The Patriot and the Red Coat

This is how I met Linda.

"Don't forget, lock the door if you go out Bobby," Uncle Marty said.

It was one week into my summer with Uncle Marty and Aunt Evelyn.  Mom was teaching a summer course at Northeastern.  She asked if I'd like to visit Marty and Evelyn in Coventry, Connecticut.  Not too far from Boston.  She could visit weekends.  I jumped at the chance.

"And don't go too far," Uncle added.  Aunt Evelyn would drop him at his office, then go on to do the laundry and grocery shopping in nearby Willimantic.

"I won't," I promised.

I remembered the door when I went out.  My plan for the day didn't require going far.

An abandoned log cabin in the Nathan Hale Forest, almost completely collapsed, was my objective.  I found it yesterday, and decided on some repairs to turn it into my secret fort.

While visiting the Nathan Hale Homestead, Aunt Evelyn had gotten me a book on America's famous first spy.  I imagined myself as a colonial hero ready to "regret that I have but one life to give for my country."

Shored up the roof first.  Boards from a broken down lean to laid over the roof, and secured with a nail in each.  The front door was hanging off to one side.  I was able to re-hang the door with new screws for the hinges.

Now I could hold off the red coats.

Good thing I was ready, because wouldn't you know it, there was some one in red sneaking through the bushes.

"Halt, who goes there?" I asked.  "This fort is off limits to red coats."

Silence.

"Come out now," I commanded.

"Well, I'm not a red coat," said a blond haired girl, as she stood up.  "Just have a red jersey on."