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on the broad middle of the playground where boys engaged in sword fighting and Cowboys and Indians. Rushing to the fray, with swords flashing, fingers, thumbs, and knuckles smarted, from raps delivered by makeshift swords made out of wood. As cowboys chased Indians, or Indians cowboys, one hand whipping the bottom, created the horse, while the thumb erect, and finger pointing, created the cowboy. The chases swept all the way into the rough and higher ground of the northwest corner, where the east-west and the north-south walls came together. The older boys played football on the same broad middle, contending with teams from Columbus, the city just beyond the walls of the orphanage. How the boys would close each time-out huddle, joining their hands and saying a fervent Hail Mary, their very lives depending on winning the game! In memory, I still can hear, the orphans’ jubilant cry: "Scudére, Scudére!", as Tony Scudére their football hero sprinted again to a touchdown for Old S.V.O! |