Billy Marrin, awoke early on September 2 a Monday with the sad felling of knowing the summer of 1963 had passed by to quickly and another school year was about to open up new adventures. An aroma of a pancake and sausage breakfast filtered to his room triggering his stomach to awaken his hunger senses with anticipation of total satisfaction upon tasting some of moms great cooking. Hurriedly dressing himself in the fashion statement laid out the night before in a style of his mothers likening, he ran down the 13 steps to the hallway leading to the kitchen. Jumping over the brown Labrador dog named sugar who moved for no one, and sliding on the white and black squared linoleum floor turning backwards setting up a perfect landing on a chrome laden Kitchen chair. A shoveling like display of motion quickly began emptying a plate containing lovingly cut pancakes and sausages topped with syrup and butter and only were interrupted by an occasional time out for a breath and a drink of milk. Ignoring all pleas to slow down Billy downed the meal in no time leaving his mother to admire the perfect 10 score for meal value designated by the fallen pieces now being wiped off his chin with use of his shirt sleeve. Despite all arguments for shirt replacement and dental requirements which needed to be fulfilled all talking fell on deaf ears as he raced to the garage jumping on his metallic blue 20 inch stingray model bike.. The only one sporting a customized red and black striped banana seat displaying my artistic flair for design accented with the use of half used cans of old paint found in the garage. As I started to pedal the familiar feeling of my 5foot 8inc 100 pound body frame was way to big for the 20 inch ground clearance allowed which was mine until a new one magically appeared as a birthday or Christmas present.
As billy rode past the neighborhood houses as they replayed memories of summer past each telling a different eventful tale , some good some bad some a lesson learned but all now to be taken away by home work and dumb plays, and the dreaded parent teacher conferences. Yet one more go around a last hurrah for summer seemed the only way to lay them to rest with the fun filled ones lasting forever and the bad ones forgotten fast. Rideing quickly for his ultimate goal was to be the first one to lock his bike into the silver painted bike rack only 5 blocks away. The green painted house of Mrs. Jacobs caught his eye jarring the thoughts of a lesson learned summer experience. Mrs. Jacob s had hired me to paint both sides of her chain link fence which stood six feet high starting from the front of house running the length of the backyard and ending at the alley entrance of the gorge Equipped with a 6 inch paint brush and a can of silver paint which had the constancy of a can of water, and under a well defined set of orders on what not to do a paying job was well under way. Dollar signs overshadowed any required physical ability and patience needed to complete a job with the finished product being done in a paint professional manner. Also a factor overlooked was a weather report which called for a 80 degree sunshine filled day making me think my money making decision was not the right one. Ready set go, staring seemed so easy slap on the paint and get paid ,all was well until Mrs. James the next door neighbor came a running with cane in hand yelling my flowers my flowers your ruining my flowers don't paint no more! Looking down drips of silver paint had now highlighted the white and red roses which lay along the entire fence line planted with and cared for with great love and pride by someone who reminded me of my grandmother. Well oops would not get me out of this one the final result was for me to work for free for both Mrs. Jacobs and Mrs. James until all money spent on flower replacement and rehiring of fence painters was paid off. A lesson learned painting fences in summer for money is cool not covering flowers breaks a painting golden rule. Leave painting for people that know how to. Moral of story don't bite off more than you can chew
Riding faster than before the goal of being first at school seemed to be taking forever after recalling the lesson learned experience which in reality took up one block in biking distance leaving four left to achieve self heralded glory, Nothing could sway the determination of Billy for the focus on the prize now blocked out any chance of more distractions, until the spotting of the dreaded 1961 yellow right front bumper black paint scratched Chevrolet. T he car itself had no memories for bill but the family who owned it well not the entire family , just Butch Mcafferty who's first name is still a mystery , left a memory which still leaves a bad summer memory. Butch was the bully of the neighborhood mainly because of his physical presence of weighing 20 pounds more than the average boy and his long red hair of shoulder length , chubby freckled face, and constant worn snarl spelled doom to all who challenged.. This tale begins at Wrigley Field seats located in the upper deck along the right field lines almost even with first base but 20 rows up from the rail seats the best ones for a perfect view of the famous baseball field. My father a super cub fan and I where watching a familiar display of another cub defeat offset by the always fan favorite ballpark franks cracker jacks and chocolate and vanilla ice cream cup all washed down with the Famous ice melted warm coke. A ready to go home attitude set in as the score board listed the facts st. Louis 10 cubs 2 bottom of the ninth 2 0uts 2 strikes on number 12. When a one in a million happening made the trip an exciting worth while experience. A foul ball off the bat of number 12 came whistle ling towards us and I made a fantastic one hand grab catching it in the webbing of my sears sports department, wille mays autographed glove. Well ok I didn't make a fantastic catch the ball hit two rows behind us and my father climbed over two empty rows seats hey it's the cubs of 63 and handed me the official rawlings professional baseball. Wow the excitement of owning a ball used in a major league game lifted my spirits to the point of me visualizing myself pitching in the pros. As I waived my most prized possession over my