Random Thoughts, Notes, & Incidents

My brother, Steve, sent this to me yesterday. Here's the note that was attached to it, "Dad and I found the attached photo while rummaging through an old trunk in the garage. I believe it was taken around Thanksgiving, 1972. The six of us had just come in from causing great mischief at the Chestnut Hill Country Club (something to do with a golf cart and a frozen swimming pool). When Mom saw the picture, she said we all look guilty. She was right. Enjoy!"

The setting is the steps leading down to our living room at 54 Fellsmere Road, Newton Centre, Massachusetts. Behind us you see the stairs (obviously), the dining room, and the front entryway to the right. Left to right the picture is of Mark (cousin), Miles (brother), Rick (cousin), me (top center), Craig (cousin), and Steve (brother).

I don't recall anything about landing a golf cart in the swimming pool, but it would go along with a lot of what I do remember. We lived just a few doors down from the Ward School, and the back end of the golf course was just on the other side of the school fence. When the snow would end the golf season, we'd tunnel under and climb over that fence and turn turn the golf course into our playground with sleds, toboggans, etc.

Sledding would get old after awhile, and we'd wander around the deserted grounds looking for trouble. If there was a golf cart that hadn't been secured, we'd have certainly checked to see if it would start. If the golf cart would start, we'd certainly be curious as to how strong the ice over the swimming pool would be. Not that I'm confessing anything, mind you. I'm just saying that there may be something to my brother's story. And, being the youngest of the six boys, I'm sure it wasn't my idea...

Here's something I will confess to: The way a certain bend in the golf course came up against the school fence, with a little gully between the two properties, guaranteed that a number of golf balls would get lost on the school side of the property. To make extra money, we'd collect these lost balls and sell them back to the golfers for a quarter a piece.

Here's the confession part: Sometimes, if we really needed some money, and there weren't any balls on our side of the fence, we'd run out on the fairway and grab balls that were in play, then run back to our post on the kid's side of the fence.