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IT WAS A YELLOW DIXON TICONDEROGA # 2
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Oh yes! We former high school kids have got stories! Lots of them! Matter of fact, my "peaceable" friend and classmate, Albin, in telling me of one of his melees, reminded me of this one. (Albin was stabbed with a pencil at dangerous old La Casita!)
Well, it happened like this. Our Spanish 3 class, as well as all the other 4th period classes let out, and between 4th and 5th period classes that little north/south hallway between the old high school and the newer library, was always full of kids...and noise...and fun...and horseplay! The big draw was the water fountain there on the east wall. Many of us were on the way to study hall in the library, and got in line for a drink.
Hereby hangs a tale. There was a predator lingering there...he was not only one of the brightest guys in our class, but one of the toughest and hardest. He and I were always good friends.The problem was---he was overflowing with aggressiveness and football practice was still an hour or two away. Hmmm....Whom could he hit? Yes! Mil! On the arm----everyday! Make a VEE with the knuckles, POW on the arm muscle, and if done correctly (as those nurses who give "interdermal" allergy shots say...) "you will get a nice bump." Only thing was: this one was a hundred times bigger than the allergy bump! The predator called them "frogs." (There were other "frogees" besides me!)
WHO was this predator? It was the great friend of all of us: Engle Southard!
Now, one time I made up my mind that this fun thing would be a two-way deal. One day Mil gets it...and the next day it would be Engle's turn. (Imagine my prestige soaring---seen bopping Engle on the arm in the hallway!) So when FROG/ARM time came that day, we somehow got into a friendly scuffle...a fracas...a minor melee. I had my sharp yellow Dixon Ticonderoga # 2 lead Spanish-Three-"Amalia"- translating-pencil (cost a nickel in those days) sticking up out of my shirt pocket, eraser down--lead up so as not to damage my shirt.
This pencil turned out to be in a bad spot, for it somehow, in the scuffle, stabbed me under the wrist, and a teensy piece of lead broke off into my wrist. I being "injured," the kerfuffle ended, and we parted, to await the next afternoon.
Here's the thing---the little injured place got well, but that black dot stayed under my skin for many years. Very small place, but I never saw it that I didn't remember Engle, and with great fondness. We had some good laughs in high school days together. We didn't buddy around but were friends.
The years came and went and I never saw him again after high school graduation. We always managed to attend Class of '51 reunions, in different years, thus missing each other.
When he became ill, I wrote him a number of times. I wanted to tell him that my son played football at UNM where he played. My boy was a Lobo field goal kicker for three years. I told him of some favorite hymns of mine, and class news. He couldn't write back, but his wife did. I also told him in a humorous vein that the old "frogs" he had given me had finally all gone away, by the '70's, but I wished I had a couple of new ones from him for old time's sake!
Now, one time I made up my mind that this fun thing would be a two-way deal. One day Mil gets it...and the next day it would be Engle's turn. (Imagine my prestige soaring---seen bopping Engle on the arm in the hallway!) So when FROG/ARM time came that day, we somehow got into a friendly scuffle...a fracas...a minor melee. I had my sharp yellow Dixon Ticonderoga # 2 lead Spanish-Three-"Amalia"- translating-pencil (cost a nickel in those days) sticking up out of my shirt pocket, eraser down--lead up so as not to damage my shirt.
This pencil turned out to be in a bad spot, for it somehow, in the scuffle, stabbed me under the wrist, and a teensy piece of lead broke off into my wrist. I being "injured," the kerfuffle ended, and we parted, to await the next afternoon.
Here's the thing---the little injured place got well, but that black dot stayed under my skin for many years. Very small place, but I never saw it that I didn't remember Engle, and with great fondness. We had some good laughs in high school days together. We didn't buddy around but were friends.
The years came and went and I never saw him again after high school graduation. We always managed to attend Class of '51 reunions, in different years, thus missing each other.
When he became ill, I wrote him a number of times. I wanted to tell him that my son played football at UNM where he played. My boy was a Lobo field goal kicker for three years. I told him of some favorite hymns of mine, and class news. He couldn't write back, but his wife did. I also told him in a humorous vein that the old "frogs" he had given me had finally all gone away, by the '70's, but I wished I had a couple of new ones from him for old time's sake!
When he passed away, his brother phoned me.
About that time, I noticed that the black spot under my wrist had faded away---the evidence of that long ago kerfuffle in the hall at good old CHS. But you know, and this is the truth, I still sometimes look real closely for it...but no, it is gone.
About that time, I noticed that the black spot under my wrist had faded away---the evidence of that long ago kerfuffle in the hall at good old CHS. But you know, and this is the truth, I still sometimes look real closely for it...but no, it is gone.
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BY MIL
10/21/12
Sent from my iPad
So heartwarming, this nostalgic piece about Engle and the kerfuffle. I felt like I was there watching the frogging taking place.
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