When I was still a very little boy, I went to an event at a local park with my much older sister and her boyfriend. My sister and her boyfriend, young, in love, and completely caught up in each other, left me pretty much on my own. I was drawn to a huge collapsible table set up near a wooded area. Beside the table was a shiny red bike with a tag on the handle bars. On the table was an assortment of toys and games, all brand new, still in the packages. My eyes rolled over them to the end of the table; to the electric train set. It was beautiful, exactly what I’d always wanted. In awe, I reached toward it.
“Don’t touch the prizes.” someone shouted at me.
“Prizes?” I thought to myself hopefully, wondering just how I might get a shot at that train set.
Someone blew a whistle and more kids than I’d ever seen at one time began lining up, side by side, behind a white chalk line on the grass in front of the picnic tables. I ran for it, and squeezed into the line just as a man, standing off to one side, raised a pistol in the air. The starting shot rang out and I was off with the bang.
