After the game we head back to the car. To avoid the crowd my dad decides we are taking a shortcut over the 8’ barbed-wire fence. I say nothing in front of my friends but I look at him in horror. By 15 there are about 180 pounds on my 5’3” frame. (Despite our victory I know this game is rapidly going south.) My dad demonstrates scaling the fence; then he pops back over to help me and my friends. One by one they are safely on the other side. Now it’s my turn. My worst fears are realized. I cannot boost myself over. I get impaled on the top. My friction-worn jeans are actually frayed on the inseam; I end up literally hanging by a thread in front of my entire high school. My dad’s glory-reliving is decimated. He is ashamed of me but too good to say it. It is a long, hard, tear-fighting, pie-foreshadowing drive home.That stranded sophomore never dreamed of ending up here* on Thanksgiving: stronger inside and out; with enough medical excuses to satisfy even the strictest gym teacher and absolutely no desire to use them. Thank you, Josh and Sara and Greg. You have given me the New World. Happy Thanksgiving!
*I anonymously posted this on Thanksgiving 2007 on the wall by the water fountain in my gym. But, the management tore it down as soon as they saw it- probably because they refused to promote individual trainers. Have to add "virtual walls" to the list of things I am thankful for.
