Most kids my age (12) had paper routes but not me! Call me weird, but, I had a regular trash route. Each trash day,- weather permitting,- I would jump on my trusty Schwinn bike and cruse the neighborhood checking out each trash can to see if there was something interesting to be had.

My usual route took me up and down alleyway after alley looking for "cool stuff." And yes, I found a treasure trove of "neat things," from antique jewelry/watches, vintage toys and tools; to an ornate box filled with very old U.S. coins, (which I still have today). Every few weeks or so, I would take my "treasures" as I called them, to a local antique shop; where on a good day, the owner would give me two or three bucks for my cache of goodies. But one chance discovery would change my life for the better.

Early one summer day, after taking out our trash cans, I was off for a day of "trash picking" (my Mom's term.) I had only gone a short distance when something cool caught my eye. Sticking out of a trash can was an old baseball glove. It peeked my interest because it looked just like my Dad's.

After pulling the glove from the trash can, I spied an old purse. Immediately I dropped the glove, and eagerly began examining my new discovery. At first glance, the purse contained just a few old photos of two soldiers. Being a history buff, I straight away recognized the pictures were of two Marines- one from "The Great War" and the other from World War Two. But as I glimpsed deeper into the purse, I found a grocery list and a few dollars. That's when my Boy Scout Oath kicked in, reminding me to do "my duty" and return the purse. This was not going to be as easy as it sounds, because the owner (an elderly lady) and I had a history of minor run-ins over the years.

Let me provide you, my reader, a little background. Every few days, a gang of us neighborhood kids would get together for a game of football and unfortunately our playing field was the side street next to her house. Like radar when the game began, her screen door would fly open and she would make her way to an old wicker chair. Her back porch made an ideal perch to oversee and if need be, safeguard her precious flowers from potential trouble. Our football must have been partial to flowers because every few minutes that football would take a crazy bounce and land smack-dab in the middle of one of her flower beds. What ensued next was a furious race to see who would get to the football! Thank goodness her porch had three steps, because by the time she negotiated the final step and had reached the ground, one of us kids (usually me because it was my football) had snatched-up the prize and made a hurried dash back to the safety of the street. After some cheering and a few slaps on the back the game would resume.

She on the other hand was yelling at us to "keep out of her garden or she would call our parents!" Lucky for us she never did. Well, now you understand my dilemma.

Gathering my courage, I knocked on my elderly neighbor's door. When the door opened she had a very puzzled expression on her face. I immediately held out her old beat-up purse; explaining I had found it in her trash. "Oh my, I've had been looking for my purse all morning" she said. With a big smile, she thanked me, and to my surprise invited me in for some milk and cookies. While munching on the cookies, I looked up and there on her wall hung a number of display cases filled with military metals and photographs.

She noticed I was looking at the display cases and began to tell me, with great pride, that both her husband and son earned these military awards and the photos I had found in her purse were of her husband and son. I could now see why the photographs were so important to her. Looking at all their awards, I said "Wow they both must have been very brave to receive all those medals." She merely nodded and then asked "if I would like to see their wartime scrapbooks." I replied "yes" and found the scrapbooks filled with other interesting photos and citations that chronicled their military service. After closing the last scrapbook, she reached into her purse and pulled out a dollar and said "please take this", but I politically turned it down.

As I got up to go - she added "one day I will beat you to that football." We both laughed and I said "we would be more careful while playing in the street."

But the story doesn't end here. I began to visit her once a week to see if she needed any chores or errands done. She always had something that needed to be done from gardening, to cutting her grass. But mostly, we just sat on her front porch and talked. We chatted about anything and everything. But her favorite topic was the Cincinnati Reds and baseball in general. My Dad had told me, "her husband had once been outstanding baseball player before World War One; adding he was wounded during the war and was never able to play ball again." Dad also told me her husband had died a few years back, and she had him buried overlooking the VA's baseball field." I thought how fitting! Now I understood why she loved the game of baseball.

Over the next few years I got to know her quite well. She told me stories about living through Dayton's Great Flood of 1913, her husband's baseball career, to a chance meeting with Orville Wright.

One day, as we talked she took me by surprise when she thanked me for playing catch with her husband while he was a patient at the Dayton VA. She explained "those shared moments with him made his stay a little easier." I was puzzled for a moment, but, remembered my Dad would schedule three or four baseball games each year at the Dayton VA. As his batboy, when the game ended, I would gather up all the equipment, while my Dad and a few of the ballplayers would stay and chat with some of the patients. On one occasion after everything was packed up, I noticed one veteran with a ball grove sitting in the stands; and since I had time to spare, I asked "if he wanted to toss a ball around." He said "sure he would love too." We would play catch until it was time for me to leave. I remembered tossing the baseball with this same patient after each game. I asked "that was your husband?" and she answered "yes."

With summer vacation over, my life was now filled with going to school all day followed by two hours of football practice. One day coming home from football practice, I saw my neighbor sitting on her front porch, lemonade in hand. She called to me to come over and have a glass.

As she handed me my lemonade, she asked how things were going? I told her about the trials and tribulations of being a high school freshman, adding that I had made many new friends at Colonel White. With a mischievous smile she said "are any of those new friends' girls?" I just laughed and quickly changed the subject.

Over the next year or so, when I saw her on the front porch, I would stop to see how she was doing and ask if she needed anything done. After reeling off a list of chores; she would always ask how I was doing in school, and at times she would insert some much needed encouragement or advice.

One day my mom told me my elderly friend was not doing very well and maybe I should visit her to cheer her up. I, however, found her in good spirits and full of questions. We talked for a while and after a few minutes of getting her up to speed on all the things that had happen to me since we last talked, I proudly announced, "I have a girlfriend." She just chuckled and said "about time!"

She then sadly announced "within a few weeks she would be moving to another city to live with her son and his family." Not knowing if I would see her again, I took the opportunity to thank her for everything she had done for me, and how much she had taught me about life. She just smiled and said "enough of that."

What happened next took me by surprise; she asked me to get her husband's military display case from the wall. After I handed it to her she opened the case and pulled out his "Good Conduct Medal saying "give me your hand."

As I reached out, she tenderly pressed the medal into my hand and gently closed my fingers around it. She explained "I want you to have this for all that you have done for me and my husband." Before I could say another word, she told me "now go run along" and with her most mischievous smile said "I'm sure your special friend is waiting to hear from you."

I will always be grateful for having the opportunity to be part of her life. Even after these many years, she still holds a special place in my heart.