I once had a Spiderman bed spread. I remember it being really warm, but very scratchy. It was later replaced with a blanket that I can't remember and the Spiderman bedspread became the roof of one of my forts in the woods behind my house.
A couple of years after I had moved out, I decided to walk down the old alley that ran behind my house. It was winter and the woods were brown silouettes in white, but there in their silent midst was a very tattered shred of my past hanging from a broken wooden pile. It was good to see how long nylon really lasts.
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I broke my ankle when I was sevenish. My K.I.T (knight rider) big-wheel filled me with mad courage, and I decided to ride down this great hill at the end of our block. In the winter it made a superb sled-riding hill, but riding a big-wheel down it was a feat most kids would never have thought, let alone actually attempt.
Mayhaps they were brighter?
Anyway, I took off at the top and my little legs were going up and down as fast as they could on those little stubby pedals. Once I reached the bottom my intent was to "spin out" on the sidewalk and tumble into the grass. What I actually did was madly fly across the sidewalk, down a driveway and into a parked car.
I remember the sound of kids laughing and the spinning sound of my little overturned big-wheel's tire spinning.
Good times.
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There was this girl in Jr. High named Dorey Broemer who was kind of a bully. One day, at school, she was in the lunch line behind me, going on about punching her brother Eddie, and how much stronger she was than him.
I had just started doing sit-ups every night before I went to bed. I would have my little sister, Lacey, sit on my feet while I sat-up and she counted outloud to 25. This was the path I took to that all-american physique.
I was thinking this would be the opportune time to test my new abs of steel, so I asked Dorey to punch me in the stomach as hard as she could. Without much debate she agreed to my little test.
Dorey was to count to three and then punch me in the gut as hard as she could.
What I was supposed to do was inhale, hold my breath and tighten my stomach muscles. Unfortunately, for me, Dorey punched on two, instead of three, and she struck me just as I emptied my lungs of oxygen.
Well, actually it was her punch that emptied out my lungs. I remember waking up next to a row of red lockers with about 15 kids standing around me with blank stares on their faces. They were all, except for Dorey.
Dorey was smiling.
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on the playground.
I used to do "penny-drops" off of the monkey bars we had on our playground. And this was back when they had actual CEMENT on the ground. It wasn't any of this soft cushy cedar bark that is on the playgrounds these days.
In fact all of our playground equipment (such an odd term) had the potential to be deadly, or at least debilitary. Everything was metal with sharp angles and exposed screws. I can't believe I never got tetanus.
I was really good at jump rope (go figure.) I would jump rope with the girls and these other two not-too-long-before-gay kids, Robbie Herdrich and Ron Waites.
The girls said I did it best.
I loved doing double dutch. (this is beginning to sound sexual...so not the vibe I was going for.)
Anyway, my sixth grade teach, Mrs. Metzger, saw my desire to jump rope during recess some sort of warning sign. She actually called my Mom to report to her that I didn't take up enough interest in football, and maybe the man of the house should engage more with me.
The man of the house "engaged" me plenty.
The point is jumping rope was a good thing. Football kind of sucked.
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Enough flashbackin' I have to clean the house a bit. D. is coming home tomorrow. He has been gone a week.
It will be nice to see him.
Although I am pretty good at holding my breath under the water, I have noticed he helps keep me afloat.
...today's favorite song : Treasures of Gold Damien Jurado. Thanks Becky. ;)
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