I had former classmates who said I should be scared. I have heard psychologists say that such an abrupt change in the middle of the eighth grade can be damaging to a child's psyche. But for whatever reason, I do not look back on our family's move from Springboro to Franklin with any bad memories.
It just was what happened. And it was something I dealt with. My first day of school at the Franklin Junior High School was at the beginning of the second semester. I got on the bus at the bottom of our street, sat next to kids I did not know, and had no idea where this experience would take me.
Though perhaps the worry was this would be the worst thing that ever happened to me, I would say later -- many times -- that moving to Franklin was the best thing that ever happened to me.
I would soon meet the guys who have been my friends for the rest of our lives. I would play on Wildcat teams that played against Springboro, and never lost. You can tell this was the 70s, because look at all that hair!
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May 27, 1974 -- Maybe Later
I figured I would at least give it a try. I did not have clubs of my own, and I'm sure I wore tennis shoes and used any old golf ball I could find. But Steve Hart and I figured if we were going to live a block away from a golf course, we might as well see if we had a knack for the game.
Judging from my effort that day, I had zero knock for the game. I shanked, I topped, I four- and five-putted. And, what's more, I'm sure I even cheated a thousand times, and even then I still shot 67 -- for nine holes.
I came home tired and frustrated.
But I was determined to give it another try.
This was the summer between my eighth and ninth grade. I played on a baseball team coached by Ralph Mrusek, and I had already said I would play football in the fall, or in August, when practice started. But still, I was a 14-year-old kid who did not have a driver's license, certainly did not have a girlfriend, did not have a part-time job, and that meant I had time on my hands to play -- every day.
By the end of the summer, I was still not very good, but I was better. For the time being, football and basketball would command my attention until baseball came around again. Golf would have to wait.
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August 24, 1974
It was Mom's 38th birthday, and the perfect time for Dad to show off our new house. I'm not sure who the adults in this picture are -- except Mom, of course -- but there is Joey getting in on about the 3 millionth photograph that was not originally intended for him.
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December 3, 1974
