The night before we started going to Central Elementary, I did something really idiotic. Idiotic enough that if it was on YouTube, the word "Fail" would be in the title.
My mother taught at Park Junior High School. The teachers decided to hold an ice cream social on the evening after the second day of school. The teachers could bring their families to enjoy some ice cream.
After we had eaten ice cream, Loyd and I went outside to hang out with the other kids. At the front of the school was a concrete porch and steps with metal handrails. We were sliding down the handrails, which were only a few feet long, as they only had to cover about five or six steps.
I decided to try to slide down the handrail headfirst, thinking I would be able to stop myself before I got to the bottom. Guess what? I wasn't able to stop and fell on my face on the concrete. I don't remember feeling any pain, but knew that I had scratched up my glasses. Come to find out that the glasses had created an inch-long gash in my forehead above my right eye. We went to Mom and Dad and after much discussion with some of the other teachers, they took me to the emergency room.
The doctor said I was going to be okay, but he was going to have to give me three stitches. First, he put this stuff in the wound. He said it would sting for 10 seconds. That was the longest 10 seconds of my life, but he was right, it stopped hurting after a short time. He gave me the stitches and told me to come back in a couple of weeks to have them removed.
I was kind of disappointed that the stitches were not that obvious, as my hair at the time covered the wound. I was hoping I was going to get to freak out the new kids I was going to meet the next day. I thought the stitches would make me look tough. (Actually, the stitches just made me look like some uncoordinated twerp.)
Thursday, October 31, 2013
Tuesday, October 29, 2013
A new school
When we moved into our new house in town, we were somewhat outside the district for Hermosa Elementary School where Dad taught and where I had attended for four years and Loyd attended for one year. Someone had asked Dad if the new house was in the Hermosa district. He joked with his reply, "We're going to make it Hermosa."
The first day of school came. Loyd and I returned to Hermosa and were getting back in the groove. After the end of the second day, I went to the lobby where Dad would get us to drive us home. I saw Loyd looking around the library. I asked him what he was doing. "Oh, I'm just getting one last look around here."
"Why?"
"Because they're making us go to Central Elementary tomorrow."
I was shocked. I did not see this coming. I loved Hermosa. I had friends at Hermosa (or so I thought). I didn't want to leave. Dad had told us before school started that we didn't have to change schools. He was wrong.
Central Elementary was actually four blocks away from our house, so it kind of made more sense to go there. At the time, Central was the oldest elementary school in the state. It was considerably smaller than Hermosa, as each grade only had two classrooms, as opposed to three for Hermosa.
When I first showed up in class, I recognized some boys who used to go to Hermosa. Apparently, they had moved into this district sometime in the past. However, they acted like they didn't want anything to do with me. This was my first indication that things were not going to go well here.
All day in class, I kept hoping that someone was going to come along and say there was a mistake and I could go back to Hermosa. Every single day, I wished that I could go back, but it never happened. Even on the last day of school, I hoped that they would let me return just for that one day, but that didn't happen, either.
Just as I was somewhat adjusting to the situation after a few months, I found out that someone I went to Hermosa with had just moved into the Central district, but he still kept going to Hermosa. I felt like if Dad had not opened his big mouth and told everybody about our great new house, they wouldn't have forced Loyd and me to leave. (I realize now there was no getting around having to let the school district know where we lived.)
Years later, Dad said that if he'd known that he had the ability, he would have filed a lawsuit against the school system to keep us at Hermosa. Dad recognized that the move affected both Loyd and me academically and keeping us at Hermosa would have helped us to flourish. He also said that a few years later, they stopped forcing students to change schools just because their address had changed. I would point out that any lawsuit he filed against his employer would have put his job in jeopardy, even if the only desired result was just to get Loyd and me back in Hermosa.
There is so much bad stuff that happened during that year, I will have to devote a few individual chapters to it. However, I should say beforehand that despite me hating it at Central, I was actually thankful for the experience later on in my life. As noted above, I learned pretty quickly that I was not a popular as I thought I was. That was something I needed to know. I was going to go to Zia Intermediate School the next year, which was comprised of all the students from all the elementary schools. I was going to eventually find out my status among my fellow students. I was likely going to face other kids telling me, "Guess what? Your daddy's not around. We don't have to put up with your nonsense anymore." This way, I found out a whole year early and did not have to deal with that confrontation because they probably thought I had already learned my lesson the hard way. I did.
