You know how sometimes, a long-forgotten memory will make its way to the surface for no apparent reason? All of a sudden, the scene is playing in your mind – like a film projector on an old bed sheet, nostalgic home video remembrances of life before you knew the things you know now.
The other day, that was happening for me. I was seeing our Dalmatian, Princess, and games on what must have been the original Apple computer, and Otter Pops from the freezer in the garage, and the orange tree in our old backyard, and trips to the Dairy Queen on our bikes, and summer nights in the backyard, and getting beaten up by the deaf girl in 1st grade…
WAIT A SECOND.
It totally threw a wrench in my gears, a hitch in my giddy-up. I was beaten up? In 1st grade? By the deaf girl?
(Let it be known that these days, I would absolutely, 100% use the term “hearing impaired.” But remember, I am being transported back to 1989, when I didn’t know anything about being politically correct. I also didn’t know that you shouldn’t swallow toothpaste – but I digress.)
The last time I checked, I do not have multiple personalities… yet… and so I’m not quite sure how this memory got repressed for all these years only to surface two decades later. But just like that, in the middle of my work-day, I was transported back to recess in 1st grade, on the playground at Oster Elementary, scared every single day that the deaf girl from 2nd grade was going to beat me up again.
She had pigtails. She had hearing aids. And she had it out for me.
I never got up the nerve to tell anyone. I just went on being afraid every day. And I don’t know that I’ve ever been so relieved as the day when a playground aid caught the little shrew in the act, and made sure she never touched me again.
Hey, if I was forced to re-live this story, then you can be sure that I would subject you to it, too. What else is a blog audience for?
And two more nubbins:
- I fly to Seattle tonight.
- My East Nasty of the Week column will be resurrected next week.