CHRISTMAS DOO DOO

In Arkansas, before the days of the school bus, the little one-room schoolhouses were located centrally in the community. The idea being that no one child would have to walk more than three miles. With the coming of the motorized school bus, school consolidation began and tax money was collected to build bigger and better buildings. The long-range plan was to eventually have one teacher for each grade. This was slowly being accomplished in 1930's and on through the 1940's. As the little one-room schools gave way to larger schools, the grade level was extended through the twelfth grade. For the first time, it was now possible for a child living in rural Arkansas to obtain a high school education.

When I started to school at Light, they had already brought several smaller schools together and had extended the grades up to the twelfth. The school had only one bus but three different routes. This was a disadvantage if you happened to live on the first route, as we did, but nothing that getting up at 5:00 A.M. wouldn't fix. I was attending a pretty sophisticated school. I wasn't at the top of my class, but I wasn't at the bottom either. The bullies pretty well left me alone and I had made some good friends. I’d been six years carving out this comfortable place but it served me well both socially and scholastically. I wasn't a new kid and everyone, including myself, knew exactly where I belonged. When My Daddy announced we’d be moving to the Company Farm, I felt a real dread at leaving my comfortable niche. We’d be living in the Pruett School District where they still had the old one room school system. I would be starting the year off in the seventh grade. I was about to get a very unwelcome opportunity to learn some brand new social skills.

Now, when I was five years old, I already knew things that as adults we take for granted. Being the product of thousands of years of genetic engineering, I came here equipped to survive. I knew the biggest and most aggressive man in the cave was the boss. I also knew he was admired. This increased his probability of having more offspring. The weak were often eliminated from reproducing. I knew too, that the best looking were the most desirable, and this led our species to becoming big, aggressive and good looking. I wasn’t ignorant to the fact that this type could also be the most dangerous and needed to be watched.

I didn't know I knew these things, but nevertheless, I knew. The war years had taught me that there were only so many resources available. Therefore, man was in great competition for these few precious items. Through the General and My Daddy’s teaching I knew that human beings were the number one predator on the planet, and were to be viewed with suspicion.

As early as the first grade I viewed cute little five-year-olds being brought into the classroom holding their mother's hand a little different than other children did. What I saw was a potential threat. I was looking at someone that could be ruthless and dangerous. One that could possibly want to control and dominate me. A person that was ego driven and sought admiration. Little though he was, he had been indoctrinated to fight and win at any cost. I was very much aware of the shifting dynamics each time a new child entered my world. If he was to have a place of importance he’d have to push others aside. I’d stand my ground and hurt him if it became necessary. I had fought hard for my place and I wouldn’t be moved aside easily. The first order of business in dealing with this potential enemy was to evaluate him. Was he going to be smarter or stronger? I needed to know if this was going to be a threat to my social standing. I’d not learned to hide these feelings of anxiety at that tender age. The General called this concealing of your feelings, “Acting civilized.” I took this to mean that you should smile and not give away the skeptical manner you viewed the new arrival. I learned quickly and it served me well.

My Daddy felt it was his duty to teach me how to be a man. He started training me from early childhood not to show fear. “Don't hit anyone first, but if they hit you, hit them back, and hit them as hard as you can. Better to die than show fear. If you run from someone, I will whip you myself. Better you stay and fight and get whipped than be a coward.” When I was three, I liked my sugar tit the General had made me from a handkerchief. It had two babies rolled inside of a hanky and I loved them. The tormentor had inherited a strong set of survival instincts and was practicing up his predatory role on me. He was bigger, more aggressive and the dominant one. This was not a loving relationship at that age, as I’ve written before. I viewed him as my enemy and a threat to my existence. The sugar tit was my comfort. I took it with me everywhere I went and even sang to it.

My Daddy didn’t like his number two son showing these kinds of characteristics. He was worried about my survival in this cold, hard world. He decided he’d have to be a little harsher with his indoctrination. He called me a little girl and a sissy. He asked me if I wanted a dress, and humiliated me in front of the General. The General defended me, but little by little, I was formed and became a product of my culture. Over time I learned to hide my soft feelings of tenderness. It was against my nature, but what could I do. My destiny was to be a warrior.

