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| Yes, I know where babies come from, they come from this old hospital, which was re-purposed to a city center. The musician Jewel Kilcher was born in the same hospital on the same day. Coincidence? No. |
I
went back to school in the third grade and had to try and fit back in
like I was a new kid. I was a goofy kid who had clothes from a
thrift store and I was a terrible athlete to boot. Unfortunately for me few 3rd
grade friendships are based on how good someone is at math and
science. There are few friendships based on
that, period.
Recess consisted of me misunderstanding social signals and trying to include myself where I was not wanted and either being awkward or inadvertently starting a fight. As you may recall, I was a veritable 7th level black belt in nerd karate. There are major differences in the practicality of pretend nerd karate and real fighting ability. The main difference being that fake nerd karate is useless in a fight that is not in your imagination, or versus much younger kids. Armed with my ineffectual fighting skills one day I decided to beat up an Italian kid who we called Tommy Tomato.
We called him that because we couldn't pronounce his last name which sounded a little bit like tomato. Why did he need a beat down? Because he insulted my mother's honor. He told me at recess that my mom and dad had ESS-E-EX and that is how I was born. If there was one thing I knew for a fact at eight years old was that sex was naughty and I knew for certain my dear mother was no dirty sex-haver. I attacked Tommy with all my nerd fury and got a bloody nose and he ripped my shirt.
When we came in from recess all bloody and muddy the teacher took us aside and asked each of us our story. At first I was not going to tell her the cause so as not to embarrass myself and further besmirch the name of my sainted mother. When she told me she would have to call my parents if I didn't tell, I cracked and told her the whole story. I had to literally spell out the accusation that started the fight because I couldn't say 'sex'. When I told her what Tommy had accused my mother of, she smiled and covered her mouth to suppress a giggle. I was furious. She thinks some kid calling my mom a sex-haver is some kind of funny joke?
She got the class settled in and then took Tommy and I to the principal's office. Tommy went in first while I sat on the couch fearing the worst. I didn't know what went on in there, but every kid in the school was terrified of being sent to the principal so it had to be horrible. He was actually a sweet guy who sent Tommy out and called me in. He asked me to tell him my side of the story and when I laid out the provocations that pushed me beyond the brink of my restraint he smiled like he thought it was funny. I was so mad that everyone thought this was some kind of joke that I was boiling inside, but my nerd rage was kept in check by my overwhelming cowardice.
He called my mom to come get me and he talked to her alone in his office for a minute and then we left without me even getting in trouble at all, not from her, not from him. This was not a clean getaway because we went to the Provo library and checked out a video called the 'Miracle of Life'. We went home and my mom put it in the VCR and left me alone while I was introduced to the horrors of childbirth.
I wish she would have given me a softer
introduction than a clinical documentary. You know? Something like,
'When a mommy and daddy love each other very much. . .”.
Not an hour long movie that ends up in a crotch shot of a baby popping out.
Recess consisted of me misunderstanding social signals and trying to include myself where I was not wanted and either being awkward or inadvertently starting a fight. As you may recall, I was a veritable 7th level black belt in nerd karate. There are major differences in the practicality of pretend nerd karate and real fighting ability. The main difference being that fake nerd karate is useless in a fight that is not in your imagination, or versus much younger kids. Armed with my ineffectual fighting skills one day I decided to beat up an Italian kid who we called Tommy Tomato.
We called him that because we couldn't pronounce his last name which sounded a little bit like tomato. Why did he need a beat down? Because he insulted my mother's honor. He told me at recess that my mom and dad had ESS-E-EX and that is how I was born. If there was one thing I knew for a fact at eight years old was that sex was naughty and I knew for certain my dear mother was no dirty sex-haver. I attacked Tommy with all my nerd fury and got a bloody nose and he ripped my shirt.
When we came in from recess all bloody and muddy the teacher took us aside and asked each of us our story. At first I was not going to tell her the cause so as not to embarrass myself and further besmirch the name of my sainted mother. When she told me she would have to call my parents if I didn't tell, I cracked and told her the whole story. I had to literally spell out the accusation that started the fight because I couldn't say 'sex'. When I told her what Tommy had accused my mother of, she smiled and covered her mouth to suppress a giggle. I was furious. She thinks some kid calling my mom a sex-haver is some kind of funny joke?
She got the class settled in and then took Tommy and I to the principal's office. Tommy went in first while I sat on the couch fearing the worst. I didn't know what went on in there, but every kid in the school was terrified of being sent to the principal so it had to be horrible. He was actually a sweet guy who sent Tommy out and called me in. He asked me to tell him my side of the story and when I laid out the provocations that pushed me beyond the brink of my restraint he smiled like he thought it was funny. I was so mad that everyone thought this was some kind of joke that I was boiling inside, but my nerd rage was kept in check by my overwhelming cowardice.
He called my mom to come get me and he talked to her alone in his office for a minute and then we left without me even getting in trouble at all, not from her, not from him. This was not a clean getaway because we went to the Provo library and checked out a video called the 'Miracle of Life'. We went home and my mom put it in the VCR and left me alone while I was introduced to the horrors of childbirth.
Not an hour long movie that ends up in a crotch shot of a baby popping out.
