"Just the other day" The North Playground

I drove by the Horace Mann School; they have two playgrounds. They have really fun looking playground equipment on one end of the building, and a small soccer field on the other. The soccer field has lights so the kids can play there at night. “These kids today have it so easy.” 
When I went to Horace Mann, there was an annex classroom on the north end. The playground was on the south end. We had painted lines on the pavement to play square ball, a tetherball pole, and a swing set. There was also a field for playing kickball. If you kicked the ball into the adjacent woods, it was kind of scary to go get it back. Much had changed around the school.
One thing that has not changed over the years is that balls still get kicked over the fence and onto North Court Road. We had to wait for a teacher to be present before we could retrieve the ball if it crossed the street, which consumed valuable recess time. Ah, the memories.
Friday night, I was coming around the corner by the school and saw a colorful yellow and grey soccer ball on the edge of the street. It was on the north end of the school yard, but the soccer field is on the south end. I stopped to pick up the ball, thinking I would toss it over the fence to the kids at the other playground, but the lights were not on; no kids were playing tonight. Just then a teenager came down the sidewalk toward me. He obviously saw me stop and pick up the ball.
“That’s my ball,” he said. But for some reason, I doubted him. I had already looked over the ball.
“Are you sure it’s yours,” I asked. He said it was, so I asked him, “What initials are on the ball?”
“I don’t always put my name on my ball, but it would be JR, if it’s on there,” he said.
“Wrong answer,” I replied. “The initials are NP.” Then, the quick-thinking kid said the ball belonged to his friend. I laughed, “I wonder if NP might stand for north playground.” I was going to toss the ball inside the playground fence, but the gate was open; I knew he would take the ball when I drove away. “Tell your friend I’m going to turn the ball into the school’s lost and found, and he can come get it on Monday.” I put the ball in the truck with me and drove away.
There was another larger ball in the street at the south end of the school yard near the church parking lot. I stopped to pick it up, too. The big blue rubber ball was also marked NP. It was about the size we used to play square ball. Back in those days, the balls were red. For a moment, the ball made me cringe!
I recalled playing dodgeball in junior and senior high school; half of the boys took their shirts off to form two teams; the shirts vs. the skins. I hated being on the skins team because those balls would sting when they hit my bare skin and often left red welts. Yikes! Since the blue ball had the same initials, NP, I put it in the truck also. I would return the balls to the school office on Monday. 
As I drove away with the two balls, I got thinking, “Maybe those balls do belong to someone else. “NP. They could belong to my brother, Newell.” When I got home, I checked with my brother. He said they weren’t his, so I posted a picture of the balls on social media, just in case. 
Several people responded to my post, some were teachers, others were neighbors or parents. They all said the same thing: The balls belong to Horace Mann. The NP stands for north playground. I smiled, knowing that I’d made the right decision.
Monday morning, I walked through the front door at Horace Mann. Talk about DeJa’Vu. There was a man talking to the lady through the office window. While I waited, I peeked around the corner down the hall.
The man was finished with his business, and I stepped up to the window. “I found these,” I said….”
The lady in the office was smiling. “I know, I saw your post,” she said. “They are ours.” We chatted for just a moment.
“Walking in here sure brings back memories,” I said. “To the left was the door to Mrs. Murphy’s kindergarten classroom. Down the hall to the right, and on the right, was the door to Mrs. Sales’ room; my first-grade teacher. Next to that was Mrs. Bear’s room; my second-grade teacher. Wow, the feelings and memories,” I said.  “It’s hard to believe that was almost 60 years ago.” I hand the two balls to the lady and she thanked me.
I walked out the front door and got into my truck. I felt warm and fuzzy about my good deed. When I looked up, there was a partial rainbow forming in the sky above the soccer field on the south playground. I gave my dog Nova Mae a rub on the head, “This is going to be a fantastic day!”