Thursday, September 25, 2008


I was moved to explore the concept of "nests" while watching a show about vampires. He, the vampire, in this fictional depiction about humans and vampires now able to 'live' amongst one another (the vampires are all actually dead and thrive on synthetic blood), said to a 'female human of interest' that he was more human in his demeanor and life because he did not live with other vampires in their 'nests'. Subsequently he could adapt to other lifestyles more human and fit better in their varying yet similar nests. He had not taken on or learned the behaviors and expected life style of vampires other than the need for synthetic blood and the reality that he is dead.

This really got me to thinking about my "nests". I have my "home-nest", my "family nest", my "friend's-nest" my "work-nest", my "community-nest", my "blog/email-nest", my "town-nest", my "state-nest", and my "country-nest" For this writing my focus will be on the first few; home-family-friends-work. That is where most of my"world" matters on a day to day basis. It is where and how I have chosen to belong and with whom.

My "home nest"? This interacts with family and friends in and out of the nest. The main dwellers are me and my husband Skipp. Many, many people have been in and out of our nest. A nest where many have found solace, love, safety, laughter, music, and good food and wine. It is what we stand for, believe in and preserve in our nest, along with respect, celebration, honor, hope, faith, and kindness. Our children have grown and thrived here and left the nest. Family and friends have celebrated, cried, resolved, argued, laughed, sang, ate, drank, gotten high, played instruments, have challenged, have spoken and been heard, have sat quietly in moments of desperation and fear, have rejoiced in moments of victory and new hope. Our nest is alive strong and has withstood many, many storms for ourselves and those we love. Anyone who comes in to our 'nest' knows what exists within and understands that being in our nest is a privilege for us and for them that requires really only one thing, that whomever enters comes in celebration of us and what our nest means and that we are in celebration of them and what they bring in to our nest.
Few have been asked to leave our nest. No one can enter with a weapon. We could care less about the "right to bear arms", not here, not ever. There is no violence of any kind tolerated in our nest. If, by one's desire to live as they choose it is destructive to what our nest stands for - then they are not welcomed. People's true colors show rather quickly and we have no problem saying, "not here". This is a nest worth fighting for, preserving and honoring. This is a nest that is 'life-giving' and we take in as much as we give out. We are always aware of the balance.

About my 'work-nest'. Some might call that nest a clique. Perhaps it is. I know that the seven of us in our 'work-nest' are very hard to penetrate. We are very cautious of letting colleagues in to our nest. Right or wrong, they must prove themselves worthy of our trust and confidences. People spend many, many hour at work. Nests form at the workplace and each has it's own design and expectations so to belong.

Nests are a necessary form of survival. Birds have them, wolves have dens and packs, bears have caves, and on and on. People build nests to live in, feel safe in, work in, play in, and grow in. The people in and out of the nests changes; some leave because it is time to go and build their own nest, some are thrown out and forced to find a new nest, some stay alone and live in their nest in isolation. It is still a nest. I know of parents that are no longer able to live in their nest - some have abused, some have been abused, some believe a different nest with someone else is a better nest to love and play in, some simply stop thriving in the nest for many reasons, some times one dies and the nest no longer makes sense. Sadly too, children leave their home-nests - they too may have been abused, some become destructive to the nests by their rage or addictions and they are a strong threat to others in the home nest and must go or they run away-the nest dwellers fight to keep everyone in their nest until it becomes a battle that cannot be won and a matter of safety. Nests are destroyed and built everyday. Everyone needs a nest to call home where they feel safe, loved and liked, are free to grow and make mistakes and where they know they have purpose and a place. It is the way of the world.

So what of the vampire? What would he or she learn about how to live, love, work, play, if he or she were in your nests. I have already told you what he or she would learn in mine.

Do any of you believe in vampires?


