This Is Not Your Father’s Blog…
…but if it was, what embarrassing and humiliating story would he write about you for all the world to read?
No, really, go ahead, you first. I was such a straight arrow (ahem), that I just can’t think of a single thing.
The confession booth is open.
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Brady
… But then he forgave me and we hugged and I tried not to do it again.
Mike the Eyeguy
Oh Brady, you’re no fun. Details, man, details! 🙂
Jon
can we talk in generalities or …
Mike the Eyeguy
Generalites, specifics, or not at all, whatever you please. I guess it’s really more a thinking exercise as I sort my way through this most recent incident. Truthfully, it’s just the tip of the iceberg, and although I know it could be much worse, I still sometimes wonder whether I will survive teenagers.
Somewhere in the Great Beyond, my father is having a good laugh at my expense.
Hal
When I was in eighth grade (the age of my son, Tyler, who was born in Huntsville if you recall) I was waiting at a bus stop with some other adolescent hooligans. Someone got the bright idea to throw rocks at a name-plate sign at the end of a lady’s driveway. I admit that I threw a couple of rocks at her sign, too, but I missed and my conscience over-ruled my desire to be a part of the gang, so I quit.
Well, a couple of days later that lady showed up at our front door and was having a talk with my mother. It seems that she saw me out there throwing rocks and her sign was damaged. She was asking my parents to pay for a new sign.
Both of my parents confronted me about it. I admitted to throwing rocks at the sign, so they were making me pay for her new sign. It was $20, which was a lot in the mid 70s. I told my parents that I never hit the sign, therefore I shouldn’t have to pay. But the lady didn’t recognize any of the other kids that were out there (that actually did the damage). Therefore I was being held completely responsible.
My choices were to either pay up and take responsibility, or rat out my friends. It seemed completely unfair, but I ended up paying for the new sign. I don’t actually recall, but I’m sure my father gave me his best “Nice work, Einstein” look just as you did the other night.
It’s funny. The other day I picked up Tyler from school after soccer practice and he had the opportunity to “hang-out” with one of his best friends for about an hour. Unfortunately, for him, it was report card day. So, before I gave him permission to hang out with his friend, Caleb, I asked him if I could see his report card. He just hung his head. It wasn’t awful, but it just wasn’t his best work. So, even though I really wanted him to be able to play with Caleb, I told him that he could not because of his grades. He was not a happy dude at that point.
I suddenly recalled my mother saying to me “it hurts me to punish you.” I remembered thinking, “how in the world does MY punishment hurt my mother?” I think that I’ll call my mother and tell her I just figured it out.
Mike the Eyeguy
There, I bet that feels better, doesn’t it? 🙂
Yeah, the dispensing punishment thing is tough. I think it’s interesting to watch as some pacifists demonize just war/violence folks as “pro-war, pro-violence.” While there might be some notable exceptions, the large majority of soldiers and officers of the law use force with great reluctance and no small amount of pain.
With parents (at least thoughtful ones) there is similar pain and reluctance in grounding, taking away privileges, etc., but “tough love” demands it.
You know now that you brought up the subject of throwing rocks, I seem to remember something about a group of boys on the front lawn of a church covered in freshly fallen snow, a snowball fight, a moving city bus, a window shattering, and the sound of air brakes. Yep, it’s a jumbled-up blur, but it’s slowly starting to come back to me…
Jon
When I was a sophmore in high school the youth group gathered at the church builidng to play some games as an alternative to getting into mischief in the town. Now we all know nothing bad happens in a church building don’t we. Yeah right. Well, we decided to play flashlight tag. Basically you turn the lights out and one person has a flashlight and goes looking for the opponents. When he/she shines the flashlight on them they have to call their name while the light is still on them. Let me back up a bit, right before the YM left he said “I don’t care what you play just don’t run.” (Sure we won’t run. :p) Anyways I was making my way down the side of auditorium when I was spotlighted. Being a competitor and not wanting to be done playing so soon; what did I do. I WUZ RUNNNING. Well the girl (YM’s daughter) ran to cut me off, so I decided to hurdle the last pew. Unfortunately for me I have big feet and no vertical. Well I didn’ t quite clear the pew sending myself head first into the wall.
