good in sports was hard for me. I barely played during soccer season. I played to make Grandpa proud and keep Gerald Ford from yelling at me. The only time I did play in games was when a couple players were either hurt or kicked off the team for bad grades. I would rather sweat making ten dollars cleaning out a garage then sweat doing something only to be humiliated. That was until the next morning at the bus stop. Life has a way of changing course.
“Alex, I want you to be my partner in the team competition on Saturday,” Wendy said. “First place is a twenty-dollar gift card at Gordy’s music shop in Princeton for the girl and boy with the most points. It’ll be hard to score enough points and be the overall winner if you don’t earn points in the team events. My mom bought two shirts at Gordy’s last week for us to wear. They have fancy colors swirling all over them. We can make our competitors dizzy with our shirts. Mom said they are special tie-dyed shirts. Mine has pink with red and blue. Yours has yellow and red.”
“Hold on, Wendy. I never agreed to be your partner. I for sure never agreed to wear a shirt your mother thinks looks cool.”
Wendy stomped the dirt with her pink sneaker. “Fine, don’t wear the best looking shirt ever made. See if I care. I’m gonna win that contest. Bruce has a sore ankle. He doesn’t think it will heal by Saturday.”
I looked at Bruce. He shrugged. Then he gave me that smile he gives me when he’s not telling the truth. I was with him every day for the past week and he never once told me about his ankle being sore.
“I might help Mrs. Macy clean out her garage on Saturday.” I said. “Besides, Susie Baker asked me during lunch break yesterday if I would be her partner. I told her I would think about it.”
“Susie Baker?” Wendy yelled. “Susie Baker? You do know the girl is a major league hussy, right, Alex?”
“A hussy? What does that mean?” I asked.
“My grandmother told me that any twelve year old girl who wears makeup is a hussy. It’s why my mom won’t let me wear any makeup except for my pink ChapStick. Susie Baker wears lip-gloss. My friend Fiona even told me that Susie Baker doesn’t wear a training bra. She wears a real woman’s bra like her mother. That’s a hussy, Alex.”
“Yeah, so what? Susie came to my soccer games and even told me I can run super-fast. Bunky Miller told me, that Susie told him, that she thinks I’m cute. You never came to any soccer games.”
“Well, if I thought your stupid soccer team had a chance at winning or you might play, maybe I woulda come, Alex Schuler. I had piano lessons in the afternoons and you know it. If I didn’t have a lesson, then I had to practice piano and do my homework before my dad got home. So go be partners with that hussy, Susie Baker. See if I care. I’ll ask Greg Lewis to be my partner. I’ll bet he’ll wear the shirt. We’re gonna beat you and your hussy girlfriend in every event. You coulda had the best partner wearing a special shirt, but now you won’t. Boys are so stupid sometimes.”
I looked at Bruce. He shrugged. Game on. For the first time in my life, I wanted to win an individual event not named a spelling bee or current events. Sure, I wanted my team to win our soccer games but I was never the best player when I did play. This was different. I rubbed my chest to see if any hair had grown. Nothing. It didn’t matter. Cleaning out garages could wait a week. I would find that hussy Susie Baker and let her know we would be partners on Saturday.
Saturday came. I ate an extra bowl of Wheaties. I tightened the new blue laces on my sneakers. I wore a thin black shirt and my best basketball shorts. I would look fast and run faster. I knew there was little chance of winning first place. The school had too many giants disguised as eighth grade boys. Even some of the eighth grade girls were humongous. My goal was to finish with more points than Greg and Wendy.
It was a perfect spring morning. Blue skies and a cool breeze. Dad and Grandpa Frank took me to the event. Most of the morning events were on the fresh cut soccer field and the gravel track that surrounded the field. Dad and Grandpa sat in the chairs Dad brought.
The first thing that struck me was how many of the bigger kids that were bragging for days about winning, never showed up. I wore number twenty-two. The highest number I noticed pinned to anyone’s chest or shorts was sixty-four and that included all the girls. My odds of being humiliated moved from, without a doubt, to who knows.
The early events were the long jump, the mile race and the football toss. Mr. Archer, our gym teacher, recorded the scores. I finished two behind Greg in the long jump in twelfth place. I skipped the mile run. President Ford told me to skip the event that took the most energy. “You won’t lose by skipping one or two events. Use your energy on events you think you can score the most points,” he advised.
I sat and talked with Susie while watching about thirty boys and girls round the track four times, including Wendy. Greg barely beat Wendy. He got one point for all his running. Fool.
