Gangly, skinny, his forehead presenting with acne, the Boy at six feet, three inches towered over the Dean. Yet inside he felt about the size of the spies of the children of Israel alongside the descendents of the Anakim. That is, in the sight of the Dean, he must surely seem as a grasshopper.
"Have a seat right here." It was not a request. The Boy complied. The Dean pushed a legal pad toward the Boy, the yellow paper screamed "Guilty!" as the youngster's eyes took it in. The proferred pencil was red, putting an exclamation point to the accusation. "We know," asserted the Authority Figure, representative of the President, the Board of Regents, and by extension, believed the lad, of God Almighty, "exactly what you did yesterday afternoon. You will write an accurate account of your every move. Leave nothing out."
The Boy was yet several months shy of his seventeenth birthday. His best friend, who was the same age, had, just shortly before this glorious afternoon, acquired an automobile of his very own. This marvel of freedom and independence was a 1936 Ford fordor sedan. Gasoline was five gallons for a dollar. A Sunday drive was the very ticket for these two well-behaved yet fun-loving youngsters. As the boys were tooling along West Colorado Avenue, to their wondering eyes there appeared walking leisurely along the sidewalk two of the students from the bible school the Boy attended . These were girl-type students, and no discussion was required between the boys as the car rolled to a stop beside the curb and just ahead of the young ladies. Long story short, the girls got into the back seat of the auto; the boys remained in front. The drive continued through Manitou Springs, up Ute Pass to the Rampart Range Road which they took back into the Springs, taking care to drop the passengers off conveniently near the original pickup point. The boys went home.
It would serve no useful purpose to go into the details surrounding the number of rules of the school that had been broken in the execution of this innocent excursion. Hence, however, the Boy's Monday afternoon conference with the Dean.
The Boy took the pencil in hand and began to write. In so far as he was able, he wrote honestly, clearly, and completely an account of the events briefly described above. It was enough. It served the needs, whatever they were, of the authority of the school. Punishment descended upon the guilty culprit.
It only occurred to the lad much later that he deserved the punishment, not so much for the actions of the Sunday afternoon outing as for his own stupidity in complying with the directive the Dean had delivered. Our hero's best friend, owner and driver of automobile, was not a student at the same school, and thus his only punishment was the suffering that he no doubt endured knowing that the friend had been chastised. Yes, yes, to be sure.
©2011 David W. Lacy