Stories From Long Ago...

When much younger, I had the arms of a girl.. Hell, I still do. That's genetics for you. My brother and I tried to remedy this according to Ahnult's The Education of a Body Builder. Neither one of us bulked up but I became a skinny yet damned toned teen boy.

So, throughout my childhood, teens and adult life I wasn't about to pick many fights where I still had command of my temper. Charging into some guy who was obviously of greater girth than I met with disaster; or at least a draw.

Temper gives you courage and sometimes it's enough. If you make the other feel the fear more than you, you can win.

*****

Jenks Jr High is where I received my Driver's education from a teacher named Mr. Zajda. It is pronounced, ZA-dyah. You have to leave it to the Polish to have too many consonants in their names. We renamed him Darth Zader, in honor of the Star Wars movie. He was the shop teacher in Jenks that drew from the blue collar neighborhood of Division street next to McCoy. Zader was appointed the Driver's Ed teacher and the class was chock full of kids from Tolman and Shea high school then. I and this kid, Phred, were attending the “posh” St Raphael Academy at the time. Phred and I were the only two from Saints.

I began to notice some ribbing the other kids gave us for attending Saints. The slights aimed at us two were that we had to be rich in order to attend Saints. In plain fact, Phred and I didn't come from wealth at all.

One week, I dragged myself to the Driver's Ed, sick as a dog with some deep seated chest cold and I was plainly miserable. In the beginning of the class, I overheard those remarks about rich Saint's kids that were definitely aimed at Phred and I and I, being miserable and short tempered, answered back.

“You think I'm rich? I said this as snottily as possible. I had had it up to “here” and my sickness wasn't helping my self control.

I lifted up my leg and said, “You see these boots? They're from Thom McAnn...they're NOT Timberland boots!” Timberlands cost $100 in 1980 and were well crafted, if you could afford them.

At the time, I had these busted glasses that I fixed with Scotch Tape (Yes, total geek I was then). I pulled them off, waving them around to the other kids there and said, “You see these? They're NOT new!” “Want to know why I'm wearing busted frames? My Mom is saving up for them. The oil bill is outrageous this month and that comes first!” (Again, it's 1980, when inflation was screaming high)

“Do I look rich to you?"   Again, I said it with the acid of sarcasm dripping off my tongue.

The other kids shot back about “Where do I live?” They were hoping I'd say Blackstone Blvd or something similar. I shifted my body in the chair, pointed east through at the back of the classroom and said:

“About 1/3 of a mile..that way...by York Ave...you know it right? There aren't any mansions up there! Believe me, I don't live in Country Side by the golf course!!”

There was this kid there, in greasy long hair, greasy jeans and who looked like a bad impersonation of some greasy 80's metal band who started asking his friends, 'Where is Country Side?” I overheard this and went right after him.

“You accuse ME of being rich and you don't know where it is? Are you dumb? Do you live in Pawtucket?” You apparently DON'T know where the rich in Pawtucket live...DO YOU?”

This punk gave me the meanest look then.

All during our little verbal fight, Mr Darth Zader was eating this up. He then had to step in and get the class started but you could tell he was enjoying this little argument between me and the Shea and Tolman kids.

When the class ended, I was still ticked. Guys reach that point where they just don't care anymore. I had reached mine. I was sick, pissed off and had no patience for crap then.

The punks were milling around Darth Zader's desk talking when I walk up behind them and ask the whole group, “Is there a problem? Because if there is...I can handle it now.”

Four of the kids disappeared except for Greasy Hair. Darth Zader then arose and immediately pushed Greasy Hair out into the hallway and told him to go home. Greasy Hair was ripping pissed. I overheard him say, “I'm gonna fuck his ass up! I'm gonna kill him!!”

Zader, shoved this kid into the wall telling him he's not going to do anything. The kid finally relented and stormed out of the school. I walk up to Zader and ask him, “Is there going to be a problem? Zader confidently says no to me and packs his briefcase to go home.

Cool. Zader backed me up. He was on my side and I had no idea up until that moment that he was.

Phred and I walked back to his home behind McCoy stadium talking about what happened.

“Shit!” says Phred, “I thought they were all going to nail us!”

I was still in that mood. My probable flu had my chest hurting still and I had NOT an ounce of patience left at all.

“Ahh...between you and me...We could've bloodied some noses...I wanted it to happen.”

A week later, as we huddled in alcove of the Jenks building trying to escape the February wind, the Tolman and Shea girls said to me that, “I was OK, I was cool.” I told them I was just in a rotten mood a week earlier, hence the show I put on. Luckily for me, being sick as a dog and ill mannered, I stood my ground and wrenched some respect out of those kids.

Greasy Hair had bombed out of the class I found out a few minutes later. Good.