Saturday, September 20, 2008


I don't have any brothers. I have brother-in-laws or is it brothers-in-law. Hmmmmm, - and I have friends that are brothers, and I have other friends that are brother-like. But no brothers. One older brother-like person in my life was my next door neighbor growing up, Roddy, actually Roderick but we all knew him as Roddy. I had my first crush on Roddy. I was eight.
Roddy spent a lot of time at our house. His Dad wasn't around much so he hung out at our house to do "guy" stuff with my Dad - fishing, working on bikes, cars, lawn mowers, yard work, building things and just spending time. Roddy ate supper with us most nights. He was three years older than me and was quite protective - brotherly. We went ice skating once at the pond downtown and I fell in and Roddy pulled me out of the freezing water. So our first word for brother is "PROTECTIVE".
My next big-brotherly experience was with my soon to be cousin Tommy. He was engaged to my cousin Sandy and lived in Brooklyn. He wanted to establish himself closer to my cousin so he moved in with us eight months before their wedding. I was fourteen. He was a 'rough houser'. I never had that kind of 'rough play with anyone since it was only me and my older sister growing up. Tommy was playful and funny and somewhat of an advisor, often stern at times, regarding my youthful challenges and escapades. I stole cigarettes from his dresser once, and ONLY ONCE. He could be quite clear about such matters and I knew when there was no use in arguing or talking back to him. He taught me about the second things brothers have, "BOUNDARIES". Plus, he was six feet four inches!! He easily became part of our family; often preparing meals and doing house chores. He was a buddy to my Dad and kind and gracious to my Mom. I learned how men should relate to one another - with respect, honor and fairness. The third word/phrase about brothers is 'ROUGH HOUSE PLAY" and next is "ADVISOR" and then "HONOR AMONG MEN".

Throughout my life I learned from my Dad about brothers as I experienced his "UNCONDITIONAL LOVE" for his four brothers. His younger brother Joe died in the war at sea. I never knew him, not directly. I knew him through my Dad sharing about the strong character of his baby brother.. I saw my Dad cry at his brother Eddy's funeral. Uncle Eddy was a wonderful roller skater. My Dad took me to skate with him often and I felt so special. My Dad visited all of his brothers regularly and they visited us. "TIME TOGETHER" was very important amongst all the brothers. His brother George could not read or write. However, he could fix any car or appliance. He also played the organ, by ear. My Dad "CELEBRATED HIS TALENTS".
When my Dad died I can still remember seeing Uncle George sobbing at his coffin.

His brother Charlie was a real goof ball. When he visited he would get out of the car and instead of walking up the walk way he would do cart wheels! My Dad "ENJOYED HIS CRAZINESS". Uncle Charlie spent the last days of his life at hospice - My Dad "WAS THERE FOR HIM" right until he took his last breath.

And then there was Uncle Harry. He moved away to California when I was still young. My Dad 'NEVER LOST TOUCH" with him and even went with my Mom to California to see him.

My Dad was also a very good big brother to his sister Eva - Aunt Eva lived with us when she was 'down on her luck'. As her brother he felt it his place to care for her when she "NEEDED HIS HELP".

And lastly, his older sister Alice. She died when I was only six months old. I listened intently when he spoke of her. He "ADMIRED HER". She was an amazing woman of stature and strength. Her two children were young when she passed and as their uncle he CARED FOR AND KEPT CLOSE TO HIM THAT WHICH WAS SO DEAR TO HER".

Which brings me to my delight in experiencing my husband and his brother. It warms my heart to be privy to 'brothers at their best'. They, as brothers are, and have all of what I know about brothers.


Brotherly love is an unyielding bond that can restore harmony, provide strength and humor and levity, and dare I say, save lives. It is valuable and necessary beyond expression and knows no bounds or distance. This is true for sisters too, but that's for another writing.

Today I am celebrating brothers - and for someone who never had a brother, well, I have been blessed and inspired by all the brothers in my life.

