the red brick Davidson County Hermitage Hall Complex (its full title), Named after Andrew Jackson's famous residence here in Nashville, stood stately at 2121 8th Avenue South in Downtown Nashville. Room 3B, on the Veranda Wing of the complex, was where I was supposed to be living. The residential facility provided crisis intervention, on-site educational programming, and 24-hour staff supervision for the proper care of boys with no place else to go.

I was placed in Hermitage Hall by proclamation of Davidson County Juvenile Court Magistrate Josiah Ellington. If I have any living relatives out there somewhere in this big wide world, none have ever stepped forward to claim this orphan.

Nashville of 1971 saw Freddie Hart's "Easy Loving" become the Country music song of the year. If loving was so easy, I sure wasn't getting very much of it at the time. Other happenings around Music City back then included drive-in movie theatres were all the rage. For Nashvillians, Woody Allen's movies debuted at the popular Loew's Crescent Theatre Downtown, and kids actually got out of school to attend the State Fair. On television, everyone was watching "All In The Family". As I write this, to me that is comical, because I did not have a family.

The physical location of Hermitage Hall placed it eight blocks from what became world famous as Music Row on 16th Avenue South. Music Row was considered the Heart of Nashville's Entertainment Industry. The group home is also located two streets away from Monell's, my all-time favorite restaurant in Nashville. Here, you "Enter as strangers and leave as friends," as they like to say.

Originally constructed in 1905 in an area known as Germantown, Monell's offers much more than wonderful Country cooking served family-style. Remember, to pass everything to the left around the table. Frequently, I come here not only to feast on all their delicious food, but to write. In fact, I have penned several of my articles, both for FanStory, as well as others I have sold to the highest bidder, right here at Monell's. It is kind of a home away from home for me.

You stroll down a sidewalk leading to their entrance, which happens to be in the back of the structure. As you round the corner of the building, you encounter a small cement pond full of large Goldfish. These you can feed with the pellets Monell's provides for this purpose. But, no fishing allowed.

Past that point, you observe a scenic gazebo, with wooden swings, in the middle of a Venetian garden. I have spent countless hours enjoying the serenity of this gazebo. Because Monell's is almost always packed with guests, the gazebo is also ideal for socializing. I definitely recommend Monell's to everyone who visits my fair city.

This morning, in an effort to present them to you, I have come to Monell's to attempt to reacquaint myself with memories that have been mostly suppressed for some 50 years now. Looking back into the far reaches of my memories, man, I could write a book on the roads I took and the lessons that I learned.

I never did fit in too abundantly at Hermitage Hall. Most of that was by my own choice. I used to regularly skirmish with other boys living there. Some encounters were little spats, or differences of opinions. When their opinions were different from mine, fists-a-cuffs soon followed.

I was one of the smallest boys at Hermitage Hall. Now, by no means was I a bully, but I wasn't a pushover either. Fighting was against the rules and it did not matter why. One of my favorite maneuvers when I fought was to grab two hands full of the hair on top of my opponent's head and attempt to yank it out by the roots. The louder they screamed in agony the harder I pulled. Most of them saw the light and left me alone. That made me much happier, which was all I really wanted.

One particular incident that occurred at Hermitage Hall, and for whatever reason has stuck with me all these years later, occurred on a Friday at lunchtime in the cafeteria. I don't remember what swill they had prepared for us to consume. I suppose it really makes no difference now anyway. None of their pig-slop was any too consumable. What I do recall is one of the last confrontations I had with any of the other boys in the facility.

Phillip Gobertson was a loudmouthed muttonhead, who fancied himself an intimidator. No one liked him. He'd been at Hermitage Hall only a short while. I don't know if he aged-out of the system there or not, and I don't care. For all I know, it is much more probable he wound up serving time in the Big Boy's House. You know, the one with all the steel bars. Again, I do not know that for sure and, once again, I could care less.

As soon as he approached me, I sensed a battle brewing. I was ready for whatever he had in mind. For two days, he had been trying to engage me in conflict. Now, in front of a captive audience, he decided to make his move. That was not a wise decision on his part.

Threateningly, he glared at me and stated, "Guess I'm gonna have to punch you now!"

Dropping my fork on my plate, right in the middle of what was supposed to be mashed potatoes, I suppose, I stared back at him and just as menacingly as he had been replied, "Guess you're gonna have to try!"

I didn't care if he had thirty pounds of blubber on me. I was much quicker than he was and bolted up off my chair. I grabbed him around the waist. It was ample enough. Rapidly, I tackled him to the floor where he laid flat on his back. The poor floor had to support all that weight. I don't know how it did.

As the crowd of boys gathered around us whooping, hollering, and encouraging the two banty roosters on into combat, I reached up on the refreshment table situated near to where I had been eating lunch. I picked up the punchbowl I knew was sitting there, and poured the ice-cold liquid over Phillip's carrot-top, sending raspberry punch running down his chest and pooling on the floor around where he laid. I left him there in tears, humiliated by what I had done to him.

The altercation cost me to lose my canteen privileges for two weeks. Who cared? I seldom enjoyed any of the treats sold there anyway. I also had to consult with Doctor Angelica Oliverez. She handled all the anger management issues Hermitage Hall felt any of us boys displayed. Whoop-de-do!

Later, I heard Phillip walked away from the altercation unscathed. He was not disciplined at all for our confrontation, although he started the issue. I simply finished it. I couldn't concern myself with that matter though. I had larger visions of grandeur that involved five sticky little fingers. You can probably guess what no good they were up to.

One newsflash was certain. We were not old friends making new memories.

(To Be Continued:)