mughes

I grew up on a farm in Nebraska.  I went to a one-room schoolhouse, K-8.  One room.

There was a 12′ tall bulky accordion curtain that split the room in two.  Not a nice curtain like they have in hotels today.  It barely kept out any sound or distractions, like when one of the students was told, in the classroom, that her brother had perished in a harvest accident — he was buried by corn and suffocated in a grain bin.

One cannot hide the fact that one has grown up on a farm in Nebraska.

Mrs. Davison made lunches for all 20 of us every day.  She was never sick or away on vacation.  Once, we put out a prairie fire and were on the cover of the Imperial Republican (another story).  When I was in sixth grade Lori Spickelmeier and I drove Mrs. Likens (formerly Mrs. Uptegrove) crazy by cheating on social studies.  Which explains why I’m so lousy at georaphy (another another story). 

It’s time for the apology.

When I was in third grade or second grade or some grade less than fifth, I discovered a pair of welding goggles in my father’s garage.  They were like swimming goggles.  Dad had them stashed in a cubby-hole on his garage workbench, inside a box.  The very garage that was rebuilt after the tornado wiped it out (another another another story).  I created an elaborate story about the goggles so I would feel special at Show & Tell on Monday.  I stood before the other ten kids on Mrs. Cranwell’s (the best teacher on the planet) side of the curtain and told them that my father had discovered the glasses buried in the pit (where we burned the trash) and that they belonged to an airplane flyer hundreds of years ago. 

My dad was the volunteer coach of the boys’ basketball team.  Apparently Doug Spickelmeier was impressed by my made up story about the aviator glasses because he asked my dad.  I have no idea what he asked, or how Dad responded.  The next day Doug Spickelmeier and his gang of four other boys confronted me.  It was actually pretty non-confrontational but I did get the sense that he was embarrassed.  I didn’t feel embarrassed so much as confused by what he asked me, but after I thought about it, I realized that he must have asked my dad about Howard Hughes’ first pair of aviation glasses.  He must have respected my dad and been very embarrassed when my dad shut him down.  I’m sorry, Doug.  I lied.

Please forgive me, Doug Spickelmeier.  I was just trying to be cool.  I didn’t mean to embarrass you.  I hope I haven’t scarred you for life.

This entry was posted on Wednesday, October 11th, 2006 at 10:08 pm and is filed under Friends. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.