As I have made clear, I will be jumping, on occasion, from ALS to the days of old, weaving through a number of experiences that have made me who I was before the disease. I'm still the same guy, I just don't want ALS to think it's the result of ANY lifestyle, especially mine. I would give credit where due- in this case, none has been found, none shall be awarded.
Third grade, spring time, I think Minneapolis. My dad running McDonald's there with a guy named Pat Bauden. I doubt he reads my blog, I haven't seen him or his family for 44 years. I do remember he had several kids and an above ground pool teeming with reptiles and amphibians. Anyway, the job was short lived. Why do I bring this up? Because while there, while living near railroad tracks and near a five and dime where you could get wax lips, and where the kids played on and around the tracks and where kids, me included, put all kinds of stuff on the tracks to get squished, I actually climbed a ladder to a boxcar on a moving train- a slow moving train- sat in the open car with my friends and jumped off in a nearby freight yard. Yes, this is true. I also learned how to produce and project the perfect spit wad. For a while, evidence of my prowess could be found on the ceiling over my desk at school. Other than the spit wads, I have no recollection of my classroom other than the memory that it was on the second floor and had big windows.
Take a close look at your third graders and try to imagine them hopping a freight, even a very slow moving freight. I have raised three kids who were all third graders at one time and I can't fathom it. I must have been an idiot child. I never told my mother. Mom, if you're reading this, you must remember your elevated, bleached, teased beehive hair do. I remember it well. Focus on the memory you have and try not to imagine those you don't. I didn't die and you didn't have to worry. Oh, mom, do you remember the rail car, converted into a small cabin, along with a half dozen others set in a little park? Remember that we lived there a short time? Where I found a salamander? Where we talked about Martin Luther King? I do. It was swell.
Push forward to fourth grade, Glendale Heights, IL. We moved from Minnesota to the Chicago area where my dad picked up a McDonald's job in Maywood. The sixties. Shoulda been named Mayhood. Anyway, we moved into a housing project dominated by Italian Americans (or so I was told), backing up to the back of a small strip shopping center (yes, they had those way back then) dominated by an Alpha Beta (I think) grocery store, a barber (from hell), a coin laundry, a bar and Ben Franklinish store (candy central to us).
I'm going to be brief here- We lived in a townhouse, I owned a 26" 3-speed bike, I got hit by a car on a nearby highway while waiting on the shoulder as my friend delivered newspapers. I didn't get hurt despite flying over the lady's Mustang, bouncing on her hood, the top, off the trunk lid and into the gravel. My bike, however, was bent in half. The lady asked if I was OK, I said yes as I picked up my pathetic bike,......................and she drove away. I carried my sad bike home where my mom read me the riot act. I later spotted the Mustang in the parking lot near the bar and the barber shop, still wearing my scuff marks stem to stern. My mom led me into the bar (she was not the barber) where I identified my hit and run driver. She and my mom negotiated a settlement and we walked home $55 richer. I bought a cool 5-speed.
I'm going to be brief here as well so we can get out of Illinois.....................I attended school,wearing a hat to cover my new crew cut, emblazoned (get used to it, a crew cut can be emblazoned upon a 10 year old) upon me by my evil dad (while the rest of the world had hair), envied a kid named Joey Cambell, who sported a curly black mop on his head and pointy Beatles shoes. I also learned that my knowledge of geography exceeded that of my teacher, Mrs. Wright, which put me in the dog house for arguing that the Mississippi river was NOT the world's longest, even when I offered to accept either the Nile or the Amazon. She would have none of that, so she sent me to the principal for a swat, where I learned there was a teacher shortage and was told to be patient and let things slide. Remember? I was in fourth grade! Little did I know that this would be the least of the peculiarities I would have to endure before the year ended. Soon we all got in the car and headed to California.........to be continued...............................
Third grade, spring time, I think Minneapolis. My dad running McDonald's there with a guy named Pat Bauden. I doubt he reads my blog, I haven't seen him or his family for 44 years. I do remember he had several kids and an above ground pool teeming with reptiles and amphibians. Anyway, the job was short lived. Why do I bring this up? Because while there, while living near railroad tracks and near a five and dime where you could get wax lips, and where the kids played on and around the tracks and where kids, me included, put all kinds of stuff on the tracks to get squished, I actually climbed a ladder to a boxcar on a moving train- a slow moving train- sat in the open car with my friends and jumped off in a nearby freight yard. Yes, this is true. I also learned how to produce and project the perfect spit wad. For a while, evidence of my prowess could be found on the ceiling over my desk at school. Other than the spit wads, I have no recollection of my classroom other than the memory that it was on the second floor and had big windows.
Take a close look at your third graders and try to imagine them hopping a freight, even a very slow moving freight. I have raised three kids who were all third graders at one time and I can't fathom it. I must have been an idiot child. I never told my mother. Mom, if you're reading this, you must remember your elevated, bleached, teased beehive hair do. I remember it well. Focus on the memory you have and try not to imagine those you don't. I didn't die and you didn't have to worry. Oh, mom, do you remember the rail car, converted into a small cabin, along with a half dozen others set in a little park? Remember that we lived there a short time? Where I found a salamander? Where we talked about Martin Luther King? I do. It was swell.
Push forward to fourth grade, Glendale Heights, IL. We moved from Minnesota to the Chicago area where my dad picked up a McDonald's job in Maywood. The sixties. Shoulda been named Mayhood. Anyway, we moved into a housing project dominated by Italian Americans (or so I was told), backing up to the back of a small strip shopping center (yes, they had those way back then) dominated by an Alpha Beta (I think) grocery store, a barber (from hell), a coin laundry, a bar and Ben Franklinish store (candy central to us).
I'm going to be brief here- We lived in a townhouse, I owned a 26" 3-speed bike, I got hit by a car on a nearby highway while waiting on the shoulder as my friend delivered newspapers. I didn't get hurt despite flying over the lady's Mustang, bouncing on her hood, the top, off the trunk lid and into the gravel. My bike, however, was bent in half. The lady asked if I was OK, I said yes as I picked up my pathetic bike,......................and she drove away. I carried my sad bike home where my mom read me the riot act. I later spotted the Mustang in the parking lot near the bar and the barber shop, still wearing my scuff marks stem to stern. My mom led me into the bar (she was not the barber) where I identified my hit and run driver. She and my mom negotiated a settlement and we walked home $55 richer. I bought a cool 5-speed.
I'm going to be brief here as well so we can get out of Illinois.....................I attended school,wearing a hat to cover my new crew cut, emblazoned (get used to it, a crew cut can be emblazoned upon a 10 year old) upon me by my evil dad (while the rest of the world had hair), envied a kid named Joey Cambell, who sported a curly black mop on his head and pointy Beatles shoes. I also learned that my knowledge of geography exceeded that of my teacher, Mrs. Wright, which put me in the dog house for arguing that the Mississippi river was NOT the world's longest, even when I offered to accept either the Nile or the Amazon. She would have none of that, so she sent me to the principal for a swat, where I learned there was a teacher shortage and was told to be patient and let things slide. Remember? I was in fourth grade! Little did I know that this would be the least of the peculiarities I would have to endure before the year ended. Soon we all got in the car and headed to California.........to be continued...............................
How does this prove your Evil Kenevil stunts aren't related to ALS? I kinda think it's the opposite. You have WAY too many for it not to have some effect. I'm just sayin...
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