Chapter 12: Hard Lessons

This is the most difficult part.

When I was a child, it was hard for me to admit when I was wrong. I would often lie to cover up something stupid I had done. As I grew older I realized that people who do not admit their mistakes turn into liars and narcissists. I have had more than my share of narcissists injected into my life.

My first big lesson came at the tender age of six when I was trying to understand why it wasn't funny to laugh at some else's misfortune. We have to learn this despite constant exposure to mean natured comedies in all media. It may be okay to laugh at a TV show, but it is almost never okay to laugh at misfortune in real life. Millions of people never make this distinction. The most successful comedians make their living poking fun at themselves; not others. Larry the Cable Guy is probably the most famous in this generation. Red Skelton was my favorite from the sixties.

When I was six, I played a mean trick on one of my younger friends. It didn't turn out the way I planned. Bill Kerr and I were playing in the alley behind Doug Draper's house. Bill was Tommy's younger brother. I normally played with Tommy. Bill normally played with my younger brother, Tim.

Most of our games revolved around combat and soldiers. We were in a ditch pretending to be fighting Nazis. We were growing tired of the same old game and we engaged our imaginations, trying to come up with a new way to have fun. In those days, toys were something you played with if you didn't have a friend around. The ditch behind Doug's house was a great place to play because it was rough and distant. The weeds were high and their were rocks and dirt piles all over the place. My mom didn't like us going back there, which made it all the more exotic.

I decided to play a “funny” trick on Bill. I told him the wind was picking up and that we better watch out for tornados. I had a fascination with tornados after watching the Wizard of Oz. I began to act as if I could see one in the distance.

Bill was frightened by tornados and I began to feed into his fear. I told him that storms like that could not be seen sometimes, that they could sneak up on people and kill them before they knew it. He began to worry.

“I'm going home,” he said.

“Oh no, you can't do that,” I said. “Tornados are very fast. You can't outrun them. We better duck down in this ditch and wait until the danger has passed.”

I had a hard time convincing him that the safest action was to hunker down. As I built the lie and embellished it, I could sense the fear roiling up in my own body. This distressed Bill even more. I began to shout orders as if the winds were picking up. I worked myself into a frenzy pretending to see the storm approaching while admonishing him to keep his head down until I assured him he was safe. I jumped up out of the ditch and screamed, then ran back down and jumped next to Bill, putting my arm over his back.

“Here it comes!” I yelled.

It was too much for poor little Bill. He suddenly jumped up, clambered out of the ditch and ran away screaming for his mother. Success! He bought it hook, line and sinker. Hilarious. Only one problem. I didn't much feel like laughing and I couldn't really tell anyone what I had done. I thought this would be a real gas. But it turned out to be a dud and I did feel guilty about scaring Billy like that.

Later that day, Billy's mom ask me to come in for some cookies and milk. I disdained the milk but enjoyed the cookies. As we talked, Rose asked me if I had ever been on a snipe hunt. She talked about how snipe hunting was usually just for men but sometimes they would take a brave boy along to watch. She asked me if I was brave enough. I was, of course.