head showing everyone what a feeling they where missing and knowing playing catch with my dad crouching down as a catcher visualizing Wrigley field in the background would soon come true in my front yard Practicing pitching technique in the front seat of the car visualizing striking out every batter all the way home, thinking I had all the pitches necessary to take the cubs to a world championship. Finally home after sitting in traffic for which seemed an eternity i slammed the car door open running to the front yard and immediately started Yelling for my dad to hurry up as the excitement was all to much for me to handle. No sooner was dad in range of my throwing ability, my best fastball without warning nailed him in the chest causing a series of expletives not intended for a boy of my age to hear. There stood my dad laughing now forgiving my actions knowing the excitement running through my body had to be released by a need to feel like a superstar as a major league pitcher. The only way this feeling of greatness could come to a halt was soon to be put into action, for the whole time of catching and pitching we were under the scrutiny of one butch mcafeerty. Looking intimidating sitting on his bike across the street the fatal words of enticement came blurting out aimed directly at me YOU KNOW BILLY YOUR DAD THROWS AND CATCHES LIKE A GIRL! The echoing sound ran through my mind triggering a rage towards someone knocking my hero my dad , who allowed me to go on a journey of thinking I was good enough to become a pro pitcher if only for a few hours would have to pay some dues. Running blindly towards a insurmountable goal of winning a fight against the 20 more pound bully taking my best shot at knocking him down fell short when one punch from butch left me with a red soon to be black eye. Now totally defeated walking back towards my hero knowing I had failed was met with the words GET INTO THE HOUSE RIGHT NOW MISTER I WILL TALK TO YOU IN THERE. After sitting in the living room chair sulking over the recent events my father walked in crouched down to eye level asking how much pain I was experiencing and called for mom to bring an ice pack for my eye. After a few minutes I felt better but what came next I didn't expect. As my father was pointing out his reason for not tolerating anyone to partake in fighting he gave me three more why not reasons across my but making it hurt and turning it red. Bad ending to a good summer day yes it was but the moral of the story: bullies teach lessons by giving black eyes in fights fathers give lessons giving red buts for lessons about life.
The lapse of time taken for the recall of any event for a young boy in medical terms could be just a few seconds but in my case was measured in how many blocks were left before a successful arrival at school. Finally the school became insight revealing a statue of Abraham Lincoln standing tall in front of the entrance designating one more block to victory for a first one to arrive. Riding my bike standing on the pedals to achieve maximum power the bike rack was now attainable in a matter of a minute and heightened a needed good feeling anticipating being number one arrived on the first day. A painful image was now appearing a bicycle already locked in the rack but this was not possible I had left early enough for a first place finish. Upon closer inspection a 26 inch red schwin bike with white handle grips sporting red and white plastic streamers. Also a pink flowered basket strapped to the handle bars and the seat to fork bar was missing making all signs lead to the fact I was skunked again and by a girl no less. Well a second place finish deflated a cant wait to get their mood into a self pitying why me attitude which definitely would hang around all day Bike locked in place walking up the front steps to the entrance my mind now shifted to who and what kind of rules my teacher would put in place to keep us in line during classroom time and assignments of home work limiting all personal fun time to a few hours a day. Opening the newly blue painted entrance door made me look back one more time knowing once shut summer vacation had officially ended leaving all day fun a faded memory. Entering the hallway crepe paper streamers of school colors blue and gold draped a sign welcoming back students in bold black letters printed on a white background cardboard board. leaving no doubt school officially was now in session. Walking past room one the kindergarten room, I quickly looked for the large cork board displaying typewritten sheets of paper designating the room numbers each student had been assigned reading the names of all new classmates. Noticing my room number was 208 made me realize this would be the first year for me to have to use stairs to reach my classroom giving me a feeling of superiority over all those now called little kids of the first floor. Walking up the 20 stairs gave me time to adjust my body language. to a chest out stomach in head up slow walking coolness swagger needed to become a true upperclassman. A quick swipe across my crew cut hair and a pickup on the waist line of my pants and the most awesome confident and best looking student ever to make the transition between education levels had just been born. Head up glowing with pride feeling good now gliding across the heavily waxed tile floor a sudden appearance of a man who seemingly blocked out the sight of the classroom door made my body shiver and a sudden feeling of fear took over my thoughts. In a booming low toned voice the tall imposing mountain of a man while extending his right arm motioning with his index finger reeling me in as if a fish on a hook. Stated THERE IS ONLY ONE SEVENTH GRADE THIS YEAR ALL OF YOU ARE IN MY CLASS WELCOME TO THE LIONS DEN Who is this guy and what is a lions den, ? Questions which need answer right now. Then like a bolt of lighting the answers came to me, John smikeers a eight grader who we played with all summer told us of the horrifying tales of a teacher named simply Mr.K . A big man who strictly graded with the policy of a no curve system staying strictly within the ten point a to f ranking and held no prisoners in classroom discipline. As if that where bad enough punishments for failure in a subject or