My brother also liked to play sports. He played on the school softball team.
At the outset of summer when the school year ended, his enthusiasm for playing softball extended to the desire to attend a camp at East Carolina State University. The camp lasted two weeks and several boys from his baseball team would be going.
On telling my mother he wanted to go, she said, “No.”
But my brother did not give up asking. He held out hope that he could somehow change her mind, persuade her of his sincere desire to improve his hitting and catching skills as a baseball player.
My mother held her ground. My brother had grown a lot in the year and a half since my father’s death. He stood, by this time in his and our lives, taller than I. And I was taller than our mother.
My mother made plans for our summer trip and at one time during my brother’s plea to attend the sports camp, pointed out that he could not attend the camp because the date we were to leave for Williamsburg was the same day the camp ended, leaving not time for him to return home and join us for the vacation.
Interestingly enough East Carolina State University, where the camp was held was located in the northeastern part of North Carolina. We would pass by it on our way to Williamsburg.
(to be continued …)
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