I remember tossing a ball at a girl and it hitting her in the feet. She let the teacher know that I had tossed the ball and I found myself writing, "I will not throw balls at people." Hundreds of times. I'm not sure what the expected result of this brain washing was for. Writing the worlds over and over didn't help be develop a stronger sense of morals. I did learn to despise getting in trouble, and developed a razor sharp clarity about rules and how to weave through them to avoid trouble.
I remember having detention in the 3rd grade. Detention was not a practice that I knew existed at the time. It may have been the first in the school's history. I grew up in the era of Indian Jones and became fascinated with the character and hunting through tombs for treasures. I dressed up as Indiana Jones for Halloween. We were paraded through the black top so that the all the child could see what the others wore. As I was walking back home I was confronted by a girl. Maybe words went back and forth maybe they didn't. I drew the whip and crack it. The tail hit the girl, and she went back to the school to tell them what happened. Someone came out and gathered me to the principals office and I was given a talking to. Thinking back this may not actually have been detention but it was the first time that I was held after school.
When I was in 1-4 I came to be friends with a set of boys in the neighborhood. I remember that hanging out with any one of them individually I would not have problems. But when hanging out with them collectively more times then not they would turn on me. We were all in little league and cub scouts together. And outside of unsupervised playing through the neighborhood our families through us into relationship with each other.
Play was took three primaly paths at this part in my life, video games, organized play and unorganized play. NES and Super Nintendo were the systems I remember most though my childhood. I didn't have a system at the time so I would go over to one of the other children's house to play mortal combat, killer instinct or Mario brothers. There were three children's who's homes I would frequent the most. The one I mentioned in my first post that pushed me through the window. A second that lived hind me, and a third that lived on the other end of the block.
If we were playing together we would play either in the front or back yards. Many times we played baseball or hid and seek. In the absent of a formal game we would fight each other. I did not enjoy this game, but for fear of alienation I haphazardly participated until I was in to much pain to continue and ran home frequently chased by one or all of the boys. I remember running as fast as I could cutting though backyards and hoping fences to get to the safety of my home. Most of the play I remember fit in to this pattern.
Once in a while we would go into the forest preserves to wander around, dig holes, or build something. I remember most of these adventures fondly. One day we were hang around the train tracks that split the forest preserve in half. This specific section of train crossed over a drainage creek that runs through the town. I was either challenged or dared to climb underneath the train tracks in order to cross the pond. Under neath the train was some space where you could wedge yourself between the rusty frame of the tracks in order to move across. Near the middle I became very scared. The pillars that held the tracks up made crossing between them very difficult and I was loosing the strength in order to hold myself from falling. I began crying. and the two other boys began jeering at me which only heightened the level of shame I was experiencing. Pushing forward, I eventually crossed the creek and found that my knees were scrapped up and bleeding.
Writing this today, I was trying to figure out why I kept returning to this group of kids during my childhood even though the experiences were so painful. About a decade and a half later, I was at a bar with a couple friends and his acquaintances. We were playing bean bags and I was drinking Corona. One of the acquaintances turned to me and began fumbling through and apology. I barely remember the guy. I knew that he moved into town some where in the middle of my time in grade school and became a infrequent member of this group. But I didn't have his face specifically attached to any memory. I have a sense that I didn't like that guy. I brushed off the apologize and told him I did't remember who he was. A half truth.