I shocked myself by coming in third place in the football toss. It helped when my toss landed right on the line. Greg’s toss wobbled way off line, ten yards short of mine. One of the giant eighth grade boys won the football toss by winging one twenty yards beyond mine and close to the line.
As Greg was walking by he said, “You got lucky you didn’t have to throw when the wind was blowing. The wind got mine and made it fade way left.”
“Sore loser,” I said. I started to realize Greg and others like him were all talk. Here was his chance to prove what a hot shot he was. He was no different from any of the other kids looking to survive middle school.
The next set of events included kicking a football, the one hundred and four hundred yard dashes. Inside the gym, there was a basketball-shooting contest and a few events for girls. I made the decision to enter the running contests since basketball was not a strength of mine.
Our soccer coach was right. Running fast was something I could do. I won the one hundred yard dash beating a few eighth grade boys. I could hear Grandpa yelling as I crossed the finish line. Wendy never saw me rack up the points from winning. She was in the gym with Greg. I later heard Greg came in second shooting basketballs. Greg spent hours in the park playing basketball and he played on the school basketball team. It was not a surprise he scored points shooting a basketball.
The longer race was a shock to my system. Seve
n boys entered the four hundred yard dash. I lined up along with six eighth grade boys. Mr. Archer blew the whistle. I sprinted out to the lead. After one hundred yards, I was cruising. After two hundred, still in the lead. Then I heard Billy Buffett tell me I was going to eat his dust. He pulled next to me. The lead was gone. After three hundred yards and four runners in front of me, my legs were rubber. Breathing was a chore. I battled to keep my legs churning. The last fifty yards, I barely jogged to the finish line. Last place was mine. No points for all that work.
I wobbled over to Dad for a drink of the bottled water he stored in the cooler for me. Grandpa smiled. “The four hundred is a real man’s race. That one will put hair on your chest for sure.” I rubbed my chest, still no hair.
The school arranged lunch for the students and parents. A few of the teachers showed up to cook hot dogs and burgers on the grill. The school cafeteria was open for anyone who wanted relief from the sun.
Mr. Archer scribbled down the scores and posted them on the wall. My name showed up in fourth place overall for the boys. Greg and Wendy were each in sixth place.
After lunch, many of the students left. Seven teams of boy and girl partners remained. In reading the scores, if Susie and I could win three of the four events, I would have enough points to be the overall champion for boys. It was still a long shot.
Derek Harrison and his girlfriend were in first place for boys and girls. If you looked close enough, I swear Derek shaved. Wendy’s friend Fiona told Wendy that Derek, and his girlfriend, Brittany, were secretly married. I never believed they were married. However, between classes, it did take a crowbar to separate them.
After lunch, the first event was the egg toss. Wendy whispered, “You’ll be lucky if I don’t heave my egg right at your dopey head for making me be partners with that jerk Greg Lewis.”
Susie tossed the egg first. I cupped it softly in my hands. Success. I gently lifted the egg from my fingertips in the direction of my partner. Susie stepped out of the way from the tossed egg. It landed on the ground.
“What are you doing? That was a perfect toss,” I yelled.
“I don’t want to miss and have that goo all over my pretty outfit,” Susie said.
Was this girl crazy? We had a chance to beat Greg and Wendy. Susie refused to give any effort at all. I refused to look at her. I sat with Dad and Grandpa until the next event. Wendy dropped hers on the third toss. They came in fifth place.
The next event was the egg and spoon. Each team member would place an egg in an oversized wooden spoon and race from one end of the soccer field to the other and turn it over to their partner. Susie started us off. She crawled like a turtle. When she finally reached my end, I asked, “What took you so long?”
“If I went any faster, I would sweat. Sweat would remove all the pretty curls from my hair. You wouldn’t want that, would you?”
I took the spoon and raced my way to sixth place. Greg and Wendy came in third. The last two events had the same outcome. Susie barely made an effort. After all the points were added up, I finished in sixth place overall for boys. Greg and Wendy each came in fourth.
Disappointed and worn down physically and mentally, I made my way over to Susie. “Why did you ask me to be your partner if you knew you weren’t even going to try?”
“This was the place to be today. Where else was I supposed to show off my new hairstyle and flirt with all the boys, silly goose? I knew you would never win. So, why should you care if I made little effort? Besides, some of the other boys turned me down before I asked you.”
My heart sank. Wendy was right. Susie was a hussy. I was still too young to know better, so I asked one last question. “I wasn’t your first choice? Bunky told me that you told him that you think I’m cute.”
