A Time To Hold

About the Book

Central High School sits on an expansive grass knoll. Stone medieval towers rise at the four corners of the fortress like structure, solid, stoic, everlasting. It is the citadel of learning in this small New Jersey industrial town. It has been there forever, or so it seems to those generations who have lived there. Many of the people of this town have trudged its halls in pursuit of a high school diploma and, sometimes, even learning. Some have found their first loves and lifelong mates within its walls. All who have experienced the spirit of Central have carried it into their adult lives. It lives and breathes in them and is a powerful force in the mores of the community. It is the center of town for most. As one approaches the main entrance up broad, slate slabbed steps, there is a patio halfway up the slope. A fountain used to stand within its stonewalled center. The fountain was removed after 1965 and replaced with a statue. It is bronze. It is weathered. It is remarkable. The shoes are high tops and the strings are wrapped round the shoe, knotted and straggling loose upon the ground. The toes are upturned, with feet too small to fill them, cleats peering out from beneath. Sweat socks fall rumpled upon the shoes, layered with padded football pants too big for the scrawny thin calf that bares itself ever so lightly. Upon slender hips rests pads encased in the too large pants, held firmly with a belt and adhesive tape. Here and there an oversized jersey is crammed carelessly into the pants. Within the jersey, and under padded armor, are the shoulders of this young boy, slumped, bent, in a fatigue that wearies the observer and produces an inexplicable sadness. Up between the shoulder pads rises a skinny, muscular, neck. Much too small for a boy man. Arms hang down at his sides as he stands in his dignity, fingers grasping casually the straps of a battered helmet dragging the ground. Matted hair, wet from sweat, crowns a remarkable young face upon a head with chin held high. Stern, weary, triumphant, sad, noble...all these emotions and more are captured in the lines of that face. But, the eyes...they speak of greatness.

About the Author

The author retired from the Department of Defense some years ago with the thought of teaching part-time business courses at university level and possibly writing a book or two. His government career included managing a diverse number of operations. Upon retirement, he became immersed in academia finally teaching business courses and managing business resource operations at Salisbury University on Maryland’s eastern shore for thirteen years. He and his wife, Dot, live in a water community on Maryland’s coastal bays with the author’s mother and their two miniature poodles. The author has four grown children, one grown stepdaughter, eleven grandchildren (about half adults), and six great grandchildren with another on the way.