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Study Hall with my beautiful red-haired girl…
We’d been told to take any seat available. After this day it would then become our permanent station. Walking cautiously, deliberately avoiding any eye contact, I held my breath. We had reached that awkward moment where we were too old to be in the grade school and – at least in my case – still too young to face the pressures of sharing space with juniors and seniors. Winslow High School building seemed incredibly forbidding. Just watching it from the safety of our school bus parking lot was alarming. But now I was inside and making my way through the halls and into classrooms. My overwhelming sense of panic reached high alert. It was impossible for me to gage how any of the other boys felt about this move. I simply wasn’t like them. Even my body had started to betray me. I seemed to have hair on my legs and pimples on my face way before anyone else. As I silently continued down the aisle, mid-morning sun cut across the room in a beautiful golden spotlight. And that’s when I saw her- hair down to the middle of her back the identical shade of my mom’s. Imagine my delight when I realized the desk directly behind her was empty. Slipping in as silently as possible, I was about to meet what would become my beautiful red-haired girl. Just like Charlie Brown.
Within seconds, she turned around in her seat, greeting me with huge bright eyes and an even bigger brighter smile. Oh my, was she beautiful!!! In this golden haze of sunlight she reminded me of the girls featured on the front of the Spree candy packaging. Each day I’d find myself looking forward to study hall. Her laughter brought such a welcoming ease. She’d wink while tossing her hair playfully over one shoulder.
I slowly let my guard down, to the point I hadn’t noticed Ralph. He had certainly noticed us. Ralph sat directly across from us, and without warning his words cut through the air like a knife. Why do you talk to girls like you’re one yourself? Are you a homo? There was that word again. I didn’t know what it meant, but the way I’d heard it always told me it was the worst thing you could be. My beautiful red-haired girl giggled and rolled her eyes. I could feel the flush stinging my cheeks as I tried to ignore both Ralph and my own unease.
It took several days before I found the courage to ask mom “What’s a Homo?” I spoke that dreaded word barely above a whisper. I knew immediately I’d made a mistake when she called my father to join in on our conversation in the kitchen. Without warning that following Saturday morning my Father told me to go get in our truck. Time spent alone with my father never delivered a good outcome, and on this morning his anger was apparent. What could I possibly have done? I always stayed hidden out of sight as much as possible. As we drove up Main Street in Winslow I quickly realized my father had been doing some investigating on his own. And as we pulled across the street I recognized the guy on the ladder washing the windows of Synders department store. It was Ralph. I sat frozen watching my father cross the street. Though I couldn’t hear their conversation I wanted to tell Ralph how sorry I was – that I didn’t mean to tell on him or get him into a scene with my dad. Seconds later my father was back in the truck sitting stiffly behind the wheel. I could feel his rage and I knew this drill. I didn’t dare look at him.
Seconds later, I felt his flat hand across my ear and face. I knew better than to cry. Real men don’t cry, that was his mantra. Besides physical pain is temporary. My father’s disgust would take years to recover from. Such is the power of a parent’s rejection of their child.
Monday study hall would never be the same. I wanted to tell Ralph I was sorry, that underneath it all, none of this really had anything to do with him. But he wouldn’t look at me. And my beautiful red-haired girl looked up from her book only long enough to ask me “Why did you get Ralph in trouble?” I wanted to explain but couldn’t find the words. She never spoke to me again.
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Tossing Glitter... Twenty-Seven Years32 Comments
Remarkable, painfully remarkable. Your recollection pulls at my heart and I want to scream. Remarkable that you have survived to be the man you are and the voice for many who have experienced similar realities. My esteem grows for you daily.
Marty- Perhaps? We can’t truly love ourselves in the end without fighting for our authenticity in the beginning. Nothing would bring me more joy than for someone to read Farm Stories, recognize themselves. and realize they can embrace who they are and be happy.
Thank you for all your beautiful support!!!
xo
Sad world. I had horrible buck teeth as a child or at least I thought they were. Riding the school bus was pure torture every day.
I had a bonus gift, my mother never said anything pleasant to me, I was always compared to cousins & friends and I was put down by her. Just within the last few years, I have learned not to care what anyone thinks!! I think I am more confident & my business is more prospurus due to not worrying if my eyebrows are plucked just like she wanted. Ha!