The first day of school came. Loyd and I returned to Hermosa and were getting back in the groove. After the end of the second day, I went to the lobby where Dad would get us to drive us home. I saw Loyd looking around the library. I asked him what he was doing. "Oh, I'm just getting one last look around here."
"Why?"
"Because they're making us go to Central Elementary tomorrow."
I was shocked. I did not see this coming. I loved Hermosa. I had friends at Hermosa (or so I thought). I didn't want to leave. Dad had told us before school started that we didn't have to change schools. He was wrong.
Central Elementary was actually four blocks away from our house, so it kind of made more sense to go there. At the time, Central was the oldest elementary school in the state. It was considerably smaller than Hermosa, as each grade only had two classrooms, as opposed to three for Hermosa.
When I first showed up in class, I recognized some boys who used to go to Hermosa. Apparently, they had moved into this district sometime in the past. However, they acted like they didn't want anything to do with me. This was my first indication that things were not going to go well here.
All day in class, I kept hoping that someone was going to come along and say there was a mistake and I could go back to Hermosa. Every single day, I wished that I could go back, but it never happened. Even on the last day of school, I hoped that they would let me return just for that one day, but that didn't happen, either.
Just as I was somewhat adjusting to the situation after a few months, I found out that someone I went to Hermosa with had just moved into the Central district, but he still kept going to Hermosa. I felt like if Dad had not opened his big mouth and told everybody about our great new house, they wouldn't have forced Loyd and me to leave. (I realize now there was no getting around having to let the school district know where we lived.)
Years later, Dad said that if he'd known that he had the ability, he would have filed a lawsuit against the school system to keep us at Hermosa. Dad recognized that the move affected both Loyd and me academically and keeping us at Hermosa would have helped us to flourish. He also said that a few years later, they stopped forcing students to change schools just because their address had changed. I would point out that any lawsuit he filed against his employer would have put his job in jeopardy, even if the only desired result was just to get Loyd and me back in Hermosa.
There is so much bad stuff that happened during that year, I will have to devote a few individual chapters to it. However, I should say beforehand that despite me hating it at Central, I was actually thankful for the experience later on in my life. As noted above, I learned pretty quickly that I was not a popular as I thought I was. That was something I needed to know. I was going to go to Zia Intermediate School the next year, which was comprised of all the students from all the elementary schools. I was going to eventually find out my status among my fellow students. I was likely going to face other kids telling me, "Guess what? Your daddy's not around. We don't have to put up with your nonsense anymore." This way, I found out a whole year early and did not have to deal with that confrontation because they probably thought I had already learned my lesson the hard way. I did.
Mom and her cooking
Although she suffered with depression, my mother had a strange sense of humor. I get the idea that if YouTube were around back then, she would be posting stuff she did to my brother and me and sending it to Jimmy Kimmel.
One time, the whole family was at Grandma Bend's. This particular day, Grandma Bend was at work. Mom made lunch for all of us. The main course was meat. I'm pretty certain it was pork and there was pepper on it. It was very good. Both Loyd and I complimented her on the food.
My mother then said, "Yes, I got the meat from that box over there." On the counter was a box with a drawing of two dogs on it. Inside the box were fake hamburger patties that were meant for the dog. That was dog food.
I said, "Mom, you're kidding, right?"
"No, that's where I got the meat."
"Mom, do you know that's dog food?"
"No, it's not. It's meat. It says nowhere on the box that this is dog food."
"But there are two dogs on the box!"
"But they're salivating. That means it's really good meat!"
I started calling her on it. "Mom, I don't think it's possible to get this kind of meat out of those patties."
"Well, I did! I cooked it, and that's how it came out!"
Loyd and I stopped eating. We probably didn't eat more than 1/4 of our meat. Later, Grandma Bend came home for lunch. Mom served the meat to her. Loyd and I went up to Dad and said, "Dad! She's making her eat the dog food!" He said, "The two of you just shut up about that!"
Mom never admitted that she was kidding around. Dad never said anything, either, except to hush us when Grandma Bend was eating.
Years later, Mom would complain that Loyd and I never seemed to like her cooking.
One time, the whole family was at Grandma Bend's. This particular day, Grandma Bend was at work. Mom made lunch for all of us. The main course was meat. I'm pretty certain it was pork and there was pepper on it. It was very good. Both Loyd and I complimented her on the food.
