The Closet

      I sit on a very hard wood chair staring at the opaque glass in front of me, mouth open, and my ears tingle. My mother is on the other side of that glass yelling at my elementary school principal. I have never heard her raise her voice to anyone outside our family...Now I know my mother wasn't perfect and with nine kids, a farm, and a traveling salesman for a husband, she was not a stranger to raising her voice, a temper or discipline, but time has an amazing way of softening the harshness of life and amplifying the good. I was disciplined considerably more than the rest of my siblings and my mother, knowing me well, knew that I couldn't stay in this world when I was having fun and engaged. My mind would wander to my own little world, so time out was just an invitation to explore and I would never understand its purpose or why I was being punished. There wasn't anything to take away( except baseball, my first true love ) and that would be more a punishment for mom than me. So her choice was spanking. She had three preferred methods, all of which I think caused her more pain than me (Hand, Belt, magazine (my favorite)). These corporal punishments were potent, concise, and not up for interpretation. I knew without a doubt why and what I had done. But I digress...

         My mother was yelling. Here is the reason why, several months earlier my third grade teacher Miss Firebaugh had run out of yardstick to break over me and patience. (next time you see me look at my left ear lobe. It is longer than the other one, it was her favorite to drag me out of class with) On the second floor of the old Centerville Elementary school was a converted Janitor's closet approx. 6 by 8 feet. It had two dirty windows and a green tile floor two wall staked with books no longer used in classrooms from Kindergarten to 6th grade. and two desk that faced each other. (they would use it for detention every once in a while).

     That is where I would spend between three to five hours a day, I remember once feeling so cloistered that I took my t-shirt off, spit on the window, and rubbed a small quarter size clean spot so I could peak at the mountains to the east. I couldn't read, but I knew what all the pictures were, so when I saw a picture of a dog I figure out a way to lift the letters off the page in my mind, rearrange them so they made sense and run them across my eyes in front of the picture of the dog. So it went, I didn't complain because it was challenging to get more and more words at once to flow, soon it took little effort to lift, rearrange, and redirect the words. The problem was and is to this day that often I had no idea what they meant or how to pronounce them.

     My world came crashing in shortly before school ended. There in my closet, the teacher didn't realize that since it was a janitor's closet first there had been a ventilation grate placed in the door and that when the teachers gathered by the drinking fountain their words would echo in the small room as if I were in a bell tower and someone had rung the bell. Most of the time they were just words and just noise, but this day my teacher was there and my name was spoken, one of the teacher asked how I was doing? " I don't know. I'm not sure he will ever get it. I think he might have a bit of retardation."  I knew that word. I closed my book and tears began to flow, at lunch I went to the office and told them I was sick. Ruby drove my mother to the school to get me (since she didn't drive) I was silent all they way home. My mother knew I wasn't sick, but didn't press me.

     I'm not sure why, I went straight to my thinking place. At our Centerville home we had a root cellar. On the south side was a beautiful rock garden. There was a larger rock in the middle with snow on the mountain around it and hen and chick (a small plant ) next to it that I liked. I climbed on it and cried as I wondered when they would come and take me from my family and put me in the special place for retarded people like me. I wondered if my mom could come visit me, if I would have friends and if they served any thing but oatmeal... I didn't like oatmeal. Most of all I was going to miss my family. Finally my mom couldn't take it any longer and came out to sit next to me which was hard for her. Ruby stayed by the house. I told her everything, as always..my mother wept as if someone had hit her. I didn't understand. I thought she was worried they were going to take me away too. She must have read my mind for she grabbed me so fiercely it shocked me and told me no one will ever take me from her, that I was brilliant, smart, and clever, another first for me and oh how she loved me! She told me it would be okay, to go play, then I saw something I had never seen after my mother finished talking with Ruby, the color of her face matched her name. 

      A note: To this day I struggle with the impact of these few little words, be very careful with the words you say. You can never remove the power they carry. You want your kids to be brats call them that, want them to be bad call them bad, even terms of endearment can have lasting effects. Please think twice before opening your mouth in anger or hate.


Gertrudism #4 "You want to irritate someone that is mad at you forgive them "