Envision

What I imagine and what happens in the real life, well, its rarely the same.
Its the difference of a few inches, a few seconds, a mis-timed jump.
In my mind I am magnificent. I have impeccable timing, vastly superior reflexes and inhuman speed.
However I usually become the victim of some vast cosmic conspiracy to stymie my excellence and stupendous athletic ability.
For those of you that don't know me, I am kidding.
Sort of.
See, when I was a kid, younger anyways, I used to try things that were probably a bit above my abilities. Ok, a lot above my abilities.
In my mind however, previous to the actual event, things always went flawlessly.
First time I got on a motorcycle, a little Honda 50 trail bike, I played it over and over in my head. Hop on the bike and roar off with a cloud of awesome wallowing in my wake.
I never for a second thought that I was going to lose control with the first twist of the throttle and ride directly through a fence. A tommy shaped hole in a splendid wooden fence.
Awesomeness.
The first time I tried to balance my way across a single strand of barb wire fence. I had this crystal clear vision of my cat-like balance and quickness running like a ninja across the top of the fence and jumping with a single leap to the top of the playhouse.
I still have the scars on my ass from that one. Three little lines from the top of the chain link fence that stopped my rapid descent to the ground after the barb wire snapped like soggy linguine.
Excellence.
Looking back it surprises me that I did int learn. Actually I'm still surprised that I haven't seemed to have learned yet.
In high school I belonged to a singing and dancing group. The fact that I can neither sing nor dance didn't seem to dampen my hubris. I was the MC and introduced the folks that actually could sing and dance. At the end of our silly little intro I was supposed to calmly walk in and take the mike, introduce the talent and fade off.
I had this great idea though.
Remember the knee slide? I used to see it on MTV and various other forms of mind numbing media. It was so damn cool.
So I had to try it.
Live performance, in front of some community center geriatrics or something. I don't rightly recall. I got a run from offstage and proceeded to power slide on my knees.
In my mind I came to a perfect stop exactly where I needed to be, snatched the mike and to thunderous applause stood to the jaw gaped gaze of the talent.
I slid across the highly polished wooden stage at mach 6 or thereabouts,  knocked two of the smaller girl talents base over apex and shot of into the air on the opposite side of the stage. I landed in the lap of the director.
She did not catch me.
delightful.
All of these memories came to me in flash one morning driving the child #1 to school. We were talking about things you want to do but probably should not.
Like wearing roller skates to school.
As a responsible parent I should have discouraged her. Mayhap given some well meaning but ineffective lecture on rules and safety and the other bull shit that adults impose on kids to keep them from reaching their sum-total ability to be excellent.
I am a failure as a parent.
I told her instead about when I took roller skates to school.
My sophomore year.
The school was freaking perfect for it. Long sloping hallways that curved and meandered with nary a staircase to be seen.
One run in particular from the bottom of the stairs at the south end of the main hall to the drama room. Or all the way to the registrars office if you timed the corner right.
At least, that's how it was in my mind.
It never in a million years occurred to me that the night elves who cleaned the building also waxed and polished the floors. To an ice-like slipperiness. Pretty sure they used the Zamboni.
As I went around that corner I became a human bowling ball. I don't know how many pins I knocked down.
I lost count.
Best bowling score of my life to date on one roll.
The child and I laughed at me. At far in the past me.
Hearing her laugh, that joy and electric youthfulness spilling into the still morning air.
Makes me hope I never learn.
Stupendousness.

Retold

This story was told to me tonight.

It made me smile.

“Where did you Get those Boots? I really like them”

“Weeeelllllll,

I was on my way from one little southern hothouse to another, the truck was running good and I was feeling great. The South was feeling mighty fine just then. I realized that I needed to stop, drop some water off, and pick up some water for me, and some Gas for the truck .It was a needful  situation and one in which I approved. The convenience store that I pulled in to seemed to be  just the spot, I walked in to pay for my gas and realized two things. One, it was a mite bigger on the inside than the out, 2, it was not just a convenience store, it was a CASINO/convenience store!

I walked right on over to the fun part of the store knowing that may truck was parked just in front. Safe as could be.

 I guess.

I stuck 5 dollars in a spinning wheel poker machine, placed the max bet and spun that little bandits arm.

Straight flush.

The lights started to flashing and the whistles and bells to a ringing. Little lady ran right out of the back room, unplugged the machine and opened a door to reveal its guts. She pulled a little printed ticket out from its innards and I walked up to the payout and then out the door.

750.00 dollars richer than when I had a walked in.

Hopped in my truck and started off down the road.

15 miles later I remembered that I had forgotten water, gas and pissing.

Damn.

So I took the very next exit and pulled into the first place I figured would have a usable toilet.

It was Carlos’s Boot Hacienda, which makes no damn sense in Louisiana but the bathroom seemed fit.

I decided while I was there to treat myself to a new pair of boots, figured a hundred dollars ought to do the trick.

Then I saw these.

I had to have them and they was only ½ of the money the CASINO had just givin me.

Sold.

Then I got emptied out, filled up the truck and me and sashayed right on out of there.

That was, at least my intent.

