PINTA PARADE

A few days later I get a letter from city manager Peter Korn in the mail, stating that he enjoyed meeting me at the Young Columbus luncheon and he wishes me all the best. I continue to wake up at 4:30 every morning. I continue to herald the news of the planet into the screen door of patrons who pay two dollars and forty-five cents a week. I continue to run down Moss avenue everyday in preparation for track.

I continue to pray.

I get the lead in the school musical. I make state in the mile. Every Saturday I comb the avenues of West Peoria with my collection book. I blush when I see the girl with the side pony tail and braces and twin brother who lives in the White House.  I spend hours listening to music with the two cousins who always tip me twice as much as their weekly paper is worth.

The old man with the flag pole in hos front yard always gives me a military salute when he sees me. When he hears that papers are being stolen after they are dropped off he offers to work the night-shift incognito with his registered gun to catch those 'high-school punks'.


I time my mile twice a week after school with my father shouting out splits. Sometimes while running I think about Kelly and David planning their sojourn overseas.

Sometimes, during my last 200 meters, as I begin to accelerate, I think about the girl with the pasty white skin and blonde hair who used a paper bag as a visual in her speech.


At the state meet I get fourth. Dad is all smiles. He tells me no to worry.

I still have next year ahead of me.


                                                                           ***

“He won the trip, but because of the Gulf war, they just gave him the cash. So he pocketed about $2000 instead.” Michelle Wise says to me, five years later. We are leaving Mr. Teskes house after a youth group gathering.

                                                                        ***

                      

Earlier that spring I arrive home from track practice. Maurice Alwan is in my front lawn talking with my mom. He jokingly inquires where my shin guards are. I smile back.

 

“Hey, I just wanted to apologize to you for not being able to escort you to the Young Columbus banquet. I was in Brazil. All the DM’s were impressed with your speech.

 

I tell him thank you. I feel like apologizing because I didn’t win.

 

“But you know what I hear,” Maurice Alwan adds. “I hear they’re not even gonna have the trip this year because of the war.” 

 

I look back at Maurice and say what.

Neither Kelly or David will be traveling anywhere this spring. . I think back to the Journal Star article on Kelly stating that the furthest he has ever traveled has been to Kansas and that he has never been on a plane before. I can’t imagine what it would have been like had I been told I would be going somewhere and then been denied

“Apparently they are going to be compensated. They will get two thousand dollars. Plus some sort of savings bond.”

Although we still have our WE SUPPORT OUR MEN AND WOMEN IN OPEARTION DESERT STORM sign in our window the war has been mostly over for a number of weeks..

"Yeah, just keep up the good work, you never know what will happen next year."


I go inside. I think about David and Kelly being told that they will not be allowed to go on a sojourn they earned due to their countries International involvement in a war no one really understands. 

I wonder if they curse and swear when they deliver the Journal Star every morning while looking at the headlines, wondering what could have been.

I wonder if Kelly received his passport. I wonder if he is looking at his passport and thinking about the Eiffel tower right now.