One friend of mine and I were walking home when my dad met us at school. He, my father, had taken the day off to come and meet us at grade school. He was in the Volkswagen bus we had and he had hot chocolate, or chocolate milk, and cookies or donuts. He picked us up and drove us home just because. My friend didn’t remember it at all.
One friend of mine and I were at his house and I came up with the great idea to mix water and flour to make makeup. I was trying to go for an undead thing I guess, and that friend remembered that and the fact that his mom got pissed at him for that. That friend remembered and the look on his face said that his mom was pissed for quite some time afterwards, which makes me crazy because she should have called my parents and got me in trouble, but she didn’t.
Another friend, in grade school, had pushed me. Now that seems like quite the innocuous thing, yet I was in a cast from my upper thighs to my ankles because of leg perthes. It’s a disease that causes the ball bone in your hip to disintegrate and grow back. It’s a painful process and for years the medical community at large would do a full hip replacement in children ages seven and above. Now I had it in the days when the hip replacement thing was seriously going out of style, yet it was still around and there was a chance that hip replacement would occur. But I digress, like always I might add. We had been in an argument over some reason and he had said that I was nothing but a cripple and always would be. After that little speech he had pushed me so I had tumbled, as they say, ass over teakettle and I had hit the concrete. I was in karate at the time and had been in pretty good shape, so I jumped up, as far as stiff spread legged jumping went, and I began to slam him against the window of the local grade school. A teacher had come around the corner and had stopped what went down and afterwards I had no trouble with him at all. Later on at the shindig he stated that in his life I was his hero. Since I dealt with everything and made it through my disease with little or no problems it seemed that his problems with his abusive dad and life was lessened and bearable.
At the ten year I was approached by a guy that I used to hang out with in band. He sheepishly told me he was sorry he had “trash canned” me in high school. Now it took me at least an hour to remember the situation, and it went something like this. He and a few friends surrounded me, but since I was reading a book I didn’t notice them until they didn’t get out of my way. I looked up and was irritated that I was interrupted in my reading. So I looked at them, they were slightly tensed and ready to grab at me, so I looked to my left and saw a trashcan. I went, got in it, and asked if they needed anything else. They looked disappointed, said I was no fun, and left. I got out, opened my book again, and continued to class. He needed a response and I laughed and said it was no big deal and if he needed to hear it, his apology was accepted.
Another friend I remembered a costume party at his parents house involving the Lois BBS people from the old days. It was crashed by a group of hardened Mexican males that wanted either to party or to fight someone. I left that time to the sounds of my buddy saying the cops were coming. He remembered me at the Blue Oyster Cult concert that was at what is now the KSBY TV station here in town.