Thank you

Sunday, September 14, 2008

A "Discovery Walk"

Mornin' - Here are the guide lines. This is a guided imagery designed within an imagined walk - you, the reader, will design your own 'walk' and the details of your walk by answering the questions below. Don't jump ahead!!! . The more you use your imagination the more "real" or "true" your answers will be. I will explain what your answers mean at the end. PLEASE don't peek at the meanings. It will ruin the whole thing for you.

A few statistics - for people past the age of eleven to twelve their answers will be about 80% accurate. With kids, between say five or six to eleven or so - their answers are 99% accurate. So, if after reading the meanings to the answers and it doesn't apply to you, you are in that 20% for that question. Relax. This is suppose to be fun!!! So stop over-analyzing and just go with the flow. Use your imagination and be creative. Okay?

Back ground - I am going to ask questions. YOU are going to imagine yourself going for a walk. Starting with this:

1- What season is it?

2- What kind of day is it?

3- You come upon a body of trees or a forest - what kind of trees do you see?

4- A- You come upon a body of water - what kind of water do you see?
B- What is the water doing?

(example for four A & B - pond that is still, brook that is babbling) get it?

5- You look over to your left and you see a container or a box - What is it made out of?

6- You walk over to the container or box - What is inside?

7 - You continue on your walk and you come upon a bear. - What do you do when you see the bear?

8- After you deal with the bear you are now coming out of the woods - 'What do you see as you come out?

9 - You come to a fence - 'What do you do when you get to the fence?'

10- What is on the other side of the fence?

Meaning -

1) If you picked SUMMER - that means you have arrived at some major decision in your life.
If you picked WINTER - that is a quiet reflective time when one retreats to gain insight and direction for a new adventure/decision
If you picked FALL - that is a time of change
If you picked SPRING - that means something new has entered your life.

2) The way you described the day would also best describe your mood today.

3 ) The trees you picked are reflective of how you see yourself in terms of STRENGTH. Whatever the tree(s) means to you, that is how you understand your own strength to be. Many people choose pine trees - and actually pine wood is soft, however - pine trees are forever green flexible and so forth. So YOU have to look at the qualities of the tree(s) you chose and apply that to yourself.

4) The body of water and what it is doing would best describe HOW YOU LIVE YOUR LIFE.

5) The strength of the material of which the box or container is made represents how important your STUFF is. Stuff meaning - life's things, like cars, home, furniture, clothes, - your stuff! So the stronger the material the more important your 'stuff' is. Often, people in transition, or life changes, could care less about stuff and will choose materials like card board, etc. Again, if your answer and the reason given don't make sense than you are in that 20% for that question. Breathe.

6) What's inside is WHAT YOU HOLD MOST DEAR.

7) What you did when you saw the bear? That is how you handle problems.

8) The image when you are coming out of the woods? If you were to look back over your life thus far, and you could take one snap shot that would best describe your life either as it was or how you wish it could have been, the image you saw when you came out of the woods would be it. (Give yourself some time to really think about whatever you saw)

9) The fence? The fence represents the line between life and death and what you did when you got to the fence is what you would do were you to find out you are going to die today.

10) The other side of the fence? That is how you imagine eternity.

Well, I hope you enjoyed this discovery walk. I have been doing this for twenty years in a variety of settings and it always gets rave reviews. Feel Free to write and ask questions for clarity.


Saturday, September 13, 2008

I Am Woman Hear Me Roar

I deleted my previous post - the one titled 'Don't Worry - Be Happy - huh.' I didn't like a comment posted and I could not figure out how to delete the comment so I deleted the entire post. I now have added a 'moderator feature' so I decide which comments will be posted on MY blog. Any questions?


P.S. I re-thought 'the moderate' decision. It was a knee-jerk reaction and now I wish I had not deleted that post. Oh well, live and learn. I also intend to ask how to delete a comment without having to delete the entire post.

P.P.S To anonymous - That was an interesting question on the post I deleted which I have NO intention of answering. Instead, I will re-ask what I asked. "Who are you?"

