Once upon a time, when Papa was just a little boy,
he had to do something terrible and horrific but which so many children before him had accomplished, regardless of how ill-suited to the purpose Dougie felt himself to be, regardless of how much he wanted to stay at home quaking in terror, or at Grandma's house, or even with a babysitter (anything but the thing he had to do). There came a time in a boy's life when he was forced to put aside childish things, all for the purpose of getting his life in gear, forced out into the scary world, for the life-altering even of attending the first grade of elementary school.
Dougie became a first grader. He has never quite recovered.Grandma Medvee walked him toward the gaping dark mouth of doom, her arms about him, crooning to him that he would have fun, that he would learn so much new stuff, that he would make friends, maybe even find a girlfriend! Even in those distant days, Dougie didn't mind girls so much, he never thought they were gross, or yucky. But girlfriends were the furthest thing from his mind, because of all the faces looking at him from all the doorways, grandma and grandson walked that long and dreadful walk. It seemed the very end of the world.Dougie blubbered and told Grandma over and over again that he wanted to stay at her house. Why oh why did even his beloved grandmother feel the need to betray him like this? Force him into this...PLACE. An institution, for goodness sake!As soon as they arrived at Mrs. Fowler's first grade classroom, Dougie froze and stopped blubbering. This was it. He had to go. Grandma gave him a final hug and he entered the dark room packed with children. In the echo of memory, it seems there were hundreds of children sitting at their small table desks, two children to each small table, all of the children (varied colors and sizes) quiet, and all of them staring at Dougie. Mrs. Fowler walked Dougie to his seat, about the middle of the vast body of children (in reality, there were probably no more than 25 children in the room).The alphabet was strung across the top of the room in bright colors, but the lighting was so dim at 8:00 a.m. at Quartz Hill Elementary School, that it all seemed a bad, gray dream.But he got used to it. He made friends. Even a few girlfriends. And once while goofing off in line Mrs. Fowler stepped close and swatted him on his "bee-hind" (which was a very uncharacteristic thing for Mrs. Fowler to do, who was always very kind, but apparently Dougie inspired spankings with adults wherever he went). Also, when posing with his peers for the first-grade class portrait, staged in front of the Quartz Hill Elementary School, there hung this massive replica of the Liberty Bell. At least Dougie thought it was massive, and a replica of the Liberty Bell. It had a huge crack in it, and of course it was fake. What else could it be?Fake, sure, but it was pretty interesting, especially since he was stood right next to it. Most of the kids weren't too curious about it. They thought the camera out in front of them was much neater.Dougie got under the big bell and seized the clapper. Hmmm. Odd, for a fake bell, the clapper moved. That was odd. Heavy, too. He pushed the clapper as far back as he could manage, not quite touching the clapper to the side of the bell itself, and then he let it go. The great heavy clapper fell.BOOOOOOOOOOOOONG!Several kids fell to the ground. All the girls screamed. Everyone threw their hands over their ears, everyone save Dougie (and please, someone SAVE Dougie!), who stood there trembling and pale (with bats in his belfry, hiccup!), pretty much deaf. And then of course, the clapper schwiiinged again:BOOOOOONG!At least it was not quite so loud for a second peal, perhaps only half as excruciating. But still, it definitely illicted several more screams, and everyone kept their hands over their ears, everyone, that is (you guessed it) except Dougie. He couldn't believe it. It was almost as if he had produced a miracle. Think of it, a fake bell suddenly pealed out so loud it could probably be heard all the way over in Lancaster! It was magnificent! He should get some applause for this one.Even deaf, and scared pretty much witless, he had to admit it, it all was pretty cool. And yes, he knew he was going to get in trouble, as everything he did seemed to get him in trouble. But even in that instant, he knew it was all worth it, even if the world ended.Mrs. Fowler grabbed Dougie and swatted his bottom (and the principal, a heavy man with a crew cut, got up in Dougie's face and shook his finger, yelling that Dougie ought to be kicked out of school for such a horrible prank).Dougie figured it was their own fault, having that big ole fake replica of the Liberty Bell hanging out there in front of the school, and then lining up all the kids in front of it, with Dougie right next to the clapper. Come on, what did they THINK was going to happen?One good thing Dougie loved in the first grade was the Weekly Reader, which never arrived weekly (but something like four times a school year). It was a little catalog of wonderful books that Dougie would investigate and study, and which Mama always allowed him to choose several, sending him back to school with the clipped order sheet and a check. The habit led him down the path that would eventually have him juggling five simultaneous book clubs, always behind in paying his book bills, with a library of books following him around everytime he moved, his very interesting friends, his tiny square companions.Apart from learning how to read in the first grade, not much else positive ever came about from Dougie attending school, regardless of how many years he attended, or the teacher talking up front. Because Dougie's mind had a mind of its own, and it often journeyed off, lost within a movie.Usually, during class, Dougie found it difficult to listen to Mrs. Fowler. His mind seemed to switch into "movie mode," wherein Dougie would see and hear all manner of images. Usually very exciting mind pictures, such as a werewolf attempting to break through the classroom door. And suddenly Dougie would change into Captain of Eagles, all grown up and dressed in high-topped boots and a black peaked cap (thinking back on it, remembering the images, Douglas now thinks his first-grade self was imagining himself in a chauffer's uniform), armed with a metal stick thing with a spring inside it. Dougie always protected his classmates from the werewolf. Sometimes it was a whole fleet of werewolves. All the older kids in the school were become werewolves and they wanted into Mrs. Fowler's classroom, and all the children screamed. Only Dougie, who could turn into Captain of Eagles, had any chance of saving the children from the werewolves.This was a movie that played throughout the first-grade year, always building, layer upon layer, always the werewolves trying to get in."Dougie!" Mrs. Fowler always snapped from the front of the classroom. That proved a repeating litany throughout his school years. "Dougie!" and "What did I just say, Mr. Larsen?" and "Doug? Are you here with us?" and for many years, probably all the way to the fifth grade: "DOUGIE!"Silly teachers. Didn't they know that anything that could be said from the front of the classroom had little chance of competing with the movie in his head? Yet, Dougie DID try to listen, pay attention, keep his ears peeled, focus to whomever was up front, to whatever they were saying. He didn't TRY to make a movie in his head.But the movie kept playing. It wouldn't stop. And often Dougie snorted or laughed out loud in the classroom, because the movie was more real than the classroom around him, and all eyes turned to him, all the eyes in both worlds, before he realized he was back inside his head, surrounded by children who were very busily listening ot the teacher up front. To his credit, through the years, he learned to half-focus his outward senses upon his surroundings, a multi-tasking monitoring lest any attention focus upon him. All the while he saw and participated in his inner drama, his physical hands doodled on the paper, all his early doodles made with massive fat pencils with thick, black lead. He somehow survived the first grade, and by the end of his time he was a voracious reader, already plunging through second- and third-grade books, and wonder of wonders Dougie found that reading books produced something very similar to the movies in his head. He found himself in odd and beautiful worlds, participating, seeing, hearing, tasting and touching, and at a very early age he realized that the realities experienced within the books produced very vivid and real memories, the same as living life in the real world.And yes, the werewolves are still outside the door. They are still panting and scratching to get in.All Stories © 2009 Douglas Christian Larsen
important - FIGHT THE FLU WITH HERBS - important
