Worth Every Nickel

In the summer of 2004,

I was visiting family in my hometown.

At the corner of Hampton Street and Horne Avenue,

there was a ball field with a lone pine tree,

located near the third baseline.

I gave this pine a name back when I was

attending Bonita Springs Elementary School.

I called it PT, short for Pine Tree.

PT was not much to look at. Its growth was stunted, and its unshapely manner provided little shelter or shade.

Looking back, what it did have was priceless, longevity. It was the only living thing tethered to school grounds that once "saw" me here so long ago.

Now, PT had seen its share of girls and boys

come and go over the decades.

It looked to be the same on my visit

as when I was in grade school!

 

In the summer months

while pitching for the Greens in Little League,

I was ejected from the game on this very field

for hitting a friend of mine 

with a fast pitch twice in the same game.

If PT could talk, it would tell you all of this.

 

During the school year,  

Mr. Williams, my sixth-grade teacher (1963-1964),

would take the class out to play softball.

On our weekly trip to the ball field in the schoolyard,

Mr. Williams would pull out of his pocket

a vinyl coin holder and promised

a shiny new nickel to anyone

that would hit a home run.

Nearly every week

I got a new shiny nickel!

I could get a Zero candy bar for a nickel!

 

As I walked out on the grassy field

that was once red clay,

I stood on the imaginary pitcher’s mound,

reliving my pitching mistakes;

I thought of how much I missed Chester;

he had been hit, not by a fastball, but by a drunk driver later on in life as a teenager. 

Walking the invisible bases and stepping on a grassy home plate, 

I recalled Mr. Williams’ sweet expression

handing me a shiny new nickel,

shouting so all could hear,

“That a boy! Here’s your shiny new nickel!”

I guess he was trying to tell us all

that if we hit a home run in life

we will be rewarded.

Seeing the ageless PT again, alive and well,

was like seeing an old friend,

the last living reminder of all of this.

 

So much had changed

in Bonita Springs since grade school.

It was worth every nickel for me

to get here and reach home plate.

_______

My only picture of PT was taken in 2004. Sometime between then and 2007, PT was removed on someone else’s nickel to make way for convenience.