Silver VIP Member
Join Date: Feb 2006
Location: Hermossa Costa Rica
I done tolt ya'll 'bout momma comin to the school and whuppin me but good for fightin.
I didn't tell ya'll 'bout the fight.it was A bad fight.it's the fight that I'll fight my whole life.ya'll know,I was born with a physical challenge,which I overcame.and too,we had A little brother jo-jo,he was born with spinal meningitis,and was mentally and physically disabled.he died when he was 4.
momma had the preacher,Rev. Gochenhauer,from First Baptist church and the Circle C ranch to come pray for him.it was the first time I heard the words,"oh God,we give back to you this child to be your servant and angel to do your bidding as you see fit"and not the last time,as i've said it for many of my junkie friends who've passed, Godspeed.
so,I'm a kid,like others,I got my faults and my defenses and things of no fear of reprisal.
my biggest,with my challenge,and my little brothers is that the word retard as a funny,or makin light of "retards",well it's the big trigger that'll earn ya my wrath.you may beat me down,you'll not utter it again.
So,my next door neighbors have 2 boys,my age,me and Al are walkin through the back gate to our hallway,it's the corridor for where the buses drop off the handicapped.
their was this one little girl,she was about 6 or 7,she was in A wheelchair.
she'd been in a house fire as a baby,one hand and one foot completely burned off.and one hand had 2 digits that were once probably the fingers of A piano player,and the other foot hardly held A shoe,but she ALWAYS had beautiful shoes.the kid,Al,started walkin goofy and going ERRR,UHHH,DUH,making fun of her,I witnessed an angel cry that day,she had tears in her eyes,as I do now.ya see,i'd always spoken to her,we were each others candle.I really liked her,and had thought were she older,or me younger I'd kiss her.she was so sweet and kind.she must have known about my pain,the child abuse and violence in my home,the other abuse,because she would just talk with me when she waited for he bus home.
so,when I saw my small impish friend start to cry,and the look she gave me,as if I was ok with his actin retarded,By God and all thats good,I had to redeem myself.
I was A poor kid,I never had more'n PBJ or bologna for lunch,ever.and water fountain water in the pointed cups. so we used recycled lunch bags,and we had to hold the cups with one hand and the sandwich in the other.we was always made fun of....behind our backs.
well, this school year I had my first lunch box,it was A hand me down from the thrift store,A yogi bear,well,used or not,it was my step up in social hierarchy.I was becoming somebody.it even had the right thermos.
my angel,my small friend with the big heart and want for life,she'd been broken,now damaged,and I was A crusader for her,and then their was me, and my little brother jo-jo.
I rared back my lunch box,and smacked him square in his face,his nose exploded,he went straight to his knees,I hit him again,and again,the lunch box was in pieces,the handle in my hand,I dropped it and picked up the thermos and went on that butt again,I was sobbing,the torrents of the violence others had put upon me,I was placing on him.they pulled me off of him,I was fighting,them all,kicking and screaming,needing for my angel to know,that I was not like him.their were 3 grown ups holding my little 3rd grade butt and it was all they could do.
and then I heard the music,to some all they heard was the scuffing.my angel would pull her wheel chair with her one,imperfect foot,and guide it with her only 2 left on her hand fingers,she came over and said"Bill,I'm ok",and she mouthed I love you to me.
the neighbor boys parents, they were mortified,yet,as with many,their kid did no wrong.
theirs an irony on many levels.I never cried when I was being beaten,I was beaten unconscious at 9,the first time.yet,when folks damaged the inners of another,I would cry,I knew pain,in ungodly amounts.
Momma knew this,that day she knew.for on my face their were dirt streaks on my face,she'd whupped me and I'd not cried,yet before she left Mr. Hudsons office she gave me her tissue from her house coat,and told me to wipe my face for the tears.
I redeemed myself that day,proven my love,gotten a beatging,given one,
and when I got home,
momma loved her 'lil bill,she had A hard time expressing it.yet this day,she went to the woolworths 5 and dime.she bought me A new lunch box.
it was the superman one,new,top of the line.
and the kids in school,they knew,hold your tounge.for now,their was A new sherriff in town,backed by the super hero.
and yet,to my angel,superman was not painted on A tin box or in the tv tube.
he walked down the "retard"wing each morning,and each evening,to say hi and bye.
I love you my angel,and I never knew your name.
Last edited by dixieland; 10-21-2011 at 03:49 PM.
Reason: no cursing in open forum