Eliza- I understand. In my mind I’ll always be that knock-kneed, pigeon-toed boy who was told he’d never find happiness being himself.
They were wrong. About both of us. Congrats on embracing yourself. Keep being you.
Thank you for reading and supporting Farm Stories.
xoxo
My heart hurts for that boy I didn’t know………..all I know is you are truly amazing even after all that. Xoxo
Mona-Baby,
That little boy is still in there and grateful for the love and acceptance you gave him. Your voice and support mean so much.
Love you…
xo
Heartbroken for you. I saw signs, WHY did I not read them closer? I don’t know what I would have done, except to give you someone to talk to about it, if you would have. When I was in 1st. grade, I rode the bus to and from school. I saw this boy scratch on the wall the word F**k. I walked in the door and ask Mom “What does F**k mean?” I immediately got slapped across the mouth. It was bleeding. I remember her throwing a dish towel towards me to catch the blood/wipe it off. I began to cry and said “But (no name) just wrote it on the bus wall and I don’t know what it means.” Mom told me I didn’t need to know what it meant and if she ever heard that word come out of my mouth again, I would get worse than what I had just got. Why did our parents do those horrible things they did? I realize none of us are perfect in anyway, especially as parents, but the first thing I did when I got to school the next day was ask that boy what the word meant. He didn’t give me the correct answer….my girlfriend’s older sister finally did. Didn’t she know what I would do and maybe not get the correct answer? When I was grown, I reminded her of that day and she hugged me and said she was sorry, that she handled it wrong. But that is burned into my mind like it happened today and always will be. I forgive my Mom because she did so many other things that made up for that moment of bad judgment. But your “bad judgments” from the ones who should have loved you most, went on your entire childhood. I’m surprised you were able to overcome the childhood you endured and turned into the amazing man you have become. I admire you to the utmost degree for all you have so tirelessly, not only overcame, but conquered!! Pulled yourself up by the boot straps, took on the world and won!! That coming from one of, if not your biggest fans and friend…..Kathy. I love you so very much!!! XOXO <3 <3 🙂
Kathy- People talk about it being a simpler time. In some ways perhaps but in others not so much. So much stigma given to that F-word from our generation, imagine my delight when all the waitress I loved dropped it repeatedly while laughing and counting tips. Their ill-reverence was like oxygen.
Thank you for you lifetime support and love…
xoxoxoxo
So very enlightening! The sad part is that the response that you received is still commonplace today,….especially, in small rural areas. We must “live and let live” if we are to ever have any hope of reaching our full potential. I am proud of you Eddie
Kena- For many the struggle will continue. And though folks like to talk about the good ole’ days it wasn’t that way for everyone. So many kids today are discovering their authentic selves so much younger. I admire them.
Thank you for reading and adding your own voice to Farm Stories!!! It means so much to me.
xoxo
My heart hurts for what you have had to endure in your life! I love you!!xoxo
Kathy- My loving friend. Your love and loyalty ‘SPARKLES’ just like ‘GLITTER’
I love you….
xo
Adolescent insecurity, teen angst, finding yourself… wonderful stories! Just began reading Farm Stories, and am moved by your words. Looking forward to more. You have a talent with words.
Kelly- Those years were hard on us all. In many different ways but ultimately surviving and discovering our authentic-self is universal. If only we’d known!!!
I’m so touched by your words and hope you’ll continue reading Farm Stories!!! Your support and voice truly means so much!!!
Thank you!!!
I remember Ralph and I remember that boy that you were. A few years earlier, I had decided you were
King of the Merry-go-round! I must have been in 2nd grade then and you were in 5th. The redhead girl, I’m not sure. But I hope it validates your feelings and your memories to know that someone remembers and cares.
Tammy- Your words moved me to tears. Yes, how it truly matters when someone says I remember!!! Perhaps I wasn’t so invisible after all!!!
I smile about that merry-go-round as we have another friend who brings it up on occasion.
Thank you for friendship, support and reading my Farm Stories!!!
xoxo
I was in that study hall Eddie and Ralph was cruel he picked on most everyone…..Love your stories about life at Winslow High sad that people picked on you, but look how great you are now….at least I think so……keep writing its great…
Anthony-
Thank you so much for reading and adding your voice and memories to Farm Stories! I appreciate your support so much!!!