My mother then said, "Yes, I got the meat from that box over there." On the counter was a box with a drawing of two dogs on it. Inside the box were fake hamburger patties that were meant for the dog. That was dog food.
I said, "Mom, you're kidding, right?"
"No, that's where I got the meat."
"Mom, do you know that's dog food?"
"No, it's not. It's meat. It says nowhere on the box that this is dog food."
"But there are two dogs on the box!"
"But they're salivating. That means it's really good meat!"
I started calling her on it. "Mom, I don't think it's possible to get this kind of meat out of those patties."
"Well, I did! I cooked it, and that's how it came out!"
Loyd and I stopped eating. We probably didn't eat more than 1/4 of our meat. Later, Grandma Bend came home for lunch. Mom served the meat to her. Loyd and I went up to Dad and said, "Dad! She's making her eat the dog food!" He said, "The two of you just shut up about that!"
Mom never admitted that she was kidding around. Dad never said anything, either, except to hush us when Grandma Bend was eating.
Years later, Mom would complain that Loyd and I never seemed to like her cooking.
It was hard to get my hands on soda when I was a kid
This is typically what I experienced on a regular basis when I was much younger:
Stuff like this made growing up seem like an endless hazing ritual.
Stuff like this made growing up seem like an endless hazing ritual.
Monday, October 28, 2013
Another big change in the family
During the summer before I started 5th grade, my parents decided that they were going to buy a house in Artesia. The reason being that the rent was being raised on the two-bedroom house where we lived. My parents paid $10 a month and it was being increased to $50, so they figured they could just go ahead and buy a house if they were going to have to pay that amount. Loyd and I didn't want to move. We considered that house in the country our home and we weren't ready to go to the "big city."
We spent about a month looking at houses. It was weird to go into homes while people were still living there. We finally found a house that Mom and Dad liked and we moved in. It had two stories and a basement. There was definitely a lot more room and a lot less yard to take care of.
When we lived in the country in the two bedroom house, Loyd and I shared the same bedroom. The new house had a master bedroom downstairs and two bedrooms upstairs. We thought we were finally going to get our own rooms. We didn't. Mom decided that we would still share a room and the other room upstairs would be the guest bedroom.
A few years later, I got fed up with having to share the room with Loyd, so I started sleeping in the guest room. I guess Loyd didn't like that I got to sleep in the other room, so he would go to bed even earlier in the guest room. After awhile, Mom and Dad just went ahead and took out the bed in the guest room and put Loyd's bed in there. I got to stay in our original room.
One funny thing is that we had moved into a house with two bathrooms. One upstairs and the other in the downstairs bedroom. My father hoped that this meant he wasn't going to have to always wait to go to the bathroom when he needed it. No, he was wrong. There would be several times when both bathrooms were occupied, so he would have to go to the gas station across the street and use their facilities.
Moving into the new house caused a new set of problems for Loyd and me. You'll see that in a future blog posting very soon, but not tomorrow.
We spent about a month looking at houses. It was weird to go into homes while people were still living there. We finally found a house that Mom and Dad liked and we moved in. It had two stories and a basement. There was definitely a lot more room and a lot less yard to take care of.
When we lived in the country in the two bedroom house, Loyd and I shared the same bedroom. The new house had a master bedroom downstairs and two bedrooms upstairs. We thought we were finally going to get our own rooms. We didn't. Mom decided that we would still share a room and the other room upstairs would be the guest bedroom.
A few years later, I got fed up with having to share the room with Loyd, so I started sleeping in the guest room. I guess Loyd didn't like that I got to sleep in the other room, so he would go to bed even earlier in the guest room. After awhile, Mom and Dad just went ahead and took out the bed in the guest room and put Loyd's bed in there. I got to stay in our original room.
One funny thing is that we had moved into a house with two bathrooms. One upstairs and the other in the downstairs bedroom. My father hoped that this meant he wasn't going to have to always wait to go to the bathroom when he needed it. No, he was wrong. There would be several times when both bathrooms were occupied, so he would have to go to the gas station across the street and use their facilities.
Moving into the new house caused a new set of problems for Loyd and me. You'll see that in a future blog posting very soon, but not tomorrow.
Friday, October 25, 2013
I assaulted my brother
I'm not proud of the fact that I caused my brother Loyd some major pain when he was seven years old. However, in my mind, things had gotten out of hand that particular day and I dealt with it the best way I knew how.
