Childhood (Part ?)

I have a few drafts of posts I've been working on that I just can't seem to complete.  If you haven't figured out my writing style yet, I basically spew out whatever is in my head whether it is on topic or not.  Sometimes these rants go so far off course that I am unable to steer them back to effectively wrap up the post.  It's like taking a space walk and looking back to notice Cadet Duffney cut your tether.  You're not rocketing out of control, but instead slowly wandering farther and farther away from home.  It's not worth struggling.  You just have to forget about it for a bit and hope some sort of rescue comes along.

I have recently rescued several posts that were "lost in space".  Some, like the one below, have been dangling in the emptiness of the internet for years.  I hope this recovery mission was worth the effort.

How many times do I have to kick this mailbox before the voices stop??

I don't remember exactly when it happened.  I recall wearing a leather jacket, but there was no snow on the ground, so I'm thinking it was late winter / early spring.  We were attending an academic competition in high school, and I recall older students going with us, so it was probably junior year.  In fact, now that I begin telling this story, I am amazed at how much I really don't remember from my past.  I know it was an engineering type event, and there were several competitions.  I participated in the drafting portion where I believe I scored second place.  Whether that was 2nd in the state, in a division consisting of 15 year old male students named Chris who were born in August, or out of the two people who entered, I don't know.  My victories in life are sometimes best celebrated when certain details are left out.  That might explain my selective memory and sometimes inflated sense of self worth.

I grew up in the suburbs outside of Springfield.  At the time, there was very little to do downtown, so our visits there were few and far between.  I had never been to any larger cities, so this trip to Toledo was new and exciting.  In between events we found ourselves walking around the downtown hotel with little to no supervision.  I recall taking the elevator to the top floor where there was an indoor pool, sauna, and bar/restaurant overlooking the river.  We ventured around the block where we stopped in a little bookstore before grabbing some lunch at Subway.  This was my first experience with the restaurant, way back when Jared was still an unknown fat guy (and on a similar note, way back when I was an unknown not-so-fat guy!).

My friend Raymond and I had run back to the van that was in the parking garage across from the hotel.  I had probably forgot my HB pencils and t-square for the drafting competition.  Outside of the parking garage was a shelter/bus stop.  As we walked out of the garage and through the bus stop, we saw a, for lack of a better term, sasquatch kicking the crap out of a newspaper box.  He was mumbling something (probably expressing his sadness at the news of Arthur Ashe's recent announcement) and seemed to be in his own world, oblivious to the two boys passing through.  I remember thinking "Man, what is his problem?" as we walked out of the doors.  Thinking back later on, I believe I actually said that out loud, because as we were crossing N. St. Clair Street and Jefferson Avenue, I felt two large hand slam down on my shoulders.

A 15 year old in a big city for the first time, I really didn't need to assess the situation.  I had a pretty good idea this was not the welcoming committee.  It was obviously our disgruntled friend who wanted to discuss some of his issues with me.  As he clinched the shoulders of my jacket, I slipped out of the coat, fell to the pavement, picked myself up and took off running.  I knew all about people living the inner city life and their desire for poor quality, mom-buy-this-for-me-because-the-other-kids-wear-leather, $40 on sale at J.C. Penny's jackets.  In a split second, the choice to give up that small portion of my social status for my life was easily made.

I have never been very athletic, but I'm pretty sure my performance that day would have put Usain Bolt to shame.  When I felt I had provided a safe distance between us, I looked back.  It's not like I expected to see him trying it on, glancing in the warped Plexiglas of the bus stop windows as he turned to check the fit, but I assumed he would at least be checking the pockets or running into an alley with in.  To my shock, he simply threw it down in the middle of the road and walked away.  All that commotion, my jammed left hand pinky throbbing, my heart racing, and for what?

I will never know what was going through that guy's mind that day.  Was he mentally unstable?  On drugs? Alan Thicke?  Maybe it was some sort of scared straight program to teach kids how nice it is to live in the suburbs.  If that's the case, it worked.  I never returned to Toledo after that.  That is until this past weekend when we went to cheer on my wife in the Glass City Marathon.  And where did my father-in-law decide would be the best place to stay overnight?  On the same block that this all happened 20 years prior.  It wasn't as frightening this time, and I made it out without incident.

So what did I learn?  1) NEVER speak up in public.  2) Always leave your jacket unzipped for quick escapes  3) There's a reason you don't see brochures for downtown Toledo, and 4)  My clothes were so horrible in high school that even bums wouldn't want them!