Tuesday, September 9, 2008


What the hell is normal? It is unique and ever-changing for each of us and it is always defended even in the most horrid situations; as in, I have a right to be/do_______________just fill in the blank(s) reader.
It also seems that one's defense of normal gets stronger and quite purposeful when one believes that an action is considered or understood to be 'the norm'. . Killing? In War? - Normal. Capital punishment? Normal. Various religious traditions? Normal. Diverse cultural values? Normal. Individual family and house rules? Normal. Sexual preferences and practices? Normal. Every aspect of how we chose to live our lives as part of a collective society has 'norms'. It is within individuals, raised in these 'beat me to death with your societal norms', norms, that people are seen as abnormal AND the abnormal know it is true. Which brings us to the "abnorma/normal" - consisting of some frowned upon, hated, rejected, despised and misunderstood 'condition - experience- action-style-look-ideal- what have you, - that separates people from other people based on societal norms and then those ostracised find each other, in the abnormal/normal places of our worlds.
There are prisons for the abnormal/normal, and hospitals, institutions, churches and church basements, therapist's offices, alleyways, groups, gangs, blogs, websites, caves, schools, cults, books, music, theater, porn, segregated classrooms, Special Olympics, and the list could go on forever.
Let's narrow it down some. I, like you, have a sense of my normal, which is pretty abnormal for anyone else. I also know when my normal, or abnormal/normal is even more abnormal, and therefore not normal, for me. That was a mouthful - re-read it a few times. For example, I told someone recently that I have a stuffed animal that Daniel gave me, (for those following my posts you know who Daniel is), anyway, he was amazed that I had anything from Daniel still and said I should just burn it. His reaction was his normal. My having the stuffed animal makes sense regardless of how I got it and why. Actually, because of how I got it and why. That stuffed animal is a reminder of what was and what I will never allow to 'be' again. Normal/abnormal? I think so.
Still, my abnormal/normal which is normal for me, is, as I have said, unsettled. I am trying to get back to my 'abnormal/normal.' Which, by the way, I think is perfectly normal. I pretty much know I have to "talk to someone". I have gotten some 'therapeutic tune-ups' over the years, - maybe six to eight visits and I am back to my wonderful 'abnormal/normal' self. I was given some really good advice, and that was not to let my therapist "get in to my pants". I agreed. And, just because I did that once with Daniel, the priest-therapist doesn't mean fucking my therapists(s) is a norm for me now. Yeesh!
I have until Thursday to mull over who. There are two choices on the table. I know which way I hope it will go. But that could just be me being completely more abnormally/normal than usual.
Until Thursday, I remain, unusually more abnormal/normal than usual.
To all of our 'norms' and to the abnormal/normal in us all - I say, "What the fuck?"

Saturday, September 6, 2008

"The Great Debate"

I have been quite blessed with random acts of kindness as of late. My brother-in-laws kind understandings were most appreciated. Considering that during at least two, maybe three, prior phone conversations his words made me cry. He would tell you that it was not his intention to make me cry and I would tell you I believe him. Although I am not totally convinced he does not want to have phone sex but that is for another discussion.

My last post surprised him. That's what he said. I pondered his words. I asked him what surprised him. He said that he found it surprising that I put 'it' on the Internet. Again, I pondered. I realized that what he found shocking I see as mundane now. I also realized that such lack of emotion is a sign of healing or healed. What was new for him is "old hat' for me. Oh don't get me wrong - I still remember every detail and feeling. It is just that now, along with a few left over elements of emotional baggage (one or two that can be paralyzing), I am as good as one gets after experiencing such things. My brother-in-law might see it differently - and that matters to me and I told him that. It always brings us back to the 'Great Debate' of the "clean slate verses murky slate in order to start anew" - which is when his determined and at times loud words make me cry. He wont have that discussion with me anymore.

