It’s been awhile, Since I’ve been gone. Deal with it. I’ll get to my petty excuses when I feel like it.
Perhaps.
But today, on the eve of my departure to New Hampshire, I’m filled with joyful memories of my childhood. Of which I’d like to share one in particular. A joyful moment in time. Like the wall paintings that line old cave homes. these are etched within my head and on display in my own personal museum.
Stuck really. I wasn’t trying to actually hold onto these things.
Over the River and Through the Woods…
It was a mid winters day in a remote area of northern Vermont. The sun was a bright grey blur in the sky and you could barely see the headlights of a car coming down the long road because the wind would blow the sand and snow into walls of grey. That road leading to more roads along pastures and woods which then lead to more roads along pastures and woods. Over and over again. The fields were white with the snow and the occasional fence post or batch of dead grass that had found its final pose dried in a golden hue. The dirt roads were frozen wastelands of dusty patches and snow patches spotted with pot holes and ice puddles. The wind was constant, blowing up the dust from the bare patches in the road and mixing it with the snow drifts formed by the sides. Dust and snow flakes formed into a dance of numerous couples that would twist across the white backdrop, only to fade away into grey.
In other words: It was seriously fucking cold out.
My ten-year old bare feet were hitting that dirty road with no mercy. The gravel would sting when I stepped on it and choices needed to be made. I could step on the snow spots and hopefully avoid the rocks or just suck it up and deal with it. Since there was no guarantee the snow would offer protection, I did the most logical thing. Watch out.
I distinctly recall this thought because I remember looking at my feet and remember the pajamas as they were flailing out of the pj legs as I ran as fast as little pasty chicken legs could take me. They came up to my waist and where primarily white with little yellow zig zag patterns up the legs with intermittent blue and red dots. I don’t recall specifically but I’m sure I had a good ole’ fashioned pair of tighty whities on underneath. Or rather, you could assume they were more of a loosey yellies if we are to use the same analogy today. That’s part of a larger tale of joy perhaps we can explore another time.
I had no shirt, nor scarf or any other protective clothing. It was me, my yellies, and pj bottoms. I was hell-bent on my destination of which I actually no had no real clue other than a general sense of direction. I got about a quarter-mile before I was hit from behind and thrown face first into the snow and gravel mix. The rocks tore into my chest and chin and my arm into a puddle covered by thin ice.
At ten years old, I was a wiry, pasty, seventy pounds of imagination. None of that was going to be helpful.
It had started out as any other Northern New England winters day. The weekend had arrived, it was cold out and I was stuck inside. Not much to do but play with some toys and wait it out until Spring. My sister was doing whatever it is that big sisters do prior to suddenly having their attention taken by the smallest detail you can think of. When their little illogical minds are trying to process the information around them and suddenly they can’t grasp any further logic for more than three seconds, their system needs to stop completely and start again slowly. (We normal people would call this a brain fart, for a big sister this is called a “reboot and kill small sibling initiative”. This must occur before any real thought process can begin again.)
Helpful hints for ten-year old boys with a bigger sister and no adult supervision:
THE REBOOT
There is no warning sign when this is about to occur. There is some speculation that animals can see this coming and leave the room rather suddenly but that is only theory. Even if it were true, by the time the animal has bolted from the room, you would then have approximately 1.7 seconds to absorb the information, process the clue and relate it to the incoming threat. By this time, roughly 1.3 seconds, you will feel the vibration of the footsteps as they come closer. 1.1 Seconds second thud of a foot coming closer. This is when the brain will acknowledge this as a footstep and much louder. .09 seconds as your head begins to turn towards the incoming noise and vibration, third thump of a foot hitting the floor even closer. Thoughts of the animal that had left have all been put aside which is unfortunate because this was the first vital clue in predicting your imminent future. .07 seconds: head is almost fully turned, eyes focusing, current brain transmission “hunh?”. .05 eyes focused, brain acknowledges there’s a person, you recognize her as your sister, she looks mad and she’s coming at you really fast. .03 She’s not stopping, she looks really mad, she’s getting ready to swing! .02 Evasive maneuvers! Evasive maneuvers! .01 Stupid cat. .00
Impact
Frasiers down!