The wall at back of the auditorium now has a 2 foot hole in the wall and church is in 12 hours. The deacon of the youth group ha d to call the YM who in all his wisdom didn’t call anyone else. With some quick thinking we rigged a cork bulletin board to cover the hole and inbetween services the janitor patched and painted the hole.
That secret was safe with my YM, and youth deacon until our churches 50th anniversary. My YM, who had moved to Lubbock, TX, was there and decided to let everyone in on the secret. That’s when I got the “Jon, you dummy” look from my parents. I wonder if I would get that if I told them other stories from growing up…hmmm..
The moral of this story is…don’t try to hurdle pews.
Mike the Eyeguy
Jon, I’m sure that had you not been temporarily blinded by the spotlight, that you would have cleared the pew with room to spare.
BTW, the church payed for the bus window, but we all ended up doing some “community service” under the supervision of one of our elders.
Hal
Well, I didn’t mention anything about snowballs and vehicles because this is about my father’s blog. I was nowhere close to innocent in this category; I just never got caught. Hence the silence on my “dad’s blog.” In fact, there are many other stories that he would be silent about, thankfully. However, it makes me wonder what I don’t know about some of my childrens’ misadventures.
Mike the Eyeguy
Hal,
I go back and forth between wanting to know and remaining blissfully ignorant. There’s something to be said for “fat, dumb and happy;” until it reaches out and bites you in the butt.
ed
I was a good kid 😉
Mike the Eyeguy
I know where your father lives. I’ll ask him.
Laurie
Can I come late to the party?
My kids know about this one, but my parents still don’t!
When I was fifteen, about ten of of us band kids got out of class early (which means it must’ve been band class) and were wandering around the high school campus. We got to the parking lot and saw the little bitty Datsun belonging to a friend. The guys got the great idea to lift the car up and turn it sideways in the parking space between two other cars, so it would be stuck there until at least one of them moved. All went according to plan, andto this day I am absolutely, 100% positive that we did this without coming within six inches of the cars on either side. (I was specifically watching.)
We finished our dirty deed and went on to our next classes. About half an hour later, an announcement came over the all-school loudspeaker: “Will Kyle B, Laurie L, Dan F… etc. etc. please report to the front office.” So we all sheepishly showed up to the front office to find the police waiting for us. Apparently the girl parked to the right of “our” car had tried to pull out and scraped up the side of her car but good — and then told the office and police that WE had scratched it! (I still, almost thirty years later, have forgiveness issues with this woman!!)
The police took our names and identifying information and told us they would not contact our parents if we agreed to pay for all damage. We thought this was incredibly unfair, but it beat the alternative. I think she got several estimates and took the highest one. Fortunately there were about ten of us to spread the cost over.
Yeah, I suppose I learned my lesson. But I think I would have learned it better if we’d actually done what we were accused of.
Mike the Eyeguy
Latecomers are always welcome.
There must be something about band kids and cars. A few weeks ago, a friend of Number One’s was parked in his assigned spot after school during cross country practice. Normally, the band returns to the school about 6:00pm after the parking lot is clear and uses that space to practice.
This day, they decided to practice early. When they saw this guy’s car parked in the middle of their practice area, they proceeded to BREAK HIS BACK WINDOW, put the truck in neutral and roll it out of the way.
The owner returned and was infuriated (he had already been told by a witness what had happened). He confronted the band director, who told him “You shouldn’t have been parked there!”
I knew band folks were serious, but sheez! I’m not sure if the police have gotten involved on this one, but I’m pretty sure the boy’s father has.
Laurie
I’m seeing a reality TV show here:
Band Geeks Gone Wild!
(‘Scuse me, gotta go, MTV is calling.)
Mike the Eyeguy
That’s funny.