It was the month of March, and the principal of Edison Elementary announced that we would be having a kite flying contest the next day at recess. This caused immediate excitement among us kids. This was a big deal.
So I went home and told my mom, but there was a problem: My dad was at work and, the thing is, my dad was almost always at work. My dad worked all the time. He was hardly at home at that point in our lives. And mom didn’t drive. So I had no way to get a kite. What’s a boy to do?
Fortunately, I have a great mom.
We found some sticks, mom and me, and we made a kite. A very special kite. It was made out of my moms nylons, pulled over the sticks into a kite shape. And it was amazing. I tried it in the front yard and the thing was like a bird. It wanted to soar. It was extremely light weight and it caught the wind like a miracle . . . and I knew, I KNEW, I was going to win that competition the next day. Who needs one of those dumb store bought kites anyway?
The next morning I got ready for school and I literally had a smile in my heart. I’m not kidding, there’s no better way to describe it. All was right with the world as I got ready and took my kite out the door, headed for the bus stop. When I got there, the other kids weren’t sure what to make of my kite, but when they started to think about it, they realized it could work. I could be the king of the playground. It actually caused a little buzz on the bus as we drove to school.
When we arrived at school, everyone got up to get off the bus. Suddenly, the kids behind me started to push. They were just messing around. They weren’t thinking. It was normal kid stuff, but they pushed so hard that I couldn’t stop it and I fell forward into the kid in front of me, crushing my kite, breaking it into several pieces. It was completely destroyed.
My teacher tried to help me put it back together but it was useless. Nothing was going to fix it. It sat next to my desk, pathetic and hopeless.
I can remember, during recess, looking up in the sky at the other kites, floating above our heads all around the playground. All the colors. The wind moving gently through a perfect blue sky. It was beautiful. Everyone was having a great time.
Well. Almost everyone.
It’s a hard thing to feel joy and happiness passing you by, like a bus going to paradise, and there’s nothing you can do to make it stop and not leave you behind. It is a bitter thing to lose opportunity and hope, then have to stand watching others taste the joy you wished for but cannot have.
Sometimes I don’t know how we survive childhood without losing our minds. Seriously.
Peace to you.
© LW Publishing 2010
Showing posts with label school. Show all posts
Showing posts with label school. Show all posts
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
Monday, February 8, 2010
Football
Sunday night. Everyone watching the Superbowl. Well. Not everyone. I was watching Fringe on DVD. Great stuff. Was the Superbowl super? I hear it usually isn’t.
So, it seems New Orleans won? I was hoping they might. It could do them some good, you know. Even for people who aren’t into sports, there’s just a good feeling that goes with that kind of a win. Makes you feel winning is possible.
I don’t watch football, but I do have experience with it. My wife was a cheerleader for the Michigan Panthers. This was a big deal to my friends. I just liked her. Still do.
I also played drums in high school and university marching band. This meant playing at half time for football games. One year in university we did a gig at halftime at the Pontiac Silverdome on a Thanksgiving. I would have rather been at home with the family, but it was required. So we were standing at the end zone waiting to take the field. For some reason, the door to the locker room opens. Out come some football players. Lions. It was part of the half time festivities. And let me just say, these guys were huge.
HUGE.
There’s no way to describe it, really. It was like Phil Spector’s wall of sound in human form. Tons of human flesh and bone moving past us. The ground shook as they went past. I imagine a herd of buffalo would give off the same sensations. Earth shattering.
Finally, when they were finished with whatever they were doing, they stomped back past us and into the locker room. I think it was the locker room. Who knows. But then the whistle blew. We took the field and played our songs. The horrible acoustics of the Pontiac Silverdome ate every note. It was like playing into the ether. It was pointless.
So why was I missing Thanksgiving with the family?
My only other connection to football, besides playing at football games, was the fact that my locker partner in High School was a football player. He liked being my locker partner because I didn’t use the locker. I kept all my things in the band room. He seemed like a nice guy, but I didn’t really know him.
Yeah. Me and football. We go way back. We are so tight.
Peace to you.
© LW Publishing 2010
So, it seems New Orleans won? I was hoping they might. It could do them some good, you know. Even for people who aren’t into sports, there’s just a good feeling that goes with that kind of a win. Makes you feel winning is possible.
I don’t watch football, but I do have experience with it. My wife was a cheerleader for the Michigan Panthers. This was a big deal to my friends. I just liked her. Still do.
I also played drums in high school and university marching band. This meant playing at half time for football games. One year in university we did a gig at halftime at the Pontiac Silverdome on a Thanksgiving. I would have rather been at home with the family, but it was required. So we were standing at the end zone waiting to take the field. For some reason, the door to the locker room opens. Out come some football players. Lions. It was part of the half time festivities. And let me just say, these guys were huge.
HUGE.
There’s no way to describe it, really. It was like Phil Spector’s wall of sound in human form. Tons of human flesh and bone moving past us. The ground shook as they went past. I imagine a herd of buffalo would give off the same sensations. Earth shattering.
Finally, when they were finished with whatever they were doing, they stomped back past us and into the locker room. I think it was the locker room. Who knows. But then the whistle blew. We took the field and played our songs. The horrible acoustics of the Pontiac Silverdome ate every note. It was like playing into the ether. It was pointless.
So why was I missing Thanksgiving with the family?
My only other connection to football, besides playing at football games, was the fact that my locker partner in High School was a football player. He liked being my locker partner because I didn’t use the locker. I kept all my things in the band room. He seemed like a nice guy, but I didn’t really know him.
Yeah. Me and football. We go way back. We are so tight.
Peace to you.
© LW Publishing 2010
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