The Valpo Core Reader
 

Authors

Tim Eloe

Document Type

Narrative Essay

Publication Date

1988

Excerpt

My younger brother and I finished our vegetables and asked for permission to go outside and play. My mom carefully scrutinized our plates and granted our requests. At that instant, we bolted for the door and flung ourselves into the balmy outdoors. Squinting a little at first, I led the way across the yard to the gravel road. Stopping at the usual place, we loaded our pockets with round river rocks for slingshot ammunition. This done, we proceeded to crawl on our bellies under the rusty barbed wire fence surrounding Farmer Brook's land. Bounding for a few yards through the tall grass, we reached our big scraggly friend, the old elm tree. Up the tree we scurried like nimble squirrels to our special branches. Here we usually passed the days catching busy black ants and grasshoppers, shooting our slingshots, or acting out whatever make-believe the day created.

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