“Every boy who plays soccer is cute, silly. It’s why I go to all the games.”
Being humiliated in the individual events never happened, but a sixth grade girl wanting to be the cutest girl on the field managed to make it happen. Girls were a mystery. The one good thing that came from the competition was that I no longer feared to compete beyond the classroom. I discovered most of the kids my age were all talk. Only a few had talent beyond my abilities.
Mr. Archer called out the final scores and handed first place to Derek and Brittany. I walked over to Greg to offer a fist bump. I wanted him to know, I knew, I was as good as he was in many skills. He bumped fists back. One fist bump was not going to change my opinion of him. He was still a jerk. As I was walking over to the car, Wendy caught up with me.
“I wanted you to be my partner because we’re friends, Alex. I warned you about that hussy. Fiona told me that most of the soccer team turned her down before she asked you. Next year, you and me are going to be partners. We can win.”
“I don’t know, Wendy.”
She shook her head. “Boys are so stupid sometimes.”
I smiled and walked to the car. Overall, it was a good day.
Later that evening, I read about President Stephen Grover Cleveland. His father was a minister and his mother came from a family who sold books. Mr. Cleveland was born in New Jersey but eventually moved to Buffalo, New York, where his uncle introduced Grover to lawyers in town. Grover became a lawyer. Grover wrote in my book that he didn’t like Abe Lincoln. He became a Democrat. He later tried to be the District Attorney for his town but lost to his roommate, who liked Mr. Lincoln. Grover’s roommate was a Republican.
I kept reading. Grover later won an election to be the sheriff but failed in the job. He went back to being a lawyer. A few years later, Buffalo needed a new mayor. Grover wrote about the political machine in the town. It was corrupt. He thought he was the best man to clean up the dirty politics. He won. Grover gained a reputation for cleaning up corruption and later became Governor of New York.
Stephen Grover Cleveland fought hard to promote business. He wrote in my book, “Though the people support government, the government should not the support the people.” He also wrote, “Honor lies in honest toil.” After my day of working hard competing against some of my classmates and feeling great despite not coming in first place, I understood his words. I also felt the same way every time I helped a neighbor.
People must like other people who work hard. Mr. Cleveland won the popular vote three times in a Presidential election and won twice. Despite winning the most popular votes the second time he ran for President, Benjamin Harrison of Indiana won more electoral votes and became President. Grover went home for four years. He ran for President again. He won the most popular votes and the most Electoral votes and was President a second time.
I tried explaining to Bruce winning the most votes doesn’t guarantee you can be president. There is a thing called the Electoral College. Each state gets a number of votes based on how many people live in the state. Even if people who live in the state vote for someone for president, the people in the Electoral College don’t have to vote for the same person the people voted for. However, most of the time they do. Bruce thought we lived in a democracy. I had to explain to him that the United States is a Republic. President Stephen Grover Cleveland is proof.
I looked over at the chair in the corner of the room. I thought Tommy Wilson was trying to steal my piggy bank again. It wasn’t him. The large man introduced himself as Grover Cleveland. He assured me he was not going to try to take my money.
“I noticed you had your troubles with the ladies today,” Grover said.”
“Yeah. It’s bad enough that Susie is a hussy, but now Wendy is mad at me. Maybe Wendy is right, boys are stupid.”
Grover laughed. “Oh, don’t worry about your friend Wendy. She is still your friend. I spent many years trying to figure out girls too. In fact, when I became president, I was still a bachelor. My sister joined me in the White House. Two years later, I met my future wife. Frances Folsom was a beautiful young woman. She was attending college and the daughter of a close associate. A few commented about our age difference. However, we had a long successful ma
rriage with five children. I was the first President to be married in the White House.”
Grover made me feel better about Wendy. “It was a long day, Mr. President. Maybe one day we can talk about why you wanted to be president. Did you want to be the boss of everybody?”
Grover stood up and tugged on his jacket lapel. “I can assure you it was not because I wanted to be the boss of everyone. Officeholders are the agents of the people, not their masters. Sam Wilson told me that some of our representatives are losing sight of that ideal. Be wise and understand elected officials serve the people. Citizens do not serve elected officials, Alex.”
Mom opened my bedroom door. “Who are talking with, Alex?”
I looked at the corner chair. President Cleveland was gone. “No one, Mom. Maybe you heard my radio?”
Mom frowned before kissing my forehead. She turned off the light after a long day.
~~~*~~~
Chapter Thirteen
Presidential Shadows Page 12