John Collins was kind of a loner. I don't recall him being close to anyone in our class; in fact I don't rememember him doing anything with anyone after school. He was quiet, not a very good student, and he was almost invisible in class.

But he was a good athlete and was unbelievably strong. Once he got me in a "scissors grip" on the " Monkey Rings."  I was  worried  I was going to be seriously injured.  I finally talked him into letting go of me.

I liked kickball a lot.  It was fun, I was pretty good at it, and the fielding was easy compared to baseball, which I was poor at.  I was one of the two or three strongest kickers in my class.

But then there was John, who was the best.  One day he did something that several of us in that class still talk about.  He made a kick that was beyond anything any of us had ever seen.

If you recall, the lower schoolyard had two kickball (softball) diamonds.  One was in the NW corner  with homeplate facing  basically East toward the middle of the upper field and Oxford St.  The second diamond was in the SW corner, with the home plate facing slightly west of NE.

One day John kicked a ball that went way beyond the lower field and slope,. and was still rising when in slammed into a clock that was under the cafeteria, a little east of the small gym storage area.  The clock was damaged and stopped, despite a protective screen.  We all stared in amazement.

I visited the Oxford School yard in 1992, the weekend of our 40th reunion. I remembered John Collin's feat.  I fully expected to survey the school yard and find the feat not so remarkable.  To my surprise, the distance seemed very impressive to me even for an adult.  I could not imagine a 10 or 11 year old  boy making such a kick. It looked like something that even a teenager or young adult would be unable to do.