Day 347, February 25, 2021
That Sheen
Tonight's soundtrack: The Jim Hall Trio, Budapest, 2010
The other day while Zooming with my parents, we started talking about some of the neighbors I grew up with.
My friend Matthew came from, what I imagined to be a quintessential American family. He was kinder than all the other neighbors, and was one of those children that just seemed to have a gentle and ethical soul. I have no idea how things turned out for him, or what he became, but as a kid, he was a nice respite from the bullies and meanies.
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| The snow is melting! |
Matthew's family was large, with enough kids that they expanded beyond my frame of reference in my pre-teen years. There were at least two older siblings, perhaps more.
Matthew's father was a bigwig for Raytheon. I had no idea what Raytheon made at the time, but what it did mean was that Matthew's house had the first microwave in the neighborhood. It was a giant industrial looking thing, large enough to fit a turkey in, it seemed, but we always wanted to go to Matthew's house hoping his mother would melt some cheese on crackers for us. That machine seemed like magic.
In Matthew's basement was a collection of old exercise equipment that served as an indoor jungle gym for wayward children. There was the jiggle machine with a band that vibrated your whole body as you stood in its canvas strap embrace, and the crazy bicycle where you pedaled as the arms moved back and forth and the seat rose and fell. They seemed like carnival rides for us kids, whose feet could barely stay on the pedals. What a fascinating artifact of an era.
I hardly ever saw Matthew's father except for the occasional time when he was sitting in the den smoking a cigar and reading the newspaper. There's a part of me that thinks I must be making up that image since it is such an archetype, but it is what I recall. Maybe we had convinced Matthew to try to slip in and grab the comics. I have the sense that his father didn't like to be disturbed when he was in there reading the paper.
Matthew's family had a house in Gloucester and they invited me out for a weekend one summer. It was a marvelous adventure climbing on the giant boulders by the shore, daring each other to lower ourselves into the crevices to gawk at crabs and what ever else we could find. I remember we found a tag sale and using what meager dollars we had we bought an arm load of beach house junk, lacquered sea shells and plastic harmonica lobster claws. That kind of thing.
On Sunday, we went to church and Matthew's mother asked if I was Roman Catholic. The question flummoxed me. I told her, I didn't think I was Roman Catholic, I was Korean Catholic. My mom bursts with laughter when she hears this today, but back then Matthew's parents were thoughtful and kind, and in a very early form of welcoming different cultures, still invited me along and explained the rituals. It was only when I was sitting in the pews that I realized that the mass was exactly the same.
We must have returned on a school day because I remember Matthew's mom making bag lunches for everyone. She had a whole assembly line process where she laid out half a loaf of bread on the counter, spread mayo on each slice, a slice of ham on each, a slice of cheese on each, and so on. It was astounding to watch her efficiency and sense of purpose. I don't think I ever attained that level of parenting.
I don't remember what happened to Matthew after grade school Maybe he went to private school, or maybe like most of the other kids on our street, we all went our separate ways. I lost touch and didn't see any of them except in an occasional passing in the halls. But at one time, we had the largest bus stop in the entire school. Fourteen kids from two adjoining streets all met at the corner of Bittersweet and Stillmeadow. It was a recipe for mischief. The older kids would steal our bikes... no. They stole my bike. We would build snow walls for the bus to smash through when it came to pick us up. And for several square miles in any direction, the woods, yards, streets, were all fair ground for children to be riding bicycles, flying kites, shooting one another with bottle rockets, burning action figures, sledding, or playing football. It was an idyllic childhood in a Lord of the Flies kind of way. I was never a ring leader, and mostly was the butt of jokes or teasing, but Matthew was always kind.
I wonder how much of our childhood selves carry into adulthood. Did the kind and thoughtful children become kind and thoughtful adults? Did the bullies become violent or aggressive adults? Did the people who cheated their way through high school continue to cheat their way into the jobs they are in now? Or, were we all just children figuring out all the myriad of ways one can make it in this world? Some of us tried on multiple different personas that seemed like the thing to inhabit for a moment or longer. I certainly went through several incarnations, not all of them nice.
I've never been to a high school reunion, but maybe I should have gone to the 30th. It would have been interesting to see who we've become. I suppose the next time there is a big one we will all be old. That will be something.
There is something really beautiful about childhood innocence, even in the bullying and petty meanness. It was so painful at the time, but so innocent in retrospect. There were lots of taunts about going back where you came from, being made in America, or what Americans do. A lot of making weaker kids do things to entertain and make other people laugh. It is only later that I learned that sometimes children hurt each other in terrible violent physical ways, and of course when we got older, fighting was no longer a playground thing, but a thing with life changing consequences. But by then we had all gone in our separate directions.
When else are you ever so exposed to one another as when you are children? You see the basements of each other's houses. You overhear the arguments of parents. You watch each other cry, and then get better.
It is a time when most things are fixable and even broken bones heal.
I wonder if, eventually, all things will have that sheen of kindness. Forgiveness.
Take care and be well,
Leo
From Our Friends:
From UMass Amherst's College of Natural Sciences:
Black History Month—Celebrating Black Scientists
The University marks the significance of Black History Month with a series of art performances, activities, lectures, films, and more. The College of Natural Sciences (CNS) proudly joins in the celebration to honor Black achievement throughout time.Science in the Time of COVID and America’s Reckoning With Race
From Vimeo:
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