Rules Don't Apply!
Freedom at last... Issue #8
ifOnlyi… could have minded my manners, not talked back and not asked so many questions, perhaps things would have been different for me. I think I was becoming defiant, as well as rebellious, to be honest. Why?
My time in Estoril was ending before I had to fly back to California, and I had to get ready for another year of boarding at The Howard. The most fantastic Summer was over. The plane was waiting. All ABOARD! The hostesses were kind and cared for us on the long flight home.
After a few days back home, we went shopping for school clothes, but this time it wasn’t a department store that sold suits and ties, it was more like a surf shop. They sold cool beach clothes, blue jeans, corduroys, sneakers, and t-shirts.
I was told my time at The Howard School had ended, and I was starting at another new school. This was to be my 5th school already! I had made many friends and was popular within The Howard and with kids at competing schools, whom I played sports against, especially in baseball.
I was very sad and in shock. My reactions were: ‘You can’t do this to me’. ‘Why now? Why, why, why?’ I had so many questions, and I was in shock. My mom told me a change was needed to prepare me for public high school the following year. The Middle School I was about to attend was over 1 mile and a half uphill from my home. These were not just any hills, but competitive High School cross-country race hills.
I have lived in the city for 5 years now. I knew no one, not a soul. The kids attending my new middle school seemed to know almost everyone and had already been there for at least 2 years. I was starting over again and had to meet and learn how to make friends in public school. Everyone was dressed differently too, you could wear anything you wanted. I would soon learn the massive amount of freedom I would also have.
During the first few weeks, I noticed that they were teaching courses I had already studied. How could this be? I felt like I had gone back two years, but it was exciting, to say the least. I knew all this stuff, but was scared as to why no one else did. Scared indeed, I still had no friends, scared as there was no discipline, and the rules were loosey goosey. This was going to be an easy, smooth breeze for me. YAHOO… so I Thought.
I needed to get back into playing sports; the school did not have sports teams as I recall, but there was AYSO ( American Youth Soccer Organization), which was for kids to play soccer. No fastpitch Soft Hardball leagues either, but there was the Babe Ruth League, from 13 up to 18 years of age.
Learning a new form of the baseball game was wild. Instead of a fast underhand pitch, it was now a superfast overhand pitch with a different ball, bat, and glove, and the fields were very different too. I was excited as a left-hander, I could only play right field, first base, or pitch. I knew those positions well already. Let's go! Except for pitching.
Something else I was familiar with, something I learned back at The Howard school called Dares. I was given the dare to leave campus, run downhill to the local grocery store, buy goodies for kids, and run back in time for the next school class after our lunch break. It was downhill to the store about a mile and a half each way, and all uphill getting back, and by then I was soaking wet and hungry.
We were told NOT to leave school until classes ended for the day. I started to make friends by doing the dares, but this was not what I hoped for. Now I knew for sure more Dares would be coming my way. My nickname became “Caper”.
I know one thing for sure, this “Caper” was getting in awesome shape. Climbing uphill to school every day, then running to the store 2 or 3 times a week. Then, Sports, and yes, I started getting Chores to do at home.
Some lists eventually increased to a list every day, 7 days a week. I think the parents found out School courses were too easy for me, I didn’t do that good of a job lying, and it seemed that bit by bit I felt as if I had to learn how to lie and be believable, and when I did, I had to learn to get better.
Time would tell…
The list started small; chores would include keeping up with the polishing of the brass, and Mom enjoyed her ever-growing collection. I have to admit I, too, had one piece. This piece I bought and negotiated for it on my own in Fez, Morocco. A three-piece horn about 4 feet in length when joined together. I scored a sweet deal at the time.
Mom was buying all kinds of brass pieces from the shops, and I was drinking bottles of Coke. I almost backed out of the purchase, but the store owners weren’t happy and began screaming at me, so I took the deal after hours of bargaining. I believe I made a good decision. Now I had to polish my brass too, and it was a lot larger and more effort than a brass buckle.
I learned how to wash windows, something our home was not short of. I counted 65 panes. It was only washing outside initially, as the saltwater from the ocean would make a mess of them. This was a day's work, but according to my to-do list, Mom certainly did not think so. There were so many tasks I felt intimidated and I’m pretty sure the list was lengthy so I had no time to play or be with new friends or get in trouble.
The lists were posted daily, and any missed on one day were added to the following day’s list when she posted it on the fridge. I was thrilled when it was time for the summer holidays and a break from chores.
This summer was spent flying around the country in our K-liner with my Mom, my two sisters, our nanny, and Dave, our pilot. The nanny was in charge while mom met with customers, and she loved whipping us with a tree branch when and if we did not obey her, talked back, or were cheeky. She made me break one off the tree and pick the branch she would beat me with. Her issue was that she didn’t like that I would pick out old, brittle, and sickly branches that would break by just carrying them.
She wanted the ones that would make a snapping sound when the wind blew as you walked back to hand it to her, and then she would give it to me. Feck it hurt, left marks, and was different than the beatings I would get back home. I was sad and tired of getting in trouble, and I remember sitting under a tree sobbing. She was brutal to my backside.
I wanted out, and out now! I insisted on going back home to be with my Dad. I begged my Mom as we sitting under a tree in Cincinnati, Ohio having one of those picnics she loves as i was crying my heart out to send me home. I missed my Dad a lot, and as I saw little of him during the year, and almost never in the summer. She picked up her ‘James Bond’ briefcase with a phone built into it, all sorts of antennas and knobs to get an outside line and called to book my flight home. Remember this was 1974 !!Thank-God for Bond!! Off I was, going home. Yea!
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