It snowed that spring. So unusual for our state. Our state which is so much the more famous for philandering republicans and topless biker rallies in Myrtle Beach. Classes were canceled for that day. All the gang got together and scraped snow off of cars to throw it at each other in parking lots. Snow isn't something Im used to seeing. Being from south-central SC means that I could have potentially interacted with snow about once in a decade... and the last time I had seen 4 inches or so... was never. Im sure the other members of the gang must have found my child-like delight with the stuff.... juvenile. But I was a long ways from caring, and was the main instigator in all of the snow time mischief.
The campus is such a different place covered in snow, and unfettered by academic constraints. Especially the kind of snow that we get in the south.... short lived and muddy looking four hours after it's fallen. All of the sculpted hedges which under during normal weather look so perfect; Stately even, in the snow they look foolish and comic. Garish characterizations of themselves. The sidewalks which were so clearly defined before became a patchwork of dirty browns and asphalt. Icicles don't always hang from ledges in pristine and exact repetition. Nature mocks us. Nature knows no morality.
I believed very strongly in right and wrong. I believed that my heart was desperate, and wicked... and that as a person I should seek the restraints of Christianity if i was every going to find and sustain happiness. Although now that I think about it... at the time, whether i was aware of it or not.... Id never experienced long-term unhappiness. I hadn't experienced very much at all. Who knows why I believed these things. I mean... doubtless hundreds of thousands of hours of Sunday school and Bible studies could have had something to do with it. Maybe it could have been because my father was so passionate about keeping me out of trouble. Away from alcohol and loose women. So passionate about all this so that I wouldn't make the same mistakes that he had. I knew he felt like this.... Ive known it since I was very young. I felt the tension and power that high expectations can have on a person. Even from my earliest childhood memories I recall a singular concept. "Holiness leads to Happiness." The more that we can separate ourselves unto mystic hebrew god.... the more we can lead fulfilling lives. This is exactly what I aspired to. I wanted this contentment. Even though, oddly enough, I wasn't discontent.
It was after dinner on a cold February evening. I wasn't more than 16 years old. My brother John, and sister Beth were milling about, 14 and 12 respectively. Something was wrong with the parents. They weren't making their usual in-roads into popcorn production and television before bed. They had an announcement.... and so gathered us children together. We took places in the dinning room using chairs from around the table or standing curiously beside them. My dad is a short stout man. Given to loudness and being opinionated. He likes firearms to distraction... and at any given time has 186 long guns, and a smattering of handguns that he shuffles through his collection by selling them off to rural people who like killing woodland creatures for sport. He's not a man to be trifled with. He pulled up his chair for his announcement, and mom took her place behind him at his right shoulder.
"There's something that your mom and I have been needing to tell you kids for a while." He started in. I had never seen him unsure of anything he had to say... and was almost immediately struck by the comedy of this 'intervention' style announcement.
"Back a long time before i was saved... when I was 20... I made some bad decisions. I got a girl pregnant, and we got married. We had a daughter. Her name is Heather. I think you met her one time, Josh, at MawMaw's house. She's all grown up now." (Saved is the term that persons in our particular stripe of religion use to signify the moment that we aligned ourselves with the saving blood of christ... and began following the teachings of mystic hebrew god.)
We all just stared at them blankly. We are all brown eyed children, and as such I imagine that a unified stare from the three of us might have looked a bit soul-less and creepy. Dad had rubbed his knees and coughed in one of those gestures of tense discomfort.
"Oh wait... wasn't she that cheerleader girl? The one that was in college?" I asked... I had remembered meeting someone at my Dad's Mom's house years and years ago... and for whatever reason instantly thought of her.
"Yeah.... that was her. I think you were only six then. You remember that?" Dad returned.
The other children were as silent as lambs. I can only assume that they didn't know how to react. Or in the case of my brother... didn't feel led to react. My brother is a follower.
For seconds we all just sat there.
"We wanted to tell you... before you heard it from someone else. Other people know about her. People in the church. All the deacons know about it. We needed to tell them so they wouldn't be surprised about me being divorced." Dad continued on with his heavy southern accent. He plodded forward... telling us about what he considered the biggest mistake of his life. I found my footing rather quickly. Even at sixteen I had a tongue like a knife.
