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By the Spring, I was pining to my friends at school how much I wanted
to take my computer to Colorado with me for that Summer's visit.
While I could put the keyboard like computer back into its original
packing box and take it as carry-on luggage, I couldn't very well do
that with the cathode tube monitor. Jonathan perked up and said I
could have a video converter box and use a regular television with
the computer. I could? Yes, the Trash 80 Model I
had been built with all the video logic in the keyboard/computer unit
and sent the resulting picture to a monitor that was nothing more
than a picture tube without a T.V. receiver. Radio Shack sold a kit
box which could convert the computer's video output into a radio
frequency signal that could then be hooked straight to the antenna
inputs of a T.V.. While I wasn't sure about everything he had told
me, the little black & white television from our apartment days
was still in my mother's hands and about the same size as the
Trash-80 monitor, so I asked Jonathan where I could buy that kit? He
said not to worry about it, he enjoyed doing the kits and he would
get it and put it together for me. Really? Great!
The last week of school he brought in the completed box and I asked
him how much I owed him? He said not to worry about it and I thanked
him.
Given this act of kindness as well as all the help my friends had
given me during the variety show, I realized I had truly earned their
respect. It was a great feeling, but at the same time I wanted to
look that gift horse in the mouth and try to figure out why they
respected me...
Was it that I wasn't 'retarded'?
Let face it, that's the thought most people get when they meet a
stutterer, never fairly, but it's there all the same. While people
might have that first impression of me, most figured otherwise once
they got to know me and realized that I was a person like them, just
afflicted with a stutter. For those who didn't get to know me, they
were swayed once my computer programming skills had become apparent
to all my friends; they spread my self-mocking aside that I was 'A
Computer Programming Genius' as a considered truth to the other
students throughout the school, and those students who only knew of
me from my stutter, came to think more of me as that.
Was it my ballsy stunt with the new Principal?
Between our Sophomore year and Junior year of High School, the
original principal had left and our ninth grade English teacher, and
father of the only twins in our school, had been promoted over the
vice principal to become the new man in charge. While we felt a
little bad for the vice principal, we felt better for the English
teacher as he had been a stand-up guy that spoke to us students as
people, rather than as burdens.
Soon after starting to officially
work at the main grocery store, I walked down an aisle to find what
looked like champagne bottles on the top shelf of the juice section.
I was wondering why they would be here rather than with the wine
section and took a closer look. They were actually 'sparkling grape
juice' in wine-like bottles, one variety white and the other red.
Curious, I wondered what it would taste like and picked up a bottle,
and then I remembered something about the plastic cup
area and hatched a plan.
Sneaking the bottle into school, I
told Pete of the idea and he loved it and recommended that we do it
during the study hall period we shared. We stopped by the office and
asked the Principal if he'd have a spare moment then as a number of
us wanted to get together and congratulate him on his new position.
He was tickled and said he would. A few more friends found out about
this and, when the time came, Pete went to get the Principal while
the rest of us went to the cafeteria to set up a table of extra
chairs and a place of honor. We opened up the bag of plastic 'wine
glasses' which came in two halves and started putting them together
as Pete and the Principal arrived.
He sat down a with the group of us,
a smile on his face, and I pulled up the 'wine bottle' wrapped in a
crumpled paper bag that I had kept hidden by my feet. His face went
from a smile to horror as we pulled the bottle out of the bag and
popped the plastic cork. He was likely thinking he'd have
to perform his first mass suspension.
We assured him it was okay as we filled up the 'wine glasses' and
passed them around, then provided the bottle itself to him. As he
read the label and found it was nonalcoholic, relief flooded his face
and then the smile returned with a laugh.
We soaked up this moment of having pulled his leg, then we raised our
glasses and congratulated him. He seemed truly honored.
Was it the bully incident?
Unlike large schools in urban areas where there were enough bully
minded kids that they formed packs, our rural High School just had
the one bully and we had to make do with sharing him as he was
actually a grade ahead of us and he decided his territory was both
his and our grades. You just had to make sure you weren't alone with
him in a room or at the end of a hallway and you were pretty safe.
In the light of day, the most he got out of his bullying was to give
a furtive threat or name call as he walked by outside as we waited
for the buses to arrive. The most common physical act of aggression
he got to do was to try to trip kids as he walked past them in the
hallway. In case any adults were watching, he'd stare straight ahead
as he walked by, when the target was at the right place coming toward
him, he would swing out his next step a little wide and get it on the
inside of the coming kid's ankle, then pull his step in, capturing
the ankle and planting his catch on the floor as he continued his
walk down the hall as if nothing had happened.
While the best technique to avoid this was to move to the other side
of the hall as he passed, this was not always possible when the
hallway was full of other kids. He caught me once, after a couple of
tries and I got my nose planted in the carpet. Thinking over why he
had successfully tripped me that time, but not on his earlier tries,
I realized that his technique didn't work if you twisted your foot to
the outside. For all his next attempts, he'd capture my ankle with
the toe of his shoe, as he'd pull it in, I'd twist my foot to the
outside and his shoe slipped off and we both continued walking as if
nothing had happened. I had gotten so smooth at this trick that I no
longer worried about moving to the other side of the hall when I'd
see him coming and instead we performed this dance. He'd try to trip
me, I wouldn't be tripped, we both lived for another day. I started
to suspect this was probably the most, non-violent, physical contact
he had in his life with anyone, then it occurred to me the same was
true on my side.
One day walking up to my group of friends in the hallway, bully-boy
tried again and for no other reason than boredom of the dance, I
wondered what would happen if I twisted my foot inward instead of
outward? I got my answer as he went down hard and I followed his
example of continuing to face straight ahead as I walked to my
friends. I could see the delight from what had just happened
light-up their faces, some getting off a couple of guffaws; their
reaction matched my feelings while I held the straight face as I
reached them. Expecting to greet them and chat about it, the smiles
disappeared and they all abruptly stepped passed me. Confused, I
turned to see what was up.
The bully had been stunned by his
fall from grace. Somebody had tripped him?
I'm sure he thought. After that
moment laying on the floor in surprise he had gotten up and started
charging for me while I was blissfully unaware, facing my friends.
As the bully was about to reach me, my friends had stepped forward
and made themselves a wall between me and the bully: Pete, Jonathan,
Van, Luke, and Pete's upperclassman friend fearlessly stood between
me and the bully wanting revenge. ''He tripped me!'' he yelled at
them hoping to convince them to let him at me. But they stood their
ground and explained to him that he had tripped each of them in the
past and turn about
was fair play. ''He tripped me?!?'' his second intonation, this
time, was more of a vent of frustration. A teacher drifted over to
ask if anything was wrong. ''Nothing,'' the bully bit out and
stormed away. Apparently the teacher had gathered what had happened
as he had a laugh with us once the moment of danger had gone.
I can never adequately explain the joy I felt at that moment of my
life, not of having landed the bully, but that people had stood up
for me and protected me. Something that I had so rarely experienced
and so wished I could have happen again so I could revive and relive
that moment of bliss.
This filly was a great horse with perfect teeth and I loved it!
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