Originally published last November I think. Since my life has been so mundane lately, I am offering reruns for your amusement.
I went to Blackhurst Elementary School. In the 4th grade we studied the American Indian culture. They are called Native Americans now. We had a tepee in our classroom, and all kinds of other props. We did arm wrestling and leg wrestling and all kinds of stuff Indians allegedly did. We had an election to see who would be chief. There was a tie between myself and a kid named Mark. We had to Indian leg wrestle to determine who would be chief. No one ever beat me at that.
When I lay down on the floor Mark laid the same way. It doesn’t work that way. So I turned around so it would work, but I would use my left leg. He beat me. I was not chief.
He had a Dad and big brothers.
We built a fort out in the woods behind the school. It had a hatch you jumped through to get in. We pretended to kill Nazis around there, and we would go in there and look at naked girl magazines that someone stole from their Dad or something.
One time when that Mark kid jumped through the hatch, into the fort, he hit his chin on the wood. He almost bit his lower lip off. We all went to his house later to look at him through the picture window. He had a row of stitches where his teeth came through his lower lip.
After we moved to the little white house, I had an accident on my bike.
A girl down the street got a new bicycle, and she was out with her Dad trying it out. It was really big for her. I went riding by on my bike, and I was taunting her about something. She swerved and ran into me. I flew off of my bike and hit my head on the curb. It knocked me out. I think everyone else ran away, like kids do when something bad happens.
I woke up in some bushes in the neighbor’s yard. My Mom took me to the hospital. I had a big spot on my forehead, and one on the back of my hand where the skin was all torn open. The doctor said I had a concussion, and then sent me home.
The spot on my hand left a scar that lasted for many years. It is gone now. I don’t know why I didn’t have a scar on my head.
Someone gave me a slingshot for a birthday or some other occasion. It was a Wrist Rocket. The absolute best, most high tech slingshot of the day. I was out in the front yard with it. A big kid, a teen ager, was walking by. I was shooting a rock at a bird or a phone pole or something. It went right into that kids back, between his shoulder blades. I just stood there. I didn’t run. I don’t know if I claimed it to be an accident. I don’t know if I said anything. He walked back and punched me right in the throat. Then he went on his way. I laid on the ground and cried.
We all had Sears fiberglass bows, and the 3 or 4 arrows they came with. Once we found a pizza box. We took turns shooting an arrow straight up. It would go really high, almost out of sight. Another kid would hold the pizza box out in front of him and try to make the arrow pass through it when it came back down.
That was fun.