One day, my Aunt Pand and Uncle Rid and their children Wend, Sted, Grid and Mad came to visit. Wend was 4 years older than me, Sted, the only girl of the group, was 2 years older and Grid was 1 year older. Mad was 7 years younger than me. Remember that my brother Loyd hated being younger than me and wanted to hang out more with the older cousins. Chilling with Mad was not going to cut it for him. So, he came up with a plan to sort of put me in my place. (I should add that our cousins were pretty good at giving both of us equal attention. It was not like I completely monopolized them.)
Anytime I said something to my cousins, he would say, "Fayd's stupid" and other comments along that line, like, "Fayd doesn't know what he's talking about because he's stupid" and "Fayd's the stupidest person in the world!"
I'd had enough of this, so I went and told Mom and Dad what was going on. They were enjoying the company of Pand and Rid and pretty much ignored me.
Loyd continued with his "Fayd is stupid" campaign. I got really fed up, so I picked up a wooden baseball bat on the ground and threw it at him real hard. It hit him square in the head. (Please note that I was not holding the bat when it hit him. I wasn't trying to bash his skull in.) I immediately felt bad for doing it.
Everybody started freaking out. Mom and Dad kept yelling at me and asking why I did that. I started crying and said, "I don't know." I guess they forgot about me complaining about Loyd's behavior earlier.
For whatever reason, a decision was made not to take Loyd to the emergency room. Pand just advised Mom and Dad not to let Loyd go to sleep for awhile, or else he might not wake up. Loyd turned out to be okay afterward.
I don't know if Loyd got the message, but he never called me stupid after that. However, I believe it caused him to find more subtle ways to undermine my intelligence. Even to this day, when talking to others in my presence, he will say something regarding my character that makes me look not so bright. Even worse is that he will do that and I might not realize until later that he had just insulted me again. He likely did this on purpose to begin with, but has now been doing it for so long that he just does it without really thinking about it.
Since that incident, no one has ever brought it up again, not even Loyd. I'd be willing to bet that no one remembers anything that transpired before I hit him with the baseball bat, but they'll all remember him getting smacked and how it was my fault. I keep hoping that he'll ask about it, but so far, he hasn't.
One day, my Aunt Pand and Uncle Rid and their children Wend, Sted, Grid and Mad came to visit. Wend was 4 years older than me, Sted, the only girl of the group, was 2 years older and Grid was 1 year older. Mad was 7 years younger than me. Remember that my brother Loyd hated being younger than me and wanted to hang out more with the older cousins. Chilling with Mad was not going to cut it for him. So, he came up with a plan to sort of put me in my place. (I should add that our cousins were pretty good at giving both of us equal attention. It was not like I completely monopolized them.)
Anytime I said something to my cousins, he would say, "Fayd's stupid" and other comments along that line, like, "Fayd doesn't know what he's talking about because he's stupid" and "Fayd's the stupidest person in the world!"
I'd had enough of this, so I went and told Mom and Dad what was going on. They were enjoying the company of Pand and Rid and pretty much ignored me.
Loyd continued with his "Fayd is stupid" campaign. I got really fed up, so I picked up a wooden baseball bat on the ground and threw it at him real hard. It hit him square in the head. (Please note that I was not holding the bat when it hit him. I wasn't trying to bash his skull in.) I immediately felt bad for doing it.
Everybody started freaking out. Mom and Dad kept yelling at me and asking why I did that. I started crying and said, "I don't know." I guess they forgot about me complaining about Loyd's behavior earlier.
For whatever reason, a decision was made not to take Loyd to the emergency room. Pand just advised Mom and Dad not to let Loyd go to sleep for awhile, or else he might not wake up. Loyd turned out to be okay afterward.
I don't know if Loyd got the message, but he never called me stupid after that. However, I believe it caused him to find more subtle ways to undermine my intelligence. Even to this day, when talking to others in my presence, he will say something regarding my character that makes me look not so bright. Even worse is that he will do that and I might not realize until later that he had just insulted me again. He likely did this on purpose to begin with, but has now been doing it for so long that he just does it without really thinking about it.
Since that incident, no one has ever brought it up again, not even Loyd. I'd be willing to bet that no one remembers anything that transpired before I hit him with the baseball bat, but they'll all remember him getting smacked and how it was my fault. I keep hoping that he'll ask about it, but so far, he hasn't.
Do it yourself Friday video!
I'm not much of a cook, but I love sharing recipes:
Let me know if you try this!
Let me know if you try this!
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