That Was Then

Wiseguy. What's in a name? It was in the summer of '69, when my neighbor and hero, Jim Ward first called me that. Wiseguy it was. Jim was a tall, good looking high school sophomore, all-star baseball player and my hero. He could throw a baseball a million miles in the sky! A million miles I tell ya. It looked like a rocket. I wanted to be like him, around him and heck, when I grow up, I wanna BE him!

Always lacking for attention, I would do anything. My sense of humor was fairly well developed at an early age, so I loved to make Jim laugh. Since I was the jester, he gave me the appropriate nickname: Wiseguy! It stuck. Everyone called me that, even my dad. Hell, he knew it was true.

Those summer days were filled with baseball, apple pie and Chevrolets. We played baseball like we were getting paid. Our side lawn served as the field. Our windows served as a reminder that "breakers pay alone!" Linford glass loved us and summer.

Everywhere I went, people seemed to know, that's "wiseguy." They also knew I deserved the title. I saw more time in the principal's office than he did. I missed more recesses than the rest of the class combined. I even hand to hold the teachers hand for an entire day! All day, everywhere, like I was a baby. I was nearly ten years old for pete's sake. The upside? She was beautiful, young, had a sexy southern accent, looked like Ms. Crump on Andy Griffith and I was in love!