"So.... why did you wait until now to tell us? When other people know about it? When quite alot of other people know about it?" I asked. Not angry... just blank. Logical. Curious. Who was this girl. And why hadn't i been allowed to have contact with an older sister who was obviously cool enough to be a cheerleader.
"We wanted to wait until you were old enough to understand. Sometimes... Even grown-ups make mistakes.... We do things that we wish we hadn't." My mom cut in... sensing that she could phrase the answer better. She took a tone that she might have used to explain the method of discovering the surface area of a rectangle.
"But... didn't you think we would understand before now? I mean... Im... nearly sixteen." I countered... Immediately finding flaws in their reasoning, as all clever children are want to do with their parents.
It was hard to argue with that reasoning... even though it seemed like the worst timing ever. A new CSI was coming on tonight... and you know I bet no one was going to feel like watching it now. I loved CSI. Everyone was so stylish and intelligent on that show. And they solved the most complicated crimes in 45 minutes. Props CSI. Props.
Well I did perhaps the most irrational thing that anyone in my situation could have done. I didn't reassure my Dad that we didn't think any less of him for the deception. I didn't remind him that we all still loved him and thought that every word that dropped from his lips was weighty and truthful. I laughed! One of those short little.... "Oh my gosh! I got it!" laughs. My father had a secret life! One that he didn't like... and one that he had clearly wiped clean like a chalk-board and started over with mom. And then with us. Wow.
I was probably this revelation that brought about the most fundamental change in my reasoning. A secret life! How exotic! How.... romantic! And so very close to home. In-fact. In my home. It was all so magically laughable. And.... as I've stated... Laugh I did. They didn't understand my wonder and fascination with it all. They told me I shouldn't laugh. It was a serious matter.
"Oh.... well. Sorry." I said. But I couldn't wipe the comedy out of my expression. Especially my eyes.
I learned then that the truth is a much more nebulous concept than my sixteen year old mind had allowed for. That my parents were complicated persons of depth and mystery. And most importantly... they were without a doubt. Human. Their judgment was compromised. I couldn't say with 100% accuracy that they would always be right. I was time to start questioning everything.... and making choices for myself.
Toggle back to the end of the school year in 2004. Everyone was heavy with the desire to get the school year over with. I had packed all of my belongings into the suburban. That hulking vehicle. I was absolutely ecstatic with the idea of staying at home... away from here for a few months. I'd had enough of all of the fake friendliness and all to real discrimination. It had been a few weeks since I had poisoned Ramon's hair product. The effects were plainly visible. The tips of his hair were turning beige-orange. He had begun to notice too. I can't deny the pure delight I had to mask when he asked me if i noticed it too.
"I don't get it? It mus be this campus water mayn? What would make my hair do dis yoshie?" He had asked one night in the week before school ended. Ramon could not pronounce and english 'j'.... and so always had used the name of a Nintendo character. Almost endearing if I haddn't been convinced he was an evil serpent.
"Dude... I don't even know. You have to be careful what kinds of shampoo you use... and there's alot of chlorine in city water in the US." I would shrug and stare at him wide eyed.
All of my things were tucked away safely in the suburban. I knew that sooner or later he would have caught on to what i was doing. Low IQ, does not equal no IQ. I had left one bag of mostly pencils, pens and notebooks in my room. It was the last thing I'd have to retrieve before walking away from school. I thought about that bag as I sat through the graduation service. I sat with friends but thought how that one item of my personal belongings was left un-protected from last minute pranking. As soon as the service was over I ran back to the room to find no-one there.... but in the middle of the floor, there was that little brown canvas bag. Someone had up-ended an entire bottle of hair gel on it. Poop.
I scraped off what I could and joined my family for the trip home. "What's that on you're bag?" Mom had asked as I climbed into the car looking slightly angry and perhaps a little odd. I was still wearing the suit that was required for the end of year services... and carrying a canvas bag covered in blue goop. "Oh... it's.... nothing. I accidentally broke open a bottle of hand sanitizer on it...?" I said un-convincingly. They didn't challenge my story. I asked that we stop at a little community car-wash that we saw on the way home. So i could spray the bag off. I dumped the contents of the bag out in the floor board and marched over in my suit to ask a stranger if I could borrow her hose pipe. I did so with an un-blinking expression and the tone of voice that suggested i was on an important mission for MI6.
We drove home and talked of other things and I closed the door on the cubicle that I had put bullies in. Goodbye school.