My brother-in-law also said that he is amazed about the evil cast of characters I have survived and still, somehow, I turned out all right- meaning I am happy, loving, kind, compassionate, sensitive, fun and so forth. Maybe he doesn't even know how important it is to hear such things. I didn't totally know until I heard the words. Sometimes survivors just survive and then someone comes along and reminds them that they beat the odds. For anyone who has survived abuse you know what I am saying here.

I have explained to him that once a memory is tapped and surfaces it has to run it's course. It is impossible to push it back down before it is through or out. I have been re- surfacing ever since the first 'Great Debate' about the "clean verses murky slate" happened. It has been years since I have wrestled with memories and feelings and lost details like this. I believe it is a good thing despite the agony and clarity of the process. I wonder what it is I have to prove or figure out or accept.. I ask you, the reader(s) what you might think I need to prove or resolve or realize. Some of my own answers are off-color and unsettling and disturbing, at best. I asked my brother-in-law about one particular blank space in my memory with Daniel - I told him that I just want to remember since it is attached to one of those paralyzing pieces of baggage. He said that it is better to just have the 'phobia' and it need not be attached to the actual memory. He added that perhaps the memory is lost in the chaos of events and that to remember is just not necessary. I want to accept his view of this and on the surface I do. It is still haunting. Readers, any thoughts?

My brother-in-law apologized for a comment he made when we were together the time before last. He did not know of the experiences with Daniel at the time nor did he know of the pieces of paralyzing baggage when he said what he said.. One of the outcomes of the baggage is that I can't even say/write his comment. That feeling comes over me, that paralyzing feeling and I just stall. If he reads this and decides to ask me about the comment? I don't know if I could say the words. I think about answering him truthfully and I shudder. I laughed it off when he said it, saying, "oh please, don't worry, really, we make jokes about that all the time"!! Inside I was 'blood run cold' with old familiar fear. This, as of late, has been heightened and I can't quite get a handle on it. I have not completely settled back down to where I was before the 'Great Debate'.

I am somewhat concerned. I know myself and I am ruminating. I know the necessity of that and the importance. I am also questioning why now, no actually, why still?. Something is undone, unfinished, unreachable and it is clawing at me. And please, this is not a step backwards. Anyone who has embarked on a healing journey from trauma knows that "it" can re-surface. The difference is, no, the miracle is, I am not running from it. I am looking for it. Huge difference. So huge I am smiling. Yes, the 'Great Debate' with my brother-in-law was/is the catalyst and for that I thank him. We just never know who is going to come along and, "stir the pot".
Meanwhile, phone sex anyone?

still with a sense of humor,
your hostess

Thursday, September 4, 2008


I mentioned James in an earlier post. James is a priest, well he was, now he is a minister in a non-Catholic arena. Anyway, James dug Annie out of the grave; freed her, parented her, challenged her, loved her, listened to her, scolded her, played with her, cared enough to even shake her once, and he promised her a life time friendship and then one day he was gone.

This is the first time you are hearing of Daniel and Jill. We were all on a path together - each with a unique purpose, an "it" in my design. Each one I loved. Each one hurt me. In many ways it was worth it.

James stood on altars preaching of Jesus and how Jesus lived in all of us. He added that when we shared our truth we were doing as Jesus intended - to be "broken and poured out" so others could have hope. He likened this to what 'Eucharist really meant' and that each of us are called to be Eucharistic. I was spinning in a world of religious garb and gospel and old Catholic-Italian guilt and traditions, incense and crosses, white collars and black robes, sacred ground, boundaries being crossed, words of love - whispered at Daily Mass, promises, purpose - I felt special, chosen by God to have one of his church leaders guide me, love me, believe in me, and to whom I trusted my secrets, my "it's". I really felt like I was being touched by the right hand of God. In that moment in time, I believed I was.

James introduced me to Jill. She was very wounded and James wanted me to help her, me! I grew to love her and her me. We became the very best of friends.

