Memories have a way of fading over time. I distinctly remember throwing my medal Flipper lunch box at my best friend, Colleen, in the second grade. That was in 1969. I also recall that it gave her a black eye. For years I have felt genuine remorse for that juvenile act of aggression. I have had some email correspondence with Colleen recently. Her recollection of that altercation is much different.

Colleen says that she threw her medal Snoopy lunch box at me. For 40 years she too has felt genuine remorse. Colleen also confessed to kicking me with her ice skates. I am convinced that is a figment of her vivid imagination, because I don’t remember that incident at all. I lean toward guilt on my part and innocence on hers.

Coleen and her four siblings were our neighbors, when I was in elementary school. I played football in the backyard with her. We created intricate tunnels and castles in the expansive sandbox in Colleen’s backyard. We played tennis at the Village Green. Our neighborhood baseball teams resembled the characters portrayed on The Sandlot. We skated on the frozen pond that joined our respective yards. I recall intense games of hockey, but no kicking episodes.

In 1975, my family moved to Lubbock, Texas. At age 13, I left the familiarity of the old neighborhood, and all of the friends who made it special. The sandlot and the sand box soon became distant memories. But I never forgot my close friends. My 13 year old son uses facebook, text messaging, and email to keep up with his friends. In the dark ages, there were no such electronic privileges. The years went by with little to no contact with my fellow baseball, football, and hockey teammates.

I suspect that we have shared a lot of the same experiences over the past 34 plus years. I really don’t think any of us were angels when were teenagers.
There is not much doubt that we all experienced first love and a host of other milestones of growing up. I went on to tear up my share of cars, struggle with discipline issues in high school, and even flunk out during one semester in college. But during all of those milestones of life I often wondered what ever happened to my childhood friends. Thankfully I won’t have to wonder much longer.

I am flying back to my childhood home next Monday. I am particularly thankful that the mystery of the lunch box assault has been tentatively solved. I found out recently that Colleen works with juvenile delinquents professionally. The case is closed! Her interaction with me at a young age prompted her to spend her career helping aggressive kids! I hate to admit it… The unconcealed weapon was indeed the Flipper lunchbox, and not the Snoopy one. I suppose I am ready to turn myself in at this point. But perhaps before this cold case is closed we should go back to the original scene of the crime and do some serious reminiscing? I can’t wait for next Monday to arrive. I am thinking we will cite the statue of limitations, and declare each other innocent.