High-School

My father provided me a 1975 Plymouth Valiant to drive to school. It was an unattractive Beige, and the floorboards were mostly rotted-out. But it ran well.

I was relatively uninterested in my schooling. There seemed to be a lot of people jockeying for social position. I was not the slightest bit interested in that.

As a 10th-grader, the coach wanted me to be on the starting Varsity team. I was ~195 pounds and 6 feet tall. I was a strong kid, but he had me practicing against people considerably older, larger, heavier, and stronger than me.

One particular practice, I was supposed to be blocking two such individuals at the same time. I was experiencing some difficulty accomplishing that, and some other team members thought I could use some words of encouragement.

"DilbertIRL, you make your blocks or I'll beat your ass after practice!"

Hmm...

This was perhaps not the best method of encouragement for me. I didn't really understand how I could be expected to perfectly block 2 larger and stronger people at the same time. Failing that, I didn't understand why my teammate should want to physically assault me.


My parents were filing for divorce at the same time.

My mom was the first to file. She had my dad kicked out of the house via restraining order. Rather than telling me, or letting my father tell me, she had secretly called my friend Jason in an attempt to have him get me out of the house so that I wouldn't be there as my father collected his things.

Timing didn't work out, so I was there. He gave me a hug and a very short explanation and left.


I was stressed and confused and needed some time to think. I decided I would quit the football team. I told the coach. He told me I would have to turn in my things at beginning of next practice.

This was a set-up. He made an announcement to the entire team as I was there turning in my equipment. "DilbertIRL is a quitter! Tell him what you think!" I turned in my equipment and left to a chorus of derision.

I almost stopped for a moment. I heard one voice that had a different tone. It said "We'll miss you." But that voice was quickly drowned out and I left.

I had been used to set a social example of what would happen to you if you chose to quit the team.

The coach spoke with me in the following days and weeks. "If you quit now, you'll always be a quitter. You'll quit your job. You'll quit your wife." Etc.

For the rest of the year, there were 3-4 seniors that bore a grudge against me for quitting the team. They would insult me in groups. I was quite strong and I suspect that most of them did not want to meet me alone to insult me without the support of the others.



I have a brother that is 5 years my senior. He was always a storyteller, but he was my brother.

When I was in ~12 years old, he took me to the arcade for my birthday. He provided me a few dollars in tokens to play the games and he bought me McDonald's on the way home. Wow! What a great brother!

As I was going to the bathroom after returning from the afternoon of fun, I noticed an envelope in the trash. Being a nosy individual, I examined the envelope and found that it bore my name. It was addressed to me!? Ahh, inside there is a birthday card from my Grandmother. (She was in the habit of sending us all a card and 10-20 dollars for a birthday.)

Well, I guess my brother got to the mail first and decided to 'treat' me to an afternoon with my birthday money from my Grandmother.

It turned the really cool brotherly-bonding event into a different kind of experience entirely.



My friend Jason started to tell stories in the 10th grade. We played a game (among others) called Warhammer Fantasy Battle. My birthday was coming up. I enjoyed the modeling and painting aspects of the game quite a bit, but it was a competitive game. There was a particular model, the elven war chariot, that was quite expensive at $30. It was a very pretty piece and I would have loved to have one to put it together and paint. Unfortunately, it was expensive and utterly ineffective in the game.

Jason and I were talking about it one day as my birthday was coming up. I said something like "I would never buy one of those, it's just terrible."

He paused for a moment and sounded hurt as he said "But I've already gotten one and primed it for your birthday present."

Wow, I hadn't expected any present at all. For him to get me such a large and thoughtful gift ahead of time was a grand and unexpected gesture. I was very thankful and assured him it was a great gift and that I would love it.

As my birthday approached, Jason refused to let me see the model. You see, I shouldn't see it until my birthday. Bad luck, and all.

Hmm, as my birthday arrived, the model still failed to materialize. As it turned out, he had made the whole thing up.

I don't know why, but he began making more and more things up. This bothered me a lot, but not as much as him making things up about me and telling his lies to others.

At one point, I simply refused to acknowledge him any further. Since nothing he said could be relied upon and he chose to tell falsehoods about me to others, I chose to stop seeing, hearing, or speaking to him.

It was unfortunate, as I didn't have many friends to be so picky.