I remembered that I was heading to my sister’s house to cook some food and light some fireworks with her children for the fourth of July.

So I pulled into the fireworks store and unloaded my over-full wallet on them for half my winnings worth of fireworks.

Watching those kids, light them fireworks, running around with the lit punks trailing embers and smoke with my new boots on the table in front of me.

Best damn fourth of my whole life.

I guess.

Oh hell

In some countries, by the calendar, I am considered an "Adult"
In a few more days or so I think I can safely say that I have lived more of my life than I have left.
Neither of which is a very comforting thought.
I am a Father.
I have two children that I refer too variously as 1 and 2, and "the NUMBERS' and I realize that I should be mindful of this and act appropriately.
Bull pucky says I.
If I feel the need to Juggle fruit in the grocery store, have a skipping or spitting contest or impromptu wrestle or sword-fight in the toy store.
I will.
Adult?
By age only.
Cultural definitions be dammed straight to Sheol.
That being said I had a very uncomfortable deep thought today.
Trust me, it was not on purpose.
#1, who is 13 and in middle school said Something to the Wife today.
"You and Dad may have crappy Jobs and think they are stressful, but you should really try middle school. Its MUCH worse"
My first reaction, on hearing this was to scoff, what does she know about bills and jobs and kids and car payments and children and spouses and all the other innumerable bullshit that is part and parcel of being a "Grown up".
Pshaw said I.
Then I had one of those highly damming spells of realization.
And memory.
I remembered middle school.
Really remembered it.
The fears and Pain and Heartache and Puberty and not being invited to the party and not quite knowing what to do and having a girlfriend and best-friends and fighting and My Grandpa dying and my Uncle Ron dying and Jamin dying and grades and math and wood-shop and ..........
well.
All of it.
I sat still and remembered all of it.
Then I had another realization.
This one was far more painful.
All of those stresses I deal with?
Now, as an Adult.
So do 1 and 2.
As children.
They are not deaf and Dumb, nor are they Blind or obtuse.
They know whats going on.
They hear the fights and see the anger. They feel the sadness and the pain of Adult life by watching the two they love the most go through it all.
They not only have all of their stresses, they have all of ours too.
My typical response?
"I dealt with it, so can they"
Why? I asked myself today. Is this some sort of bizarre hazing ritual that we all consciously and unconsciously practice?
I had to do it, so should they?
Really?
Truly?
Maybe some of it is unavoidable.
People are shit for the most part.
But as a parent of a wee human should not my Job be to see that they have it better and easier than I?
So that they can grow up to be a better and more complete person than I?

I hope so.

School

I have a really hard time making my kids go to school.
School is dumb.
Bad Dad.
I know.
Its just that I am not impressed with teachers.
Never have been.
I had some good ones, even a couple of great ones.
but mostly, some really weird people end up as teachers.
Its a thankless, monotonous, painful job.
And its 99 percent bullshit.
I flunked out of middle school
A lot of people wondered why I went to Jordan instead of Hillcrest, Its no mystery.
It was either that or detention.
Hillcrest would not take me.
Perhaps blowing up the chemistry lab had something to do with that.....
It really was an accident. Sort of.
Or maybe it was when Roger and I launched a model Rocket engine equipped Derby car down the hall.
No one was in any danger, the school was evacuated at the time for a gas leak. A real gas leak, but I had NOTHING to do with that.
Geez, that Frau Doctor Schmidt (may she burn in Nazi Hell) had NO sense of humor.
I admit freely that I was a terrible student. I never paid attention in class, I refused to do homework and if it got too bad, I would just leave.
Stand up in class and walk out.
Walk down the halls and out the door.
Then walkabout for a bit.
Walk down the road to the elementary school and visit my Brother, Hang out inside the giant tire and read a few library books.
Adults are so oblivious.
I would disappear in the middle of the day and show up, you know, whenever.
After a while I didn't even bother to hide it. Just walk out. Do my own thing.
Caught a snake one day.
Walking along the side of the canal.
Just glanced down and saw its head and thought about leaving it in my Brothers lunch-box.
  SUPRISE!
Oh the cleverness of me!
 I was already chuckling at the look on his face.
To think is to act, So, quick as thought I reached down and grabbed it. Right behind its neck.
It wrapped around my arm so fast I almost did not notice the rattles at the end.
God loves morons.

By pure blind luck I had grabbed so close behind its head that it couldn't bite me.
five rattles.
Fangs.
Then it peed on me, and pooped. And it smelled and felt awful.
But even at the young age of 13 I was pretty sure dying would be worse.
So I hung on, arm as straight as I could make it, getting those fangs and creepy wicked looking tongue as far away from me as possible.
Sat down on the banks of the canal and had a good PMC.
(poor me cry)
Then I smashed its head with a rock and threw its body as far as I could.
Walked home.
Did I learn my lesson? See the underlying moral fable in my encounter with the serpent while I was supposed to be in school gaining invaluable knowledge and perhaps unlocking the mysteries of math?
Knowledge that may have been valuable later in life? Important life altering things. Like the difference between a TSP and a TBSP?
nope.
Bad teachers.
What do we expect? We don't pay enough for good ones.