Fiction
A
The two-hour flight seemed more like 20 minutes what with Jane's
wool-gathering and Walter's nap. At the field they were met by
Carter, a dignified man who looked a trifle odd in the Indian jacket,
trousers, and moccasins he wore.
"Wonderful to see you both!" Carter bubbled, relieving Jane of the
overnight bag and giving her hand an extra squeeze when -he shook it.
When the Campions were seated in the station wagon, Carter
nodded to the driver, and they started for camp. Jane could see Walter
relaxing as they drove past shadowy pines into beautiful country. But
he was quiet, as he had been before on Award Nights. Jane knew how
hard it was for him to watch other boys receive cups for athletic
distinction when his own son's name would never be called.
IAIhen they reached camp, Ralph was waiting for them at the di
rector's cottage. "Mmmmm," Jane said, hugging her only
child while the slender boy grinned shyly. "Walt, doesn't he look
grand?" Ralph's ordinarily pale face was tanned and his teeth shone.
"Hello, sport," Walter said, taking the boy's smallish hand in his
mammoth paw and giving it a hearty shake. They smiled at each other
with a kind of embarrassed love that contained in it the understanding
that Ralph could never give his dad the special pride that the boy
knew would have meant so much to him. After chatting with Ralph's
counselor, the Campions went off to the guest lodge to clean up while
their son rejoined his group. - ,
At six o'clock, all the parents and boys met in the huge, low
ceilinged dining room and listened to Carter recite the pledge of
Seminole brotherhood. After shrimp salad, roast chicken, mashed
potatoes, and stringbeans, they waited for the customary orange
sherbet. But it turned out to be raspberry.
"Well, well," Jane said gayly, "this could be an omen."
"Omen for what, Ma?" Ralph asked.
"Who knows? Maybe you'll be named winner of the marksmanship
award or something." '
"You know better than that," her son replied, looking at his father,
then turning away.
When the dishes were cleared, Carter mounted the dais and an
nounced that the peak of the Summer had been reached tonight. The
boys who had been outstanding performers would now be asked to
come to the platform and receive silver loving cups with their names
and skills engraved on them. Each name had been arrived at by
secret vote among the counselors, in the ancient Seminole tradition.
As the first name was read for the best all-around athlete, Walter
composed his big face into blankness. The names continued and one by
one the chosen made their way to the platform to be congratulated and
handed the precious cup. Ralph clapped modestly as each of his more
gifted fellow campers was called.
"And now," Carter was booming, "the cup for the outstanding left
handed tennis player at Seminole this Summer goes to Ralph
Campion!" He didn't mention that there was only one other left
handed tennis player at Seminole, a five-year-old boy in the "midget
group" who could barely hit the ball. Nor in the excitement did
anyone remember that a cup for such a unique skill had never been
given before.
As the dazed boy mounted the platform and received the secret
handshake from Carter before being presented with the two-foot
cup Jane watched Walter's face. At first unbelieving, dawning recog
nition had given way to a tremendous smile, then a cheer and a wild
clapping of his big hands. As Ttalph stumbled down from the platform
in a dream, Walter was on his feet leading the applause and going
forward to embrace his son.
Jane looked over the heads of the crowd at Carter, and their eyes
' met. A personal checking account was indeed a lovely invention. It
could establish, among other humanitarian benefits, a small fund for
strictly impersonal awards to left-handed tennis players at boys'
Summer camps.
Family Weekly, April 13. 19SS 3i
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