Random act of gratitude. Of all the bad days in my life, I would have to put my very first day of Jr. High at Taylor (APS) in the top three. It was spring and we had just relocated to New Mexico. I was beat up twice, separated from my money from one guy, everything else I was carrying from another and my actual clothes in P.E. Even though I didn’t have a lock to secure a gym locker, they made me dress for class and of course my stuff was all gone when class was over, and the teacher blamed me for not being psychic enough to bring a lock and now I would know better. Then I got beat up again on the bus home. All the while I was told that there were three groups (tribes) -- Surfers, Chukes and Stomps, and that I was a Surfer (which is pretty damn ironic in New Mexico). All the beatings were instructional so that I would know my group and its place in the pecking order.
In the middle of all this chaos and misery I met Marc Valdez. On the face of things, he and I were from different tribes. But Marc had an Estes Rocketry catalog and that was just cool. I think my mom saw how miserable I was that afternoon (being dressed in PE shorts instead of the clothes she sent me to school in was a big clue) and I got a golden ticket. She basically said I could get whatever I wanted within reason (minibike was quickly vetoed). So, I asked for an Estes Starter kit (Marc had generously given me the catalog which the clothing thief overlooked), and we were off to the hobby store on 4th. Rocketry became a real bright spot in my life. Marc and I spent many days shooting our creations into the heavens. Marc remains a cherished friend despite the 2000 plus miles separating us. I’m not sure I ever told him just how important his friendship was to me, so I’m telling him now.I replied:
Aww, that’s awesome, Jonathan!
I remember how rough Taylor could be at times. There was one afternoon a group of middle school thugs from Taft lined the ditch behind the playground, challenging Taylor to a fight, as teachers hustled us early onto school buses. I saw Principal O’Neal looking weak and indecisive. With leadership like that it was no wonder the day to day was so hard.
PE. Ugh. I recall being the only one in the locker room who followed instructions and undressed to put on a jock strap. Everyone stared. I didn’t get the memo that it was considered gay, or something.
The model rockets were a blessing. Accessible, yet requiring work and dedication for our flights to actually take flight. And other things too. When I hear Jethro Tull’s “Thick as a Brick,” I think of you!
Friends, forever!
Snippets of memory. Your house on Ella Drive. Cleo, your dog. Your sister. And this:
And who can forget "Thick as a Brick"?:
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