Hawk Secretary

I used to think that, in order to have adventures, the crucial thing was to have a club secretary.
In other words,
(1) With your friends, form a club
(2) Give the club a nifty name like “the Hawks”
(3) Decide who will be Club Secretary
(4) Have adventures, probably involving smugglers of gold ingots
When I look back on those childhood years, during which I never did have any adventures, I am forced to ask myself the question: did we choose the right club secretary?

4 thoughts on “Hawk Secretary”

  1. It sounds to me like your club name was not nifty enough. You should have tried something like “The Icy Black Hand of Death Club” and worked up from there if that didn’t produce results.

  2. Did you have the right secretary?
    Obviously not. I was available though…

  3. When I was growing up, our club (ACE – initials of us three kids in age order) was headed by my older sister who was club secretary and club general/dictator/tyrant. Her age gap and status was oft exploited in the pursuit of adventure. e.g. “Chuck, go pick up that Wolf Spider”, “Eddy, wade through the stream under the Square!”, “I’ll write, direct, promote and perform the role of princess in my play, Chuck you can be the knight coming to my rescue, and Eddy you can be the troll!” *
    It worked purely because the club secretary was at the head of the chain of command and there were three of us – one sucker and one supporter. Three was always a good number for adventure!
    * More often than not my little sister wore the brunt of our adventuring, bless her. I really thought we’d lost her the time we forced her to wade the stream alone. But I’ve got a good reason to have a healthy respect for spiders after the spider adventure. The bite made my finger swell like a sausage and hurt and then when the pain left it itched like a b*@tard…

  4. Our club never got past step 2. Years were spent arguing over whether to include the word “gang”. We had amazing Secret Seven-esque adventures though, and you shall be jealous of me and my friends.
    Although it must be pointed out that the last sentence is a lie.
    More effective was the production company established by my brother and me. We called it ASSA (= “Andrew, Steve, Steve, Andrew”) and produced all sorts of stuff.

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