Eddie,
I am so sorry that you went through this. When we were at school together at Oakland City, I always found you likable, smart, friendly and kind with a great sense of humor although at times you also seemed a bit shy. I wonder now if you were not shy but fearful of being bullied. If so, I am sorry that I didn’t do more to make you feel safe and comfortable. I remember that there were some cruel kids in our grade.
Much love always XXXOOO,
Cindy Kay
Cindy Kay- Thank you some much for your sweet words!!! You are so loving and supportive. It’s who you are . Always giving 100%
Thank you for reading and adding your voice to my Farm Stories!!!
Love you
xoxoxo
You’ve done it again Eddie. This piece took me immediately to a place where I had visions of a delightful path to a friendship that would blossom with the magnificent red headed girl. Then, with each word my stomach became in knots as it became apparent this path wasn’t going to be a feel good story.
I like others that have commented on your blog feel your pain as we have lived through various degrees of the same. I love how people you grew up with saw and knew “little boy”. The one who tried to hide, who felt no one saw him for I too was this little boy. Truth is, they did see you and “us” in a way that we can’t even imagine that we possessed back then.
I’ve only known a man who is beyond delightful, caring, warm, generous and ready to take on the world. All those things in the past have presented themselves to make us stronger and to become the persons we are today. Thankfully you’ve done the work to enrich yourself and presented this blog to help others see themselves and to help them move forward. To see we are not alone, we are worthy and we must above all else “toss glitter”! Perhaps by reading your blog “new” parents will find a path to create discussions with their children so in turn they don’t have to feel the pain you or any of us once did.
xoxo
b
Bruce- It’s always the highest compliment when someone says they see or remember themselves or their experiences in my story. It touches my heart so deeply. Sometimes the things that crush young ones are simply just abuse with words and unkind actions. And that will always exist but maybe if enough speak out those who feel they are different will come to realize their not alone. Someone is always there; You have to find them. Look for support through dialogue. Words matter.
Thank you always for your beautiful support and heart,
xoxoxo
How the heck did you survive to become the great guy you are, what a world.. And I was oblivious…
Debbie- Thank you for reading my Farm Stories and adding your voice and support.
Guess we’re sometimes more resilient than we ever imagined or perhaps because of. Thank you again so much!!!
xoxo
still no words. much love for you, but…words fail.
LJB- My heart always….
xoxoxo
How strong you had to be as a little boy, Eddie?! Its incredible, really! You seem so together and I love your stories. You are so truly talented!
It is so difficult to look back and wonder how we made it through certain situations?! I agree that it was not always the “good ol’ days” for many of us. This past year for me has been one of great loss and lots of self-reflection and remembering a lot of situations I didn’t see or understand until recently…it’s very eye-opening and I hate the signs I missed and my niaviety. I hate that I was fooled by my father and really didnt know him at all. He certainly is not who I ever thought he was. With the help of my immediate family, some dear friends, and a wonderful therapist, I am going through the grieving process of losing my sweet Momma and also no longer having a father who wants anything to do with me, my husband, my kids and grandkids, or especially my brother who took care of he and Momma for almost 4 years of Cancer-related issues, giving up everything, and being under my dad’s thumb and completely at his mercy.
Bless you for helping others, like me, feel comfortable about sharing our stories. Hugs!
Sherri- I’m so sorry you’ve felt such loss this year. Though we can’t live in the past I believe we also can’t move forward without examining that which has caused us pain. Pulling it open and looking at it inside and out as honestly as humanly possible. Never be afraid to talk or write it down. Healing comes from telling those stories. I know thats a personal goal for you! You go girl!
Thank you for reading my Farm Stories and sharing your voice and yourself. It means so much.
I’m Tossing Glitter to you and your personal journey!!!
Much love…
xo
i just want to take that little boy home!!! It breaks my heart to know all that you endured….I have so much respect for you.
Please know that you are very special and dearly loved. Xoxo
Janet- Thank you so much for your sweet words and support. I appreciate you and am thrilled that my Farm Stories can touch you in some way.
Much love to you.
xoxo
Such an emotional story. Thank you for sharing such personal and painful stories. You are a gifted story teller.
Melinda- Sometimes the little things have huge impact on young minds. Words matter.
Thank you for reading my Farm Stories. Tossing Glitter to you!!! xo