classroom misbehavior called for you to write out all multiplication tables 1 thru 12 inclusive as many as 10 times each making your writing hand cramp up to a. tear producing pain. Also he didn't follow the standard of seating students in alphabetical order but by grade level achieved smart students in front average people in the middle and aback row desk already reserved for me. A shock wave of terror traveled rapidly from head to foot leaving me in a total state of disbelieve asking myself why me this cant be my faith for the entire year I need more time to adjust to this situation. My only hope for now was to grab a window seat in hope that the outside world would somehow shield me from this disaster and maybe someone passing by could rescue me from the dreaded Mr K.. In a instant my hopes where dashed by a bellowing low toned voice stating he wanted all the girls to sit in the desks near the windows and the boys by the side blackboards which slid open and exposed a series of coat hangers. Now my fate sealed doomed with out any hope of outside contact, and starting to worry about what was next made me start to engineer a plan to escape the wrath of Mr. K if only for one more day.My plan had to be fool proof and so convincing that failure would not be a option, if I could some how make it appear my stomach hurt and fine away to cause a bead of sweat roll down my face adding a feverish look with a touch of red face I am completely out of here and back home.. All these symptoms if played perfectly pointed to the answer I was so desperately seeking getting me, back home right now by fooling the school nurse winning her over with my best acting ability., She calls my house, mom picks me up I am under the covers lying in bed mom granting all my wishes and after little while strong enough to watch all my television shows. Now how to get permission to leave the room and put the first step of a masterfully conceived flawless scheme in action setting up step two the nurse's office. First thought was the old fashion way by raising my hand asking for permission from the teacher but a denial for such a request would certainly follow stopping me dead my tracks. The only choice I had which would soon be called by all witnesses as a sprint for freedom was simply run to a open classroom door yelling I am sick and hope my sprinting abilities kept me ahead of a sure to be following angered mountain of a man.in mr k. Heart pounding fear building a now or never frame of mind and motivated by total freedom I exploded off my desk chair head for the open classroom door yelling I am sick entering the hallway putting my plan in action.. Now the race was on never looking back and instead of running a fast paced walk with both arms and legs totally in rhythm was needed giving me the ability of a stealth bomber slipping me under the radar of all classroom teachers heavily trained in picking up any form of hallway movement. Passing by the second floor classrooms down the stairs and turning onto the first floor four more doors and the nurse's office was in reach bringing about phase two of the escape plan. Now with my confidence inflated by the completion of phase one I summoned all my acting skills , which actually where none, to rise to the surface and slip me by the trained medical judgment of school nurse Jean Vance. Opening the door my eyes caught the all white attired nurse , reaching over a stainless steel table stocking a medical cabinet which contained bandages and cotton balls and thermometers all neatly stacked waiting use for any given situation. Quickly grabbing my stomach with one hand and placing the other on my forehead I pictured a Oscar award winning performance was well under way and knew if I could hold my own during questioning home was a phone call away. First question of how can I help you brought my shaky response of not feeling good was responded to by a concerning look with a hint of a held back smile for she had heard this to many times before when the end diagnosis resulted going right back to class. As she led me to a seat on a small stainless steel stool she immediately opened a glass jar pulling out a alcohol soaked thermometer giving it a quick shake before putting it under my tongue which triggered a natural gag reflex making my face turn slightly red adding to my already award winning performance. Now if I could only will the red line of the thermometer to pass beyond the marking qualifying me into fever status a quick relaying of my home phone number and mom is on the way.. Removing a few minute rested thermometer and holding it up to the florescent ceiling light squinting her eyes for the most accurate reading possible a small sigh followed giving no clue of victory or defeat. The next movement made by jean Vance gave me the ultimate complement and a well deserved relaxing moment as she picked up the phone and started dialing binging a concealed smile of victory on mission accomplished.. Well pat yourself on your back and start getting ready to answer all the questions of other classmates who would want the secret plan and all little tips for future escapes from the drab classroom experience Yes I held the answer for missing surprise tests, taking the need to worry about parent teacher conference, missing the chance to play a tree in the dumb school play, I was on top of the world. Ok stamp the legend title on me now for this story will be told over and over again passed down by brothers and sisters and to all who would listen as the greatest fake out of all times. One thing now entered my mind how did nurse jean no my number without asking me or looking it up she surely couldn't know everyone's phone number. My answer came quickly as the door to the office came opening slowly revealing the mountain of a man coming back to claim his lion cub and lead him back to the lions den Nurse jean had simply dialed the principles office ex tension passing on the message of my good heath and my reinstatement back to class was now official. As we walked down the first floor hallway with his arm wrapped around my shoulder in a soft voice which still echoed thru the empty hallway one could here BILLY WE ARE GOING TO HAVE TO WORK ON THE NUMBER ONE CLASSROOM RULE NEVER LEAVE WITHOUT MY PERMISSION
