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“You're projecting.” - Wife Number Two, the Counselor
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The Thanksgiving Feast.It's that time of the year again. The leaves have turned from brilliant oranges and yellows to shades of brown. The time had changed and temperatures have cooled…
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Keeping it simple today ... a zen koan ...
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I got a chance to see my two nephews this past weekend and as always, their innocent insight into the world proved to be enlightening. From Monkey Poop to thoughts…
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Old people like to eat certain foods that no one else eats. Or at the very least, foods they are stereotyped to eat because it's a dying food. Like them.
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There's a lot I miss about being married or in a serious relationship. Cuddling on the couch when we'd watch TV, cooking a grandiose meal for two, taking naughty showers…
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On my away home yesterday, a small sign caught my eye. "Church For Sale." It was in front of a little brick church with browning grass and sparse landscaping. It…
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I bought some music online the other day from an outfit named " CD Baby ." They specialize in selling independent music of all genres and…
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Dangerous LuggageI caught the ass end of a movie on cable today. I don't remember the name of it but it doesn't matter. What I want to point out is…
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Written by Ross Cavins
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Friday, 21 September 2007 01:23 |
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Second grade. His name was Marvin. He was in first grade but he was my age. He either failed or was held back or started late. And no, I don't remember who won.
Actually, Marvin wasn't my first fight. I've got studio-made pictures from pre-school of me sporting a blond bowl cut and a bloody nose. Obviously there was a fight involved but I don't remember it. So it doesn't count.
The fight with Marvin I halfway remember. It happened on the playground during recess and neither of us suffered any scrapes or bruises. After she broke it up, Mrs. Mims sent us to the principal's office. Nowadays, that's no big deal but back then it was super scary. This was when spanking with a paddle was not only condoned, it was highly endorsed.
 An Old Fashioned Paddle.
As we walked through the empty school halls toward our impending doom, we talked about the fight. We eventually decided our disagreement was petty and therefore solved. There was no reason to go to Mr. Feeney's office after all! Elated at our revelation and only steps away from the principal's door and a certain ass-whipping, we turned and headed back to class, friends out of necessity. When we entered the classroom, Mrs. Mims asked what happened. We told her the truth, that we'd settled our differences and no longer needed to visit the principal's office.
She actually bought it, probably too stunned by our boldness to reissue the command. It had worked! At seven years of age, I was able to plead my case to an adult and be convincing enough to win. And I did it without begging or whining. I did it through logic. Marvin and I no longer had a problem, so there was no need for the principal to work it out for us.
Amazing, huh?
Now that I think back on it, this may have been the first step toward me becoming a man. I've always tackled problems logically, which sheds even more light on my degree in Computer Science. And more importantly, why I still haven't figured out women and never will.
If you're wondering, I did have plenty of opportunities to visit Mr. Feeny's office in later years. Did I mention how big of a man he was?
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