Part 3

Back to Austin…

Since it's still Mothers Day, I did want to mention a few extra words about my Mom. My mother was like some sort of movie star to me. My Father thought he was a movie star and often related to Errol Flynn and himself as kindred swashbucklers. My mother had inherited all sorts of tricks from my Grandmother. And she was the one with the true flare for drama and was very skillful in her acting abilities. She knew how to draw the truth out of anyone with just a look. One of the things I recalled from Austin was once getting busted about to do something which I can’t recall, but she called out MICHAEL! And I instantly stopped in fear and awe, wondering how she could have seen me up to some sort of shenanigan. Of course upon inquiring I got the ole adage of I have eyes in the back of my head. Where we as kids would often inspect deep into her hair and upon her scalp only to be told that she had them closed for the moment and they only opened when she needed them. Year’s later, after we had arrived in Phoenix to live and I was visiting for lunch. I asked how she knew about certain things and was always busting us around the house. She then revealed her secret Mother command post secrets. She said see that picture; and said that’s how. She pointed to family picture that went clear back to Austin. I looked and saw nothing and thought she’s just eluding the fact. Then she said no… Look at the reflection in the glass and as I did I could see the entire back yard. Then she said open the hutch door and sure enough you could angle the door and see anywhere in the house if you wanted to. I began to go to each picture with a reflection and suddenly noticed every picture that reflected was strategically placed to view parts of the house from angles where one wouldn’t be seen. She snickered and lifted her eyebrow and if she could have twinkled her nose like Elizabeth Montgomery, she would have. The whole room turned into a completely new perspective that I was completely unaware of all my life. And she had the command post reflections set up even there at our home in Phoenix where we were teenagers. So in honor of her I mention this little memory, May her soul rest in peace. She died at fifty and as I have mentioned before, you don’t really miss your arm until it’s gone and one never really gets quite over it.        

I wandered the creek less and less and that whole world became just a memory. I was content to bottle firefly’s, set up forts and play with my GI Joe’s with the neighborhood kids in the back yard. I came home from school one day to find a huge commotion occurring in the back yard, entrance to the creek. My sisters were sobbing and in the distance I saw my father with a shovel in the air and like superman he whacked the ground as the shovel made wispy sounds through the air. I wandered in closer to see, the water moccasin chopped to pieces. After that I never followed the creek again. I often came across the creek playing with friends but never did I go into the deep like I had done.

I have only one memory from Kindergarten. I was in Mrs. Washington’s class. She was a very kind and loving lady with silver white hair very well styled. We learned everything from her; reading, writing, arithmetic and to tell time. We dressed each day sharply as if we were attending church, tucked in collar shirts with clip on ties. Everyday we had recess and the day in question was the first worst day of my life. I want you know that I did have a good childhood and all though some things lean towards sadness, please realize that in the scheme of things, compared to true horrors that children are facing as we speak, mine are in no way comparison to things I’ve heard about. And as you can tell, I did survive…

Anyhow it was a very brisk morning and the playground was full of shrills and thrills. A regular 50 ring circus of well groomed monkey’s bouncing like ping pong balls from one end of the humongous yard to the other. I remember watching the Sun rise through the trees that day in a solid bright yellow disc with pink and white wispy clouds below it on the bottom of the horizon. I was squinting with my hands over my eyes in a salute to the band new day. I was alone in the crowd and all the racket was shoved to the back of my head as I shivered and watched my snowy white breath blow from our mouths like the tiny dragons that we were. The moment of silent clamor ended when my little buddy George called out my name... “HEY MIKE!” I turned towards the call and there was George chasing this little vixen. I frowned with a half grimace like what? They darted about in a small circle until he had Goldy Locks by the hair and he reached up her skirt grabbing her panties and then quickly using the other hand pulling in opposite direction lifted her dress over her head and exposed her private slick lily towards me as he turned his head making eye contact, with both brows lifted with the look of seeking approval EHH? The poor little girl took both hands and magnificently brought her dress back down smacking George in the process, where he then just merrily danced away. Problem was when the dress came down, the little Lady caught me in a scoffing snicker as I was just accosted by some sort of erotically naughty slapstick comedy on the play ground of all places. Our eyes met and her mouth turned from the open O of surprise to a stiff upper lip. And like being in the path of a charging Bull she started straight for me. I was like Huh? Me? What I do but laugh. I only had two choices and like anyone, the natural reaction is to turn and run from someone charging you. I felt her hands swipe the back of my head as I caught some traction in my sudden skedaddle. We ran and ran and she wouldn’t give up. I took every sharp corner I could find. I ran around trees and monkey bars and she was always there hot on my trial. She was in total control of the chase and I couldn’t shake her off my tail. She drove me straight out onto the football field and we ran full blast. My heart was pounding out of my chest and each time I looked over my shoulder out the corner of my eye, there was her hand. It got so bad on my end of it that I stopped watching where I was going until suddenly she was just gone. I laughed to myself thinking, I wonder how long I was running by myself. Then this small voice of some boy I just passed as I steadily slowed down, said in a rather calm mono tone. “Look out for the water.” At that very moment I stopped my feet, but I didn’t stop moving. I precariously found myself hydroplaning across the wet grass. I was so close to stopping and walking away from the scene uninjured until the ground dropped an inch or two and down I went flat on my arse skiing right through the deepest end of the puddle. I finally came to a screeching halt and who of all people was at the waters edge. No, it was George laughing at me hysterically. He reached out his hand to help lift me from the bog and made this final statement. “Well I don’t think my sister likes you anymore!” I was embarrassingly soaked clean through to my chilly shivering Butt. Then I turned and looked and there was sweaty little Goldy Locks who promptly said. “Serves you right!” George just kept talking patting me on the back going over the chase play by play like some sort of sports commentator. We finally hit the black top as the recess bell rang and all the children gathered to get in lines to march back to class. However, you guessed it: I had to endure the march of shame as all the kids began to chant. “You wet your pants…You wet your pa-ants…You wet your pa-ants!” All the while George did the squirming legged scarecrow dance about me, holding his stomach and pointing in uncontrollable laughter, and all the while he knew the truth. And then to add to the insult as I came before the beautiful young woman class attendant that checked off the kids names. She looked me up and down and at my crouch and asked with her stern eyebrow lifted. “Did you wet your pants?” I then shouted my announcement to the whole school. “No…I FELL IN A PUDDLE!” And everyone responded in an uproarious gleeful laughter. I hid myself as best as I could beneath my desk sulking and dreading to ever move again. The day ended at noon and I walked squeaking towards the parking lot still drenched. And there she was Goldy Locks shining brightly silhouetted at the end of the hall waiting for me at the doorway. I was expecting her to say her final cut and plunge her dagger in deep. But she just smiled and batted her eyes at me with a tiny twinkle as if I had seen a part of her that no one else had. Finally to add injury, there he was; my father who squealed up and stopped flinging the car door open and made a cop hand motion command. “Get In.”

“Where’s Mom?” I asked and he responded sternly with. “Did you wet your, pants?”

I really loved and hated George and I don’t remember ever seeing or hearing about his sister again. I wasn’t into girls that much. And I have no other memory of Kindergarten in Mrs. Washington’s class other than this and her constantly writing stuff on the chalk board.

Mother in Germany

ZeeArcTune©2006

Allow Me 2 Introduce Myself Post

My Life As I Remember It

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