And so James and I continued on our journey. As our mission became more complicated he felt he could no longer be my pastoral counselor. He referred me to the co-pastor, Daniel. I knew Daniel as such and Daniel was quite eager, actually too eager to 'take over' with my healing journey which freed me and James to pursue our pastoral mission of service to the broken. I now believed that God had sent yet another of his leaders to help me. I felt really special, chosen, and complete. I had James and our pastoral mission and intimate friendship. I had Daniel to help me continue healing, and I had Jill as my closest friend to share in all the wonder. God is good, huh?

James said many times that he saw a "gift" in me and from the concept of "sharing gifts" we developed a 'Pastoral Counseling Center'. I was really way too young and naive to do this but James believed otherwise. James wanted me to 'help others' who had a secret, "it", like mine. I was in awe of this man, this opportunity. I loved without question, was loyal and faithful and obedient to this man of God. I believed that through James I was serving God. I believed that with all my heart. James insisted upon it. Or better said - he made sure of it.

Daniel and I continued 'seeing' each other weekly for 'counseling sessions'.. I followed his counseling directives as if they were commands from God himself. Daniel always said that Jesus was guiding him. Along with the counseling Daniel began showing up at my house unannounced. He often came with gifts; candles, flowers, breakfast foods and the like. It wasn't long before he had invaded every area of my life. We began to go out to dinner, dancing, and spent hours at my home. He would do chores that 'the man' would do - yard work and repairs, etc. He insisted I keep our personal relationship and our counseling relationship secret from James. I was 'caught' in the middle of two priests, each with their own agenda. Daniel and I eventually went away for a weekend. There was no turning back now. The secret was bigger than me.

Jill knew. She saw. She was too weak to save me. I was still saving her along with James. I felt so guilty not telling James. I wanted to but I couldn't because I thought he would hate me, blame me, leave me and abandon Annie. It was all too much to figure out. As time went on Daniel convinced me that the only way for me to be free and healed was for him to recreate my "it". He assured me that Jesus himself was inspiring and guiding him. He insisted that the more real he made 'it' the more I would have a victory and be free. He said over and over again, "I am sacrificing all of myself so you can be well - the Daniel that loves you would never do this. I am doing this for you, for you, for you......" I believed him.

It was harder and harder to pretend around James, but I did it. Daniel was 'in my head', 'in my heart', in my healing', in my everything. I couldn't escape him and his commands. I couldn't let go of him in our personal relationship. I think I loved him. It's all so blurry now. I do know he arranged for me to sell my house. He had a lawyer draw up papers turning everything over to him. He intended to use the proceeds to add a room on to a home he owned and I was going to be a "kept woman". It all made perfect, logical sense at the time. I did whatever he asked, feeling like an obedient child of God.

As our personal relationship took on a new direction so did the liberties taken in the counseling escalate. Daniel was priming me weekly - taunting me with a yard stick as the teacher did - saying things in my ears that he insisted I tell him that the teacher had said. He groped and fondled and used his hands and the yard stick as the teacher did - only after he prayed and drank scotch while telling me how beautiful and brave and truly loved by God and him I was. Reminding me again and again that the Daniel that loved me would never hurt me and that he would sacrifice himself so I could be free. I was lost in Daniel's delusion - Daniel's professed, Jesus inspired, delusion. I was his proof.

And so came the night of the final recreation, this was "it" - Daniel was crazed, maybe it was the scotch, and I was fucking petrified of him. He demanded I do what he said, he was rough and wild and he yelled loudly not to ever resist him!!! I did though, I did. He was behind me, leaning in to me, using the yard stick to control me and trying to unzip and pull down my jeans. I fought back - turning around and pushing him, his arm came across my chest and I bit his forearm. He hit me in response, backhanded me so hard that he split my lip and the force knocked me down. I remember him over me, shaking me, insisting I get up. I couldn't. He promised me he wouldn't hurt me anymore. He helped me to the couch and then left. I was in shock.

