The First Day in a New School

On August 30th of 2012 my son started high school. He is a freshman. This reminded me of a funny story that I've often told, but never written.  It was my first day at a new middle school in Westport, CT. Here goes.

When I was in the 7th grade, we moved mid-year from San Marino, California to Westport, Connecticut. I suppose in some ways the two towns are similar, but geographically they couldn't be further apart. One is in sunny Southern Cal, the other in frosty New England. The fact that we moved to Connecticut during what is now known as "the Blizzard of 78" only exacerbated the situation.

My mom is an adventurous sort so she decided to take the train cross-country. The trip took her about 3 days as I recall. Then it took another day or two to get from the City to Connecticut because of the blizzard conditions. Normally my mom would get us ready for our fist day of school. In this instance, my dad had to stand in.

We did not have appropriate clothing for the East Coast. I had some cool Vans and OP shorts, but those shorts weren't going to help me now. My dad decided to take us to the Army/Navy store in downtown Westport to buy us clothes for the first day of school.  Interesting choice. I would say Guy Choice. He also cut my brother's hair. My poor brother.  At least he was still in elementary school.

I remember wearing my new camouflage painter pants and a dark brown jacket to my first day of 7th grade. I could have gone hunting later and passed stealthily through the woods without detection. 

Thank god we were moving from California with our camo clothes. There was a certain mystique about California girls that I vaguely recall being associated with episodes of James at 16. When I walked past the office in my new school, a fellow student winked at me. Marlon Acuna you know who you are.Thankfully the Connecticut kids were able to look past my camo suit. Or maybe they just couldn't see me?

Some of the kids did pick up on my fading Texas accent. Born in Arlington, TX. That's right. I grew up surrounded by cowboys like my Uncle David.

"What's a pin," they teased. A pen is a writing implement. A pin is something with a sharp point. Thank you for that insight. I really appreciate it. I learned to say ten not tin, and you guys not y'all. And a new one the kids in Connecticut were using - coming with? Meaning will you be joining us? Even Texans know you don't end a sentence with a preposition, y'all.

As I was wandering around the Internet looking for the perfect image for this blog, I stumbled upon Camoformal.com. That's right people. You can get hitched wearing a camouflage wedding dress. This is the most awesomest website in the WORLD. Makes me want to get married again so I can wear these...

PS. I think this foot model has mosquito bites from sleeping in the woods all night.

Afterbirth

When I was a kid, we moved a lot. My dad worked for IBM and we definitely lived the I Been Moved life.

The second-to-last place we moved while I was still at home, was a small town called Westport, Connecticut. Today, Westport is one of the wealthiest communities in the country. In 1978, it was still a place where a middle-class American IBM family could live and prosper. Sure there were the occasional Paul Newman sightings -- but he was just out grocery shopping at Hay Day or grabbing a beer at Ship's.

Moving to Westport was a tough transition from sunny Southern California. We didn't have the right clothes. We didn't talk the same way. It was fricking freezing during the famed Blizzard of '78. It's a long story that I tell in detail in my blog Middle School Blues.

My first day of school I was sitting in the office and a boy walked by and winked at me. I thought to myself, "I am not in Kansas anymore." Or Cali. These kids were going to be tough. And they were tough.

There was a kid on the bus named Jeb. He was older and popular and cool. And I was none of those things. Jeb started calling me "afterbirth". To this day I don't know why. Worse, I didn't know what it meant. And we didn't have the Google back in those days so I just sat there wondering. Now I know what it means. I have firsthand knowledge since becoming a parent.

Yesterday I was on Facebook where my now Facebook friend Jeb posted the sweetest picture of himself comforting his son who had a rough at-bat in a baseball game. I couldn't stop thinking about that picture and how much we've all changed as a result of growing up, getting married, having kids, getting divorced, losing a parent, losing a friend.

Good for you Jeb. Way to grow up and become a good man.