I think I just wanted to doodle a lighthouse this morning.
Many things lit the corners of my mind when I chalked today’s quote.
I thought about the first time I hit a baseball in little league. I thought about the first football helmet that I wore. I thought about the first time I climbed into a trading pit and learned how to arb. I thought about George’s first poopie diaper and the first time I fed him.
Throughout the thought process for this morning’s chalkboard, I kept thinking about the first day at a new school.
Between my parents' divorce, my mom exiling me to Indianapolis and an expulsion…
…I had many opportunities at being the new kid in class.
My mom dragged me down to Indianapolis in the summer before seventh grade. I was the new kid from Chicago. My new classmates had been together since kindergarten and I had to somehow fit in.
I hated my mom for dragging me away from Chicago and my dad. No matter how hard my mom tried to make me feel better, it didn’t work.
About three weeks at Christ the King, I walked into the boys bathroom to pee before school.
Four guys were giving another kid a swirly. Instead of ignoring it and taking my piss, I peered over the top to see what was going on.
Suddenly a teacher came in and busted us. I would have been an innocent bystander if I was standing at the urinal where I was supposed to be.
Unfortunately, I was guilty by association for spectating the event.
Three weeks at my new school and I’m already in the principal’s office.
The principal was a younger nun that wore new nun clothes. I was used to nuns that wore ropes and rosaries hanging from wool blankets and big hats.
I wasn’t scared of a nun that looked like the lady that worked at the Jewels checkout line.
Sister Mary Mini Skirt called the Pastor over and he brought his paddle. Father Feminine had a lispy voice and a prance to his step. I was used to Irish priests with a brogue and hands the size of Yogi Berra’s mitt.
I wasn’t scared of a Priest that looked like one of the Village People.
Father Fruitcake had a paddle with holes drilled through it for an aerodynamic landing sure to leave a sting to your ass cheeks.
I decided to volunteer for the first punishment. I shouldn’t even be in the principal’s office. I shouldn’t have been in Indianapolis in the first place.
On the second swing, Father Fruitcakes paddle shattered as it smashed into the Shepley butt.
The other guys just realized that they weren’t getting paddled that day. Those Hoosier punks have been my friends ever since.
I went home that day and told my Ma that I met some new friends. They all talked funny and combed their hair weird. They still talk funny and have weird haircuts, but those Christ the King boys are solid men. I don’t see them often, but when I do, I’m surrounded with friendship.
It took me years to forgive my mom for dragging me away from home. I would never have built a close relationship with my Gramma or have all of my Indiana friends. Friends to this day.
So thanks Ma
Go get some sun on your face and enjoy the day.
Be the beacon