James came to the rectory library where I was. He saw me - shaking and glazed over - he made me soup and held me. He called Jill. She came too. I told them everything. Daniel was told by James the next day that he had to leave and that we would keep it secret as to why. It took six months. We all pretended. James undid all the legal issues about my house and other monies and belongings. I had a leather jacket and a gold and tiger eye ring of Daniel's. He had my bank books and house deed and mortgage documents. We exchanged items through James. Daniel was not allowed to have any interaction with me nor was he allowed to do any type of pastoral counseling - per James!
I still worked with James, and Daniel was at most meetings to keep up appearances. Eventually James read a 'goodbye' letter from Daniel to the parish community that he was leaving. Daniel was already gone.
I thought James had protected me and kept our secret because he cared about me. I was wrong. James was planning to leave the church and get married. If it ever got out about what happened to me with Daniel under his reign he would have never been accepted in to another ministry. I knew this to be true because I decided to sue the arch diocese for what happened with Daniel. I went to James to ask him to 'tell' what he saw and how he made sure Daniel left the church and why. James said he knew nothing and had no idea what I was talking about. I thought I was going to lose my mind. That betrayal was worse than anything Daniel ever did to me. It is one of my "it's".

And so James was preparing to leave and he did and along with his leaving the Pastoral Counseling Center was closed. Jill was devastated and almost died over it. Literally, almost died. James and I intervened just in time as our last act of compassion together. Jill eventually went away too. I lost James, Daniel, Jill, my faith community, my religion, my job, all in a matter of a few months. "IT'S"!!!!

This is a very complicated part of my design. Some would say I am too blame because I was of age. Perhaps there is some truth to that. Everything I did was my choice. It made sense at the time. And I do not see myself as James or Daniel's victim. I also know, without a doubt, that my consent was never authentic. In order for consent to be authentic it has to take place in a mutual and or equal context. Any time one person has power over another (as defined by role), it is not mutual or equal and therefore any consenting is not authentic - as in doctor to patient, lawyer to client, priest to church member, therapist to client, teacher to student, employer to employee, etc. Years later, I still wrestle with this part of my life. The losses and lessons are endless, way too much. So be it.

More on Jill and the gang later.

Tuesday, September 2, 2008


Dennis was my best friend when I was ten and eleven and twelve and then they sent him to another home for boys. The teacher wounded Dennis too. We were bonded by our surviving him. We spent Saturday afternoons together. We walked and sat in fields and orchards and held hands and even kissed. He held me sometimes for a long time. We never said what t he teacher did to us. We made a pact not to. That made sense to us. When he went away he took my secret with him and I kept his with me.
We often got in trouble together. Once it was all Elmer Fricke's fault. His name was as weird as him. He had pimples and bucked teeth that were also sharp and pointy. He was the self appointed crossing guard and play ground monitor. His pants were always too short and his dirty white socks fell down loosely on his scuffed black shoes. He walked on the outsides of his feet so the sides of his shoes were particularly more worn. He was fat so the crossing guard contraption that he wore around his bulging stomach rode up to his breasts which were bigger than most of the girls. His nose was always encrusted with snot.
Dennis and I decided that we wanted to know what a tuna fish sandwich would smell like if we lit it on fire. And so we found a corner in back of the school and began our experiment. Much to our annoyed dismay Elmer Fricke came snooping around - saw what we were doing and reported us to the principal. Back then they hit kids and we knew we were in for it, big time. Our principal was a sadistic pervert. Sure enough, we were escorted to the office by a teacher and proud Elmer - asshole!
Dennis had gotten the strap before by the principal. I never had but I knew there was no avoiding it now. He called Dennis in first. When he came out I saw his eyes all red and he glanced away. I went in next. I got through it - five hits with that big ole strap. Today, that fucking pervert would have been arrested.
And that's why I hate Elmer Fricke.