No recounting of my days in elementary school would be complete without the story of the Flag Incident. I was sitting in the front lobby because I had been mouthing off to the lunch lady. (Notice a pattern?) Across the room from me sat Ronald Patton, the Bad Kid in school. Not a bully, just a kid who got in more trouble than I did. I had actually been punished once for going to his house and then trying to deny it. Here's how he showed his appreciation.
A group of school patrols (students) had just brought the school's American flag in for some reason and put it on the seat next to me. I knew the kids, and one of them made a cutting remark about what a loser I was. The others snickered and they all walked into the office. I was so pissed, I picked up the flag and flung it to the ground. Across the room, Ronald began yelling at the top of his lungs: "Patrols, patrols, he just threw the flag on the floor!!" I picked it up quickly and put it back on the seat. People came running from everywhere. Ronald was telling them what I'd done, I was being questioned, there seemed to be 100 voices talking all at once. I denied everything. The principal grilled me. Denial. Teachers, my parents, other kids all asked me what happened. Denial. The thing wouldn't go away. A week after it happened the school district scheduled a hearing where Ronald and I would face off and tell our stories. To my parents' credit, they stuck by me. The night before the hearing I got an attack of conscience and told them the truth. What amazed me was how quickly everything cleared up. Ronald and I never spoke again and school was over just a couple of weeks later. I think I got some restrictions as punishment, but things stayed pretty frosty between my folks and me.
Middle School
Henry David Thoreau Middle School. Such a beautiful and pastoral name for such a bland place. I feel here that I should describe some of the friendships I had developed in the Vienna Woods.
Mike McKnew: Mike was a developmentally disabled person. In 1968 he was "retarded". He was the first kid I met when we moved to Vienna. He was 12 and I was 9. This matched us up pretty well, though he never got much older in his actions. Our friendship only lasted a couple of years, as I moved on and he didn't.
Billy Madden: Kid across the street from me. He gave me my first cigarette, talked about sex, hung with me when I was restricted to my yard for an entire summer, played Frisbee with me and gave me the honor of being the only kid in the neighborhood he didn't beat up. He had two sisters, Trish and Shawn. I don't know what happened to Shawn but Trish has spent time in rehab. His older brother, Bobby was a musician and liked making monster models.
Bud McCarson: I enjoyed hanging out with Bud because he seemed to have the kind of family I wish I had had. His Dad was pretty cool and Bud seemed well-adjusted. By comparison I was quite a geek. I suppose that desperation to be more like him led to the kind of good/bad natured teasing that came my way. I never got it.
Joe Walter: Definitely cool. Funny guy with older brothers and he had some musical talent. We all loved singing Beatles songs a Capella. But like with Bud, sometimes the ragging on me got to be too much.
Guy and Diane Lester: Their Dad was a truck driver who always seemed to have a can of beer nearby. Diane was the first girl I ever kissed, and it was sweet. Unfortunately, I was way out of my league with all the other sharks that were circling around her. It was pretty disappointing. Guy was part of the neighborhood group who would play "kick the can" and hide-n-seek on hot summer nights. My sister beat him up once.
Summers were great in Vienna. The Good Humor man, fireflies at night, basketball at the Community Center, 4th of July at Vienna Elementary, putting pennies on the railroad tracks and riding bikes to the four corners of the world. Billy and I biked to his grandmother's house one day and she fed us like we'd just come home from prison camp. And packed a meal to go for the ride home!
7th and 8th grades passed quickly and the pattern remained the same. I would start off pretty well, lose steam around Thanksgiving or so, pick it up a little after Christmas, then slide to the end of the year. There was always something more interesting out the window. Did I have ADD? Never found out. I know that to this day I find it hard to just sit in a non-interactive class and just listen without drifting out the window or off to Dreamland.
I took a girl out on a date for the first time in 8th grade. Her name was Carol. I went to her house the night of the dance with a lovely corsage. There she stood, radiant in her sparkly dress with the spaghetti straps. Then I realized that I was expected to pin the corsage on her. Gulp...The thought of my hands so close to her pink, womanly flesh nearly reduced me to a steaming puddle on the floor. Her Mom sensed this and stepped in to rescue me. I escorted her to the car and held the door to let her into the back, then started to get in the front seat. My Dad was talking to her parents and turned in time to see me do this. He gestured dramatically and said: "Get in the back!" Oh. Right.
The dance was fun, and I felt pretty suave as I used my hitherto unknown dance moves on the floor, including my first slow dance. Her parents picked her up and I felt the whole thing was a success. A couple of days later I ran into Jim Smith, a total jerk from my neighborhood who never passed up an opportunity to needle me. He was friendly with Carol's family and had the inside story on the whole night, including Carol's assessment of my dancing skills. "She says you dance like a wounded turtle." Eep. I'd say that was a blow to the ego, but you have to have self-esteem to have a well developed ego. Hurry summer!
Let's stay tuned for the Next exciting adventure: Putting the high into High School!
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