Adventures in S.Vincent-hood
Since I have had some trouble coming up with new ideas to talk about, I figure I would steal an idea and tell a story that I remember from childhood. Which you should be thankful for because only 10% of my childhood memories have been retained. Probably due to the bike accident I had in my senior year of high school where my delicate and unblemished coconut smashed the pavement at approximately 20mph in one of the states historical sites, thus leading to the disfigured hamburger that I hide with my hands like an amateur and low budget phantom of the opera. I would tell you more about that accident, but I have none of the details since the story was told to me by 2 nice ladies who happened to drive a pickup truck (YAY LESBIAN SAVIORS!) and dumped me at my house in a bloody concussed heap. That year, my senior yearbook picture was taken from a forgiving distance as to not frighten the young freshman.
I was about 11 I would say and I had off from school for one of those glorious northeast "snow days". This meant sleeping in till 9, eating numerous bowls of cereal and hot cocoa. Being wired, half-assing through whatever "chores" the madre had us do, and then heading out into the powder to see what kind of trouble you could drum up.
You can choose your friends, but you can't choose your neighbors.......
I am the most successful of all the neighborhood kids during my time, and I don't say that arrogantly, I say that in a "I graduated from high school" sort of way. But when you are 11, you have this naive outlook in which everyone is equal. Looking back, I should have stayed in and read more books about white supremacy or "guns and ammo" or witchcraft as they would have been healthier than the influences of the neighborhood kids. However, after many hours spent with these derelicts, I learned how NOT to be a member of an advancing society. Therefore, as long as I do the opposite of them, I would be a great person.
On this particular snow day, after 2 boring games of driveway hockey (played in snow boots on partially shoveled pavement, with a tennis ball) it was decided we needed something that was instantly gratifying. Solution: Snowballs thrown at passing cars.
We lived on a very wooded road so finding adequate cover was no problem. The problem? a car goes by once every hour on this road. We didn't plan for that though. The exhilaration of nailing a moving target with a spherical icy terror was just too scintillating.
Second problem. The anticipation for that moving car resulting in temporary loss of common sense mixed with the lack of common sense of an 11 year old boy. I am surprised I had enough brain power to breathe at this point. Thus we never thought to look at what car was coming down the road, when it meandered along the dangerous bend, we got up and I must say, NEVER was there a finer display of athletic prowess.
A mittened hand, a shoulder packed in 2 sweatshirts and a down jacket, glasses that were under-powered (since my vision got worse by the week in those days) and fogged, a slight crosswind in swirling snow flakes and I nailed the grey Buick skylark dead progressing at 25mph on the driving side windshield and rear window with 2 well packed snowballs at roughly 50 mph.
Joe Montana would have given me a standing ovation.
One problem there Mr. Future Starting Varsity Quarterback.......It was my 60 year old next door neighbor and she was not happy.
And wouldn't you know, she told my mom? Guess whose mailbox got dog turds placed in it for the next seven years.....but that's beside the point.
At that time, I was very impressionable....i.e. gullible. Between her and my mother, I was sure that there was a 50-50 chance that I may have to spend the next week in jail. For real...that's how hard they came down on me with their chastising and warnings. If I knew what a Mormon was in those days, I would have been sure that all the females in the neighborhood had suddenly converted. Instead, I was forced to shovel her driveway for my crimes and asked to be thankful that my right arm had not been removed with each of its fingers sent to all the other neighborhood derelicts.....as a warning.
Somehow, I believe that my bitterness from the outcome of this event led to my leadership role in the great Marist waterballoon scandal of 2001. Over a 2 week period, countless victims perished on their way to dinner in a display of moistened terror the likes of which security and dorm administration had never seen......... But that is another story for another day
SV-TV: I have an un-healthy obsession with Chrissie Hynde----> I would totally take her out for a nice seafood dinner.
