1948 was a pretty good year, and I had learned to read by then. My parents had both voted for Harry Truman for President, which made them happy when he won. Right after the election my brother Dwight was born, and I started my life’s journey as a middle child. My parents were also glad when the country of Israel, where Jesus lived, was re-established. Dad, who read the Bible a lot, said this was very important because it had been predicted in the Bible, and was something that had to happen before Jesus could come back. He was also worried about a city in Germany named Berlin, which was being surrounded by the Russians and not allowing people in or out. He was happy when our government started flying airplanes in to bring the people food. Dad bought a PolaroidTM camera that year which had just come out, but he complained about the film costing so much. My mother always wanted to see the movies which won the awards each year, so she took us to the theatre in Fort Lauderdale to see Hamlet which had won the best movie award, with a man named Lawrence Olivier, who also had won the award for best actor as the star. I believe Dad went with us to see the movie Johnny Belinda, because he always liked Jane Wyman who had won the award for best actress.

When I started second grade at Deerfield Elementary School in 1948 I was again the only boy, although one more girl had moved into town, making the ratio six to one. Badly out numbered in my own class, I tried to make friends with other boys, specifically brothers George Bigler in the third grade, and his brother Jeff in first grade. Their mother was the school cook. They actually lived in Boca Raton, but the boys attended Deerfield Elementary because their mother worked there.

They were both fun to play with at first, and excelled at climbing up palm trees. But eventually the younger brother Jeff started poking at me for no reason that I can remember. He apparently thought it was cute to come up behind me and kick me during recess. When I tried to catch him to reciprocate in kind he would run to his brother, or into the school kitchen area for his mother’s protection.

One day we were playing on the grassy area on the west side of the main building when Jeff snuck up and kicked me from behind. I had been watching for him, and spun around quickly and caught him by his ankle before he could get away. I jumped on his back as he lay on the grass and tried to get his left arm up to where I could twist it and make him promise to leave me alone.

Suddenly I heard the sound of someone running toward us, and felt the impact as his big brother George tackled me from behind. The impact knocked me off of Jeff and the two of them proceeded with fists flying to teach me some sort of a lesson.

I was on my knees with both eyes shut, trying to cover my face, when I heard an even heavier running sound coming toward us with a guttural scream, which sounded quite familiar. I opened one eye and caught the image of my 10-year-old, fifth grade sister, Linda, (who incidentally looked a lot like Lucy in the Peanut cartoons) flying through the air horizontally in a counter attack against both boys. I didn’t have to do anything as she proceeded to beat the tar out of both of the Bigler boys.

I never had a problem with either of the boys after that, and I gained a respect for my sister, which continues to this day. In fact, don’t try me. She’s still lives only two hours away.

David Eller
Publisher