The Beginning

by Ed Nelson

  In an attempt to change the conversation I told Mr. King I was a customer of his. Of course he wanted to know what I was buying, that led to a description of my control unit, which in turn lead to a description of my hairdryer idea. He liked the electronics, the women liked the hairdryer.

  I told him that I had bread boarded a control unit, but would have to hire a professional electrical engineer to lay it out, so that it would work, and that it could be manufactured. He wanted to know where I had heard about manufacturability versus engineering.

  I told him how Mr. Robertson my merit badge instructor talked about engineers designing things; then throwing it over the wall to manufacturing without any idea if what they designed could be made to specification or cost effectively.

  Mr. King sighed, “I’ve over five hundred engineers on staff, I wish they could understand that concept. I fight that battle every day.”

  He continued, “We have some sharp junior engineers that do some moonlighting, would you be interested in paying one of them to design what you need?”

  “Sure as soon as we get a nondisclosure agreement signed,”

  I learned about NDA’s with my movie contract, Mum, Dad and I had to sign one not to disclose the movie plot or script.”

  That brought Mr. King up short.

  He gave me a long look and said, “You aren’t just a pretty face are you.”

  Now how does a guy respond to that? I just smiled. Coach in the meantime was following the conversation like a tennis match.

  Coach now put in, “He hasn’t been tested but most of the teachers at school think Rick has a genius level I.Q.”

  I just smiled some more, I wasn’t about to dig my hole any deeper. In the meantime Judy was beaming like her pet puppy had performed an amazing trick. Even her mother looked approving. Maybe I had dodged the parental kiss of death.

  It was a good sign that after dinner Judy and I were allowed to go for a short walk alone. When we were out of sight she took my hand and we talked as we walked. When we got to a more secluded area, but still near the club house she said, “You aren’t allowed to kiss Annette but you are allowed to kiss me.”

  I was so quick into that kiss that we bumped teeth. I backed up, went slower and got it right. It wasn’t a fancy French kiss or anything like that, just a pressing of the lips. That apparently was the correct level of kissing for a first kiss. She gave me a hug and we started back.

  We all said our good nights, and I was wished good luck in the tournament. It wasn’t until we were in the car that Coach told me.

  “You might want to wipe that lipstick off, Tex.”

  Even my roommate John didn’t bother me when I got back to my room. All was bright in the world. Love, infatuation, lust, whatever I was enjoying the feelings.

  I was still feeling that way two days later, I had beaten the Scarlet course at Ohio State University into submission. I played a round at 67 followed by a 63. I positively destroyed the course with my 130 for the two rounds, not a course record but close.

  My nearest competitor was Tom Logan from Athens who shot 139 for the tournament. The trophy was presented to me by a previous champion, Jack Nicklaus, was almost as big as the rodeo one. He even said he would look forward to playing me someday.

  I wondered if I could I keep the trophy as another clothes rack or would it go to the school. I suspect Mum would make certain the school would have it.

  I saw Judy in the gallery on Sunday, but her parents whisked her away immediately after the awards, so all I got was a small hug and congratulations from her. I had been hoping for another kiss. Life was still good and the ride home was fun. I think Coach enjoyed my win more than I did.

  He did enlighten me a little when he told me, that while he wasn’t looking for a job, it wouldn’t hurt to have me on his resume. He asked me if I had given any thought to turning Professional since he had mentioned it.

  I told him probably not, there are too many things I want to do in life. Golf was fun, but it wasn’t all consuming to me. Getting up every day to play golf would be work. I didn’t think I wanted to turn my play into work.

  Coach came back with, “Just think of the money, you can win a year’s salary from winning one tournament they pay up to eight thousand dollars for first place.”

  That’s when I enlightened coach about my income.

  “Coach I made twenty five thousand dollars last year catching two bank robbers, eighty five thousand dollars breaking up a gang of rustlers. I will make over seventeen thousand dollars next spring for seven weeks of work in the movies. Money is not the issue with me.”

  The only new news I was giving him was about the movie work and that would come out soon anyway. I tried to not even think about the gold in the safe deposit box.

  “You are only fifteen; I wonder where you will be when you are twenty or forty. By then I bet you will know the President whoever it will be. I thought about telling him who my godfather was, but I didn’t know if he had a heart condition. The rest of the trip home was quiet.

  He dropped me off at my house. It wasn’t late, just after dinner so everyone was up. Mary did her cheering. The trophy said it all.

  To Be Continued in Book 2 School Days: The Richard Jackson Saga

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