Following a sleepover with Johnny Puskarich on the last weekend of summer, excitement for the first day of school began when Mom came bounding into the bedroom I shared with my big brother John singing, “Rise and Shine” on Monday morning.

After a hearty breakfast of bacon, scrambled eggs, toast and orange juice, this dynamic duo raced back to our bedroom to put on the clothes the minister’s wife laid out at the bottom the beds.

Before this twosome headed outdoors to begin a brand new adventure, the tall slender woman sat on the corner of the family room couch and held our little hands as she prayed for God to put a hedge of protection around us.

With a quick hug and a peck on the cheek, the dark brunette handed us a brown bag lunch as we headed up the cement treads to the street next to the little church at the top of the hill.

Once these minister’s boys reached the corner of Main Street and Oliver Avenue in front of D’Orazio’s service station, we held on to one another’s hands while crossing the road to the V.F.W. building where several other kids were milling about.

When the big yellow school bus came to a complete stop, we lined up with the rest of the children waiting to climb aboard.

After being warmly greeted by Lou Haddad, the amiable driver who also owned and operated the Dari Delite directly across from the schoolhouse, he closed the doors with the handle lock.

Along with several other students, these siblings scurried down the aisle and quickly ducked into the third seat directly behind the engineer before pulling away from the bus stop.

Although train tracks meandered through the small coal mining town nestled in foothills of the Appalachian Mountains of southwestern Pennsylvania, our iron horse traveled down the main thoroughfare without rails toward Bentleyville’s Main Street School.

With a broad smile across my face as we passed by our house below the Assembly of God church, I was looking forward to the adventure awaiting me at my brand new school on the opposite side of town.

While stepping off the mass transit vehicle, we spotted our cousin Lori Farrell skipping into the driveway between the vehicles of the car riders lined up alongside the buses.

Once this threesome entered the chatter-filled hallway mixed with laughter as well as a few tearful goodbyes, I let go of my brother’s hand as this six-year-old took a deep breath and stepped into a brand new world.

Upon walking into my new classroom with brown bag lunch in hand, this disabled lad was greeted by the teacher Mrs. Clara Detts before spotting my favorite pal on the other side of the large room with three other boys.

“Hey there, buddy,” stated Johnny as he put his arm around this minister’s son and gave me a quick squeeze. “It’s about time you got here cause I’ve been waiting for a very long time.”

“You’re so silly,” I replied while shaking my head with a scrunched up face and rolling eyes. “We just saw each other at Sunday school and children’s church only yesterday.”

“What I tell you boys,” interjected the kind-hearted young nipper as all the shavers began to laugh at my comical facial expressions. “You gotta watch my best buddy here cause he will have us all laughing at anything and everything.”

“Marcus Welby,” he continued as the small group of youngsters exchanged pleasantries with one another. “I’d like to introduce you to some of our new classmates.”

“These two live on the same side of town as you,” he added while pointing to the two boys directly in front of us.

While the black-haired nipper sat atop one of the desks, the lad with freckles splashed across his nose and cheeks straddled the attached swivel chair.

“Hey fellas,” I exclaimed smiling at the pair of friends while shaking my index finger. “I remember seeing youns this past summer riding your bikes across the Oliver Avenue bridge with Kelly Adams.”

“I’m Bobby Kuhn,” declared the shaver from his perch overhead as he extended his hand with a wide grin. “When I saw you come into the room, I told Timmy here that I thought I recognized you.”

“I live just down the street from Kelly; and this guy lives a few streets over,” he added while patting his good friend on his chest from behind.

“I’m Timmy Kennedy,” exclaimed the laddie with a reddish tint to his brown locks as he stood to his feet before extending the hand of friendship. “Hey, you have the same name as that doctor on the television show.”

“That’s not my real name,” I stated with pursed lips while giving my favorite pal a sideways glance. “My real name is Mark Price, the second son of the Assembly of God preacher in town.”

When I explained that my family calls me Marcus Welby because of the TV show, all the boys laughed out loud while I poked my elbow into my best buddy’s rib cage.

After a brown-haired lad with straight bangs poked his head between Bobby Kuhn’s arm and rib cage, the boy on top of the desk put the unsuspecting nipper into a headlock and gave him a noogie before a successful escape.

“I’m the only sane one of the bunch,” laughed the little tyke as he quickly fixed his hair before extending a hand. “I’m David Demo; and I live up the street from the laundromat downtown.”

When the bell rang, all the students quickly found their desks about the room as the beginning of a brand new school year was about to begin.

“Attention everyone,” noted Mrs. Detts as she rang a bell which was sitting on top of her desk at the head of the class. “Good morning class and welcome to the first grade.”

Mark S. Price is a former city government/county education reporter for The Sampson Independent. He currently resides in Clinton. If you’re interested in reading the extended version of this story in his novel titled, “Little Church at the Top of the Hill,” just type the title into the Facebook search engine and scroll down to Chapter 22, A Brand New Adventure Begins.