While growing up I often stood and watched the General clean chickens. The intestines were taken out, and she gave me several good anatomy classes. Don't be afraid of a little bloodletting seemed to be the message. I got the picture. We have to kill to survive. I watched My Daddy and a neighbor kill a hog when I was four. He was first shot between the eyes, then his throat was cut. No one seemed to even give it a second thought. The conversation didn't even lag. I stood in complete horror, totally petrified. The Germans had killed my cousin in a battle of conquest for Europe. The Japanese had sneakily attacked my country in Hawaii. We retaliated by dropping an atomic bomb killing thousands of women and children. My toys were mostly guns. All of the movies I’d seen by the age of twelve were of killing Indians or fighting wars. I’d a gun in my hand at the tender age of nine and became a great hunter.

I had a great love for kittens and puppies and it seemed acceptable to show my true feelings for these animals. I’d carry them around like dolls and embrace them. I loved the General too and I’d hug and kiss her; that seemed to be alright. When I was alone, I showed mercy to those I conquered in battle. Often I’d set my captives free and many times give the Indians back their land. I preferred being alone to the eternal struggle in a social setting. Why was life so hard? I just wanted peace. It seemed I wasn’t allowed to follow my own heart but had to act tough. I didn’t like conflict and I’d only fight if I had to.

I walked to the Pruett Schoolhouse with My Daddy. Class was in progress. We walked to the front of the room where sat a Mrs. Goings. My Daddy announced that he had brought us children here to start school. Every male in the room was put on alert. I looked around the room. Hard, rough boys were glaring at me. Already I was being challenged to try removing them from where they were squarely seated in the divine order of things. Their looks gave me a clear message. You will go to the lowest point of the social scale. There you will wait. We will watch you. Things are already set here. We were happy before you came. We don't need you and we don't like you.

The girls seemed to be saying, “You 're so cute. Please be strong and brave. Save us from these rough, ugly, ol’ boys.” So it was that day, I started my crawl up the social ladder. Pushing when I had to, fighting when I must. Inch by inch, finding my way to the middle ground. I’d have rather gone hunting. I wished I didn't have to go to school at all. Who needs it? My Daddy never attended school past the second grade and he’d done just fine. I’d already completed six years. The General insisted I continue with my education. There was a chance I might get a job in a nice, clean, dry factory someday, if she could just get me through high school.

At Pruett, I allied myself with those I sometimes disliked in order to climb up from the bottom of the social pit. A few I genuinely liked and many of them are still my friends today. It was a harsh country in a hard time. There were lots of poor folks living in the community. Most of us suffered the disease of poverty with few luxuries. Some of the children had reacted to these conditions by becoming cruel. Others reacted by having great compassion and pity for those less fortunate than themselves. Most of them were somewhere in between, much like myself. I remember none being weak.

That year at Christmas, a young, blonde-headed, handsome lad of thirteen from a land owning family had a plan. He’d go into the yard where his hunting dogs were tied. He’d pick up some dog doo doo and put it in a box. He’d get Christmas paper and wrap it up. This was to be our teacher “Mrs. Goings” Christmas present. We would get a Christmas card and all print one letter of her name on it. The card was to read:

To: Mrs. Goings:
From: Your Loving Students.

If I was to be accepted, I would have to join the others in this disgraceful act. My letter was to be “I”. I made the mark with a heavy heart.

The last day before the Christmas holidays, we exchanged gifts. Mrs. Goings was presented with her dog doo doo and nothing else. She proudly declared she was so proud of us all and had known we wouldn’t forget her. She then opened her infamous gift. This poor woman's face was one of shock and disbelief. I rank it as one of my greatest sins. How could I, a son of a General, be so cruel? Rest in peace, my dear Mrs. Goings. May you and your family forgive us. We truly knew not, what we did.