Sharing with you things that are on my mind...Maybe yours too. Come back to Wrights Lane for a visit anytime!

13 May, 2009

CONFESSIONS OF AN IMPULSIVE KID

We all know that kids will be kids. They always have been and they always will be. We all were kids at one time. Some of us still are kids to varying degrees and there is nothing wrong with that. As we mature, it is healthy for us to remain young at heart for as long as possible. In adulthood, we simply and wisely learn to temper our childish spontaneity and compulsive behavior.
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As a kid, I had more than my share of spontaneity and compulsiveness and it often got me in trouble. In fact I did some things in my growing up years that leave me somewhat ashamed to this day.
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My childhood misdeeds were by no means premeditated, rather they were generally the result of exuberance gone wrong or misdirected. An early example was an occurrence in the cloakroom of our Grade 4 class as students were returning from a visit to the school nurse who was giving needles for small pox on this particular day. Vera Bresett complained that her arm was sore, prompting me to say something to the effect that "it wasn't all that bad." If only I had left it at that, but to emphasize my point I had to give her a poke in the arm at exactly the spot where she had just been injected.
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The poke was a little harder and more accurate than I intended, causing poor Vera to break out in tears. The teacher, of course, saw her crying and asked what was wrong. Long story short, the teacher gave me a strapping for unthinkingly inflicting unnecessary pain on Vera -- six whacks on each hand. I carry the shame of that incident to this day and still wonder whatever possessed me.
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I didn't set out to victimize kids by the name of Bresett, but the next unfortunate victim of my impulsive behavior just happened to be Jim Bresett, Vera's cousin I believe. We were kibitzing around in the classroom and for some reason I happened to have a sharp object in my hand (can't for the life of me remember if it was a pin or a pen). As Jim walked away from me, I jokingly gave him a sudden jab in the bum with the (you guessed it) business end of the pointed weapon. Once again, I did not realize the force of my ill-advised prankish action. The resultant puncture wound was a source of discomfort for Jim for quite some time, particularly when he sat down, and I really do not think that he has ever forgiven me. Can't say as though I blame him.
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Another time we had been dismissed early in the afternoon to take part in our public school's annual field day -- one of my favorite extra curricular activities. Buoyed by enthusiasm and lacking patience with the slow-moving line of kids on the school steps, I gave the girl in front of me a slight push. The unexpected forward progress caused her to miss a step and we both went tumbling forward.
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Once again, a teacher appeared out of nowhere asking what had happened. The finger of course was pointed at me. Guilty as charged, I in turn accused my innocent friend Jim Ruttle of pushing me from behind. Without giving Jim a chance to defend himself, the teacher promptly ordered the two of us back to the classroom, saying "There'll be no field day for you boys today!"
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From the confines of a stuffy classroom the shrieks of laughter and cheering in the school yard for the next three hours was almost too much to endure. I can only imagine what a falsely-accused Jim was thinking. Much to his credit, however, he did not seem to hold a grudge against me in later life.
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There were other incidents back then when my exuberance backfired on me in one way or another. All I can say now to anyone who may have suffered from my youthful indiscretion, is: "I am truly sorry...Please forgive me!"
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Golly, thinking back on it now, Grace Wright really did raise a rotten kid. Thank goodness George Rupert didn't get wind of any of it.
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Oh well, there goes another pure image in exchange for the lifting of a 60-year weight.

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