Back To School, for other people

Oh man, it's been awhile since I posted. I spent Labour Day weekend on the lake at the Dude's father's and stepmother's place. And it rained the whole time. It was still relaxing though, when I wasn't concerned about Smokey.

We had left Smokey in the care of friends, who took good care of him. He happily gorged himself on rare wet cat food (holding out for it in lieu of dry), got his shots and otherwise lounged around. But cats, they express themselves in urinary ways. He left us a craptastic mess in the bathroom. Oh, Smokey.

I passed by a school today, filled with children, and a school bus outside. I felt a little melancholy. Back to school never really stops affecting you in some way, does it? You spend 14 (Or in some cases 15) years of your life, your formative years, basing your happiness and dread on the Tuesday after Labour Day. I never really loved the idea of going to school, but I was always pretty excited about that first day and getting new notebooks and pens and pencils and seeing if there were any new kids.

I suppose it's also sort of a yearly milestone thing. You weren't just 10 years old, you were in grade four. Now people don't ask your age and they care about what you do, which can go unchanged for years. What's marking the passing of time now is the fine lines forming around my eyes. Yes, that's now begun. I suppose I had to expect it. I have worn sunscreen since always, never smoked and stay in the shade. But aging still happens. You can only stop it from happening prematurely.

You know, people often disparage adults celebrating their birthdays. Often those people have children, come to think of it. But honestly? What else have we got to really mark the passing of time? People with kids start measuring their heights and noting their ages and accomplishments and birthdays, but this isn't about those adults.

When you're out of school and childless, I think birthdays are actually pretty important to a person. The years kind of melt together enough as it is. You don't have school to structure your life or define new eras of time. Maybe that's part of what I miss, if you could say I miss it.

Heh. Smokey wants more wet food. Not going to happen, buddy.

The Flash

Okay, like I said I would, this is the time I got flashed.

So I'm 12 years old and I've been walking to school for about a month. A new school got built nearby and I was aching for a chance to sleep in instead of catching the bus. My mom was pro exercise, responsibility and such so off I'd go, later and later each day. Sleeping in was bitchin'.

To get there, I had to leave my subdivision and enter the one adjacent, where the school was built. There was this beautiful walkway, tree-lined, gravel path, winding and turning, with lights built in for evening strolls. It was about a five-minute walk and a nice way to start the day.

So I'm walking through this path and I see a crouched figure in the brush. At first I think it's a kid. Nope. Then I see he's kind of shaking. Then I see he's definitely an adult. Then he stands up and I see the first erect penis I've ever encountered. Being 12 doesn't seem to guarantee such innocence these days, but back in the ancient times of 1995, it was pretty much a given that I was seeing something new.

I once heard how the natives couldn't see Columbus' ships because their eyes had no basis for understanding what they were looking at. Same deal. I stared at this protruding thing that looked like a fat, over-boiled hotdog and tried to figure it out. I really didn't know. Apart from being an innocent 12, I also attended Catholic school and this is not the sort of detail either my mom or my teachers ever revealed: that penises could look this weird and ridiculous.

So the man gets affronted, imagine that, and asks me what my problem was. Hadn't I ever seen a thing stick up before? It was an interesting question to ask an elementary school girl. I really hadn't ever seen anything like it. Which reminds me of the time I was 15 and babysitting a toddler and a passing woman asked me if he was mine. I mean, seriously.

Moving on, I ran like the wind. Adrenaline pumping, mind racing. "I just saw a penis! A PENIS!" I walked the rest of the way to school and this girl in my class rode by on her bike and told me I looked like I'd seen a ghost. No, not a ghost, I replied, a penis. A PENIS!

So she dragged my sorry ass to the office where I had to relate the whole thing, about the penis, the comment about the penis, how I ran from the penis.

So of course they call my mom and she cries. The girl cried, because the man had apparently said hi to her. Everyone was upset I'd seen a penis. They called the police. The police wanted a description of the man. And this of course was impossible because I spent all my time staring at his penis.

Long story short, there was a to-do throughout the school, memos were sent home, I rode the bus to school from then on, and my beloved path was cleared of all the trees so no more penis perverts could hide in them.

I was sad to move away from that neighbourhood, but I sure did make my mark on the scenery. Bummer.