Fourth grade. I left off after having been hit by a car in Glendale Heights near Chicago, getting a new 5-speed and learning of a teacher shortage. I feel like throwing in a little experience that apparently left a lasting impression since I can remember it as if it were yesterday. My dad must have received a bonus or a raise at some time because he came home one day and declared that he was taking me and my two sisters to Toys R' Us. You must know, we thought Toys R' Us was some whimsical pretend location, a place we would never see. A place where everything was outside our grasp. When dad told us we each got five dollars to spend, we nearly went apoplectic! The mood in the car was insane. We all three jumped, bumped and squirmed so much the car shook. As dad hit the highway, our excitement boiled over into pushing and shoving, overreacting, taking on an ugly tone as calamity filled the back seat. Shouting turned to yelling and my dad blew his top at the height of our cacophony. I learned then that I was a born idiot. The girls clammed up immediately, but I had to defend my position. Dad just wanted us to shut up. I argued with the back of his head not knowing he was about to turn the car around. He said he didn't want to hear my whining, I complained that it wasn't my fault, he yelled at me to knock it off. I kept yapping, defending myself, arguing really. He said "That does it". Somehow I knew I was screwed and I closed my mouth. Too late. Always too late. I later learned that this tendency would become an integral part of my personality, and that I would pass it on to my children. Anyway, dad dropped the bomb on me: Instead of getting to spend five dollars at the toy store, I would only get two dollars. My sisters got five, I got two. I pleaded, I begged, I apologized, I cried, I began to throw a fit but stopped abruptly when my dad said he could make it zero. All this time, my mom was silent. She let dad handle it, which he did, with aplomb.
So, what did I buy with two bucks? This was 1967 or 1968. I'm pretty sure it was a Toys R' Us (that's what I seem to remember) and in those days you could get some neat stuff for two dollars- not as neat as the stuff you could get for five, but I only had two, so................ I bought a Superball and a boomerang. For two dollars, yes, hard to believe, but true. All I can remember my sisters buying was one of those stupid pot holder weaving kits. Probably mom's idea.
We went back home and tore in to our toys. I ran outside with the Superball- the really hard black rubber kind that bounced literally a mile in the air (or so it seemed). The problem with winging a Superball to the pavement is that often you hit a stone and the ball rockets askew and you have to chase it forever. I discovered this within ten minutes. I flung my Superball as hard as I could at the ground, it hit a pebble, it flew sideways and plopped itself into a fenced in sewer treatment lake across the street. Unless they tore the housing project down, I could take you there. That lake was the resting place for anything flung over the fence. I imagine it still is. So I ran back home, hesitated a couple seconds and then tore the cardboard off my boomerang and raced outside again. I ran into a couple kids I knew; they were older than me and usually ignored me (except for the time one of them threw a football at me, which I caught, in my crotch), but when they saw my boomerang, they became my best friends. We soon found out that there is a skill required in getting a boomerang to return, one none of us had, so we treated it more like a Frisbee and played catch, backing up with each rotation. For some reason, possibly at the suggestion of one of the kids (I really don't remember), I was convinced that in order to get the boomerang to come back you had to throw it really hard. So I did, probably hoping to impress my new friends. I made sure to throw it no where near the sewer lake, winging it as hard as I could in the opposite direction. It was a fine throw, elevating and curving in a long arc, looking to swing around and back to me, only to sweep high and fast directly into the stupid lake. It never had a chance. I never had a chance. Either Karma or my dad or fate or Karma (did I say Karma?) dictated my day. Not knowing who to hate, I think I hated Toys R' Us. My two friends laughed really hard and went on their way.
Next time I post history, you'll learn of my short but ridiculous experience at Tweedy School in California. Lucky you.
So, what did I buy with two bucks? This was 1967 or 1968. I'm pretty sure it was a Toys R' Us (that's what I seem to remember) and in those days you could get some neat stuff for two dollars- not as neat as the stuff you could get for five, but I only had two, so................ I bought a Superball and a boomerang. For two dollars, yes, hard to believe, but true. All I can remember my sisters buying was one of those stupid pot holder weaving kits. Probably mom's idea.
We went back home and tore in to our toys. I ran outside with the Superball- the really hard black rubber kind that bounced literally a mile in the air (or so it seemed). The problem with winging a Superball to the pavement is that often you hit a stone and the ball rockets askew and you have to chase it forever. I discovered this within ten minutes. I flung my Superball as hard as I could at the ground, it hit a pebble, it flew sideways and plopped itself into a fenced in sewer treatment lake across the street. Unless they tore the housing project down, I could take you there. That lake was the resting place for anything flung over the fence. I imagine it still is. So I ran back home, hesitated a couple seconds and then tore the cardboard off my boomerang and raced outside again. I ran into a couple kids I knew; they were older than me and usually ignored me (except for the time one of them threw a football at me, which I caught, in my crotch), but when they saw my boomerang, they became my best friends. We soon found out that there is a skill required in getting a boomerang to return, one none of us had, so we treated it more like a Frisbee and played catch, backing up with each rotation. For some reason, possibly at the suggestion of one of the kids (I really don't remember), I was convinced that in order to get the boomerang to come back you had to throw it really hard. So I did, probably hoping to impress my new friends. I made sure to throw it no where near the sewer lake, winging it as hard as I could in the opposite direction. It was a fine throw, elevating and curving in a long arc, looking to swing around and back to me, only to sweep high and fast directly into the stupid lake. It never had a chance. I never had a chance. Either Karma or my dad or fate or Karma (did I say Karma?) dictated my day. Not knowing who to hate, I think I hated Toys R' Us. My two friends laughed really hard and went on their way.
Next time I post history, you'll learn of my short but ridiculous experience at Tweedy School in California. Lucky you.
You're lucky - we got the belt or a stick or some angry hand slapping back at us to make us shut up. Seems like you got the milder years and when he got to us there was zero tolerance anymore. Trying to imagine Dad having that level of reasoning just makes me laugh.
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