Saturday Stories #5

If you are reading this and you know me personally, please know that it is not my intention to hurt, harm, or disrespect anyone.  These are events the way that I remember them, the way I lived them, how I felt about them. This is only about me.  Nobody else. This is my story.

I think I can.  I know I can.  I will.

So the other day the Little Man and I are driving somewhere talking about what is different from when I was in school to now and I mentioned that we had a smoking area.  It seems weird to me now and it certainly seemed weird to him - it is a totally foreign concept to him that there would be an area designated for smoking ON school property.  I love that.

The smoking area was always the part of the school where the bad asses hung out.  The guys with the long hair and the jean jackets or mack jackets (we call them Salmo dinner jackets around these parts).  My husband!  In grade eight my locker was in the last little stretch of hallway before the smoking area door and I can remember him sauntering out there with his hat barely on his head, kind of floating.  He was in grade 10 and did not even know I existed.

Source: wisconsinhistory.org via Laura on Pinterest

Salmo Dinner Jacket

My cousin Debbie and I went to the same high school in grade eight.  We did NOT get along.  The basis of our not getting along that year was a guy.  He liked me, she liked him.  I did not particularly care for either of them - it was pretty stupid.  So after a lot of bickering and dirty looks in the hallway, she calls me out to the smoking area for a fight! I was not planning to attend.  First of all, if you know me as I am now I am sure you cannot imagine me fighting, and honestly not that much has changed.  I was terrified!  Not only of fighting her but also of my Dad's reaction - she is his sister's daughter after all.  So my plan was to avoid, avoid, avoid (again, if you know me now this is not going to be a surprise to you).

And then came Scary Kerry.  She was in grade nine. She was old, bigger, and most definitely scarier than me. She found me and told me that I would be dealing with her or Debbie.  I was terrified.  For real.  I see her walking down the street now - 24 years later - and I still think (and sometimes say) there is Scary Kerry.  It occurs to me now that I don't know why she wanted us to fight so badly that she was willing to fight me (or beat me up) to get me to fight.  Anyway, I made the only choice I felt I could and out to the smoking area I went.  Tail between my legs, hoping for the best expecting the absolute worst.  I do not remember much about the fight - I am sure it was ridiculous.

Of course like all school yard fights it was broken up and we were haled into the office.  We got detention - I think we had to wash desk or some such thing.  My Dad?  He said she had it coming.