About 20 years ago, Lorraine and I were invited by a friend to a convention being held in a small Catskill hotel. We did not know anyone, besides our friend, but it promised to be a fun weekend.

As is my lifelong custom, I always arrive too early. This habit dates back to the years when I went to Sweet Sixteen Parties. Somehow I always managed to get there before the honoree. As the family was setting up chairs, before the announced time, I was there. It is a curse but hold that idea for a future column.

Being early and being in a rural Catskill town, Lorraine and I went "Antiquing." We visited some yard sales and some overcrowded with furniture store sales. It was a lazy Friday afternoon and we were going to meet the other conventioneers at a late Friday Night supper.

At one of these overstocked stores, in a dusty inconspicuous corner, I found "it." What was "it"? It was a real medal.

Let me describe my uncovered treasure. Hanging from a horizontal gold (faux) bar was a blue satin cloth from which dangled a copper arrowhead. The Nobel Prize, The Croix De Guerre and the Army Good Conduct medal all paled when compared to the aura cast by this work of art. It was designed by a genius.

The medal signified that the recipient of this momento of victory had placed second in the local sheriff's Bow and Arrow shooting contest in 1928. What a magnificent trophy!

I paid the storekeeper 75 cents he was asking and quickly affixed the medal to my sweater above my left breast. The droop was about three-inches and I checked myself in the mirror. I was more than satisfied. Lorraine was delirious with laughter.

That evening, as we met all the conventioneers, I beheld a strange phenomenon. As I shook hands with these new acquaintances I noticed they looked into my face initially and then coyly at the medal on my breast.

Not one of these people asked about the dangling object hanging on my black sweater. Of course, I made sure no one got close enough to read the inscription. I carried myself with a vibrant, unassuming and modest demeanor befitting a hero and I really enjoyed the evening.

During the whole weekend, no one raised any questions about the medal. They were all too well-mannered.

Until this day, I can only guess at what they imagined the medal commemorated.

I have never had so much fun for 75 cents.