Part 1

 

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He could smell the burgers cooking on the out door grill.  “Man there is no other smell like it�?he thought to himself.

“Better get another one Scooter�?

He turned around, and there stood his mother, young looking, fresh and pretty, like he had always seen her.  She did not look any of the forty seven years that was her age, more like twenty seven, no wonder all his high school buddies like spending time at his house, they all thought Phil’s mom was such a fox !

She was standing there in a nice summer dress. The hem was just below her knees. She still liked the style of the late fifties, that’s when she had met Phil’s father.  A good business man was Jeff Wilson, He had provided a good home environment for his family of five, Phil, and his two sisters, Kay, and Brenda, both younger than Phil, and everyone called Brenda “Angel�? she being the baby of the family.

“Come on Scooter, here’s another one for you�?  It was his dad.  He was holding the spatula in his hand with a slightly over cooked burger on it.  His father liked to grill, but everyone in the neighborhood knew he liked to over cook everything, Jeff’s philosophy was “if it’s smoking it’s cooking, if it’s black it’s done�?

Jeff Wilson was dressed in his usual grilling uniform, old tee shirt, a pair of cut off blue jeans, flip flop sandals with a pair of white socks. This had been some cause for embarrassment for Phil, and his sisters over the years, and it had also been a source of heated discussion between the two Wilson men, but Jeff would not change, and Phil had come to accept it as just the way his father did things.

Jeff had always wanted Phil to follow in his foot steps, and some day take over the Hardware store, that he had worked so long and hard to make a success over Phil’s life. Phil though had not enjoyed working with his father. He had resented giving up his weekends stocking shelves, or cleaning out the back room, and taking inventory.  Phil had wanted excitement, and to be with his friends, going to the movies, or playing one on one, or touch football. There had been a lot of friction between the two during high school, and Phil was elated when He had been offered a scholarship to play baseball at Arizona State. He didn’t even make it through the first two semesters though. He had flunked out. If he had just gone to class instead of going off to be with new friends, and getting drunk every weekend.

Then Uncle Sam came calling. Drafted, sent to Basic Training in Missouri, and then to infantry A.I.T. in Georgia, then Viet Nam. Now he was home, and only had six months to serve, and he would be through.

“No thanks dad, I’ve eaten three, that’s enough�? He rubbed his belly showing that he was full.

“Ok Scooter, I’ll put these in the fridge, in case you get hungry when you get home tonight�? Phil knew he would not be hungry when he got home, maybe to drunk to walk he mused.

Phil had been called “Scooter�?for as long as he could remember. His Grandfather had given that name to him when he was first starting to crawl. His Grandpa had told him “You were having trouble figuring out what to do, then one day you got it all together, and off across the floor you scooted�? The name stuck. Phil’s Grandfather had passed away from a heart attack when Phil was twelve, and never got to see his grandson become on of the best wide receivers, or second baseman Scottsdale High had ever had. He had missed his grandfather terribly. His grandpa had helped Phil understand why Phil’s father was pushing him so much, and trying to instill a sense of drive, and need to accomplish things he set out to do.

“Time�?! He heard his mother call from the house. “They will be here any time now�?  She was talking about Larry, and Tom, Phil’s closest friends in high school. Both of them were now juniors in collage. Phil did his best to avoid the feelings of anger he had at himself for not sticking to it, and losing his scholarship.

He quickly crossed the wooden deck, and through the slider into the family room of their two story home. Passed through the kitchen with a quick “thanks mom�? and then bounded up the stairs two steps at a time, like he had always remembered doing. Down the hall, and he opened the door to his room.

His room was as he had always had it, and there was the faint odor of Phil’s favorite aftershave. “I’ve missed that�?he said to himself. “We were not allowed to wear cologne in the bush, too easy for Charlie to zero in on you from the sweet smell�? Phil was smiling at himself in the mirror. He was home now, safe from bullets, mines, pungi sticks, and RPG’s.  He ran a comb through his hair. “Hair�?he thought, “half an inch of stubble, and we call it hair�? His smile got broader, as he looked at the deep tan on his face, but the eyes, His eyes had a different look to them, something he had never seen before in himself.

Above the mirror and along the walls of his room Phil looked at the accumulation of his life to this point. The red ribbon for second place he had received at the age of eight for the papier-mâché hand puppet he made in church youth camp, and submitted by his teacher to the county fair. Phil did not even know it had been submitted and was surprised by the award. His blue and red ribbons won for swimming competition, his perfect attendance award for sixth grade, and the award he received for second place for singing in the county talent contest. “I was scared singing in front of all those people�?he thought to himself, but to win second place, he smiled about that.

Both Phil’s junior Varsity, and Varsity football and baseball letters, and the junior Varsity basketball letter, Phil had not been good enough to play Varsity Basketball, but he had won the free throw competition two years in a row, and had set a record that still stood for most consecutive free throws at the county tournament.

His Junior Prom picture with Sally Tate, Sweet, but not a good kisser at all, and she got mad when he tried to slide his hand up her leg while they made out in the back seat of his fathers car. Phil wondered what she was doing now.

The picture of his Senior Prom picture with Karen Harlow, Phil smiled big, now she could kiss!  Karen could kiss better than anyone he had ever dated, and she even let him feel her through her panties that night, “God I’m a stud�?he thought. Phil wondered what she was doing now. “Maybe I’ll look her up�?he grinned to himself.

The pictures of his Junior and Senior Football teams and the award as the counties top receiver his senior year, and the award for honorable mention to the state high school all star football team his senior year. The picture of him, lying on his side in his football uniform, surrounded by the Varsity Cheerleaders forming a semi circle around him, with pompoms raised over him. He got a good look up Jan Swanson’s skirt, Jan had nice legs all the way up, and she did smile when she saw he was looking, and didn’t hide her exposed legs, she just grinned at him.

And last his pictures of his Sophomore Junior and Senior Baseball teams and the award for the highest batting average in the county league his Senior Year. Also there was the framed letter from Arizona State University offering him a full scholarship to play baseball. Phil didn’t like to look at that, he hated himself for messing that up. Phil could have had it all if he had only went to class and studied. “What a fool I am�?he thought, “Never again�?he was determined to succeed this time. He had enough of adventure and proving to the world he was a man, he wanted to be a kid again, and do kid things, and not remember what he had been through the last year.