As God is my witness, this is exactly what happened. No shit.
She then proceeded to grasp me by my billowing golden locks and dig in as she began to pummel me with her fists. I had been laying in a sheet when she had suddenly gone in to Reboot, which was an extremely difficult position to properly defend yourself or escape from. To this day, sheets terrify me. I need to be able to escape them quickly. DO NOT tuck in my side of the bed. Not the top, not the bottom and you damn well better not be touching the sides. Don’t toy with me.
When you’re in a sheet, it holds you down even more so you can’t get any foothold or get your arms out. You are at the mercy of your attacker. It’s not that they don’t love you, it’s just a defense mechanism when they start-up again. Bullshit. Don’t worry. The initial blast is as shocking to her as it is to you. When the fists of foo-foo first hit you, they will be coming in fast and hard but by number four or five, she will then start to acknowledge that you are also somewhat hard and bony. This will hurt and she will then start to “pull” her punches. This is not a sign of the end by any means. Do not let down your guard. This is the moment you need to be aware of. Just focus and we can get through this. She should stop by punch number eight or nine as she is beginning to tire. You need to realize this is merely the warm up. Get ready to move but lay still and in a fetal position to the best of your ability. She will then try to use her weight to push down on you causing as much misery to you as possible without expending more energy. When she realizes this is somewhat futile, she will then start to get up BUT will get one more really solid punch in as she is getting off you. This will be a pretty good one too so be prepared. Don’t tense up as this is a common mistake. She might give you a small kick as she starts to back off you, this will be moderate in strength but it a huge clue that this is the moment. Run little guy! RUN! You need to remove the sheet and go as quickly as possible. Don’t think about laying there and letting her wander off. She is not bored bear. She is a big sister in the middle of a Reboot. This is not a drill! This is not a drill! She is merely returning to the site of the original system crash. DO YOU UNDERSTAND? She is now returning to the initial site of the original cause of the reboot. That means she just might (try “most likely”) have/has a scratch on her record. CAPICHE? Run. Run now.
I got about another ten to twelve feet considering the sheet was fairly tight around me in the first place. I had rounded the stairs and had gotten about 2/3 into it when she got some scratches to my ankles and then a good solid grip on one. It had been the only plan. There was nowhere else to go. Run up the stairs into a bedroom and lock the door. Block the door and wait until Spring. Simple.
She was fast. Boy was she fast. You’d think that well endowed teenage girls didn’t like running. Well, those puppies didn’t slow her down at all. If anything they kinda became a gravitational force unto themselves and propelled her forward. And they could take corners. No, you sick little perv, my sisters ta-tas were not a source of sexual pleasure for me. They were an asset to my defense. They were large and easy to hit and just about at the right level for me to get a good solid shot in. I know if I could summon the force and catch her straight to the nipple it would cause enough pain to get her to let go. If I did miss the nipple the shot could still shake her slightly since they were fairly new to her too and she probably didn’t have the hang of how much pain they really did transfer causing her some shock. No guarantees on this one as my teen age breast punching research came to an abrupt end this very same year.
Another self-defense mechanism designed to repel the advancing big sister when in public is the shirt pull. This will almost always immediately result in all grips being released and a wide-eyed look of shock. This lasts about 1.4 seconds and is usually wasted due to the fact that when one of these techniques does work, it will astound and amaze you so you also become stuck. This maneuver will result in a very solid one shot to the most vital sensitive area she can reach quickly and effectively and she will do this within 1.5 seconds of your technique execution. As with all other moves and techniques, please remember execution is only half of the self-defense.
Remember:
1-EXECUTE
2-RUN
So she had me by the ankles on the stairs and began to pull me back down to the bottom where she then turned me around and grabbed my wrists. She pulled me across the floor to the front door and then out onto the porch. This was a screened in porch with plastic over the windows to keep the wind from blowing into it. The plastic was ripped in numerous places so it didn’t do a very good job of the wind but it still kept the snow out. Sorta. There was an old washer and dryer in the corner, some miscellaneous junk strewn about. Bikes, a love seat with an old quilt draped over it and a couple of tires. I remember these items because I once had to take the dirty quilt off the love seat and wrap up in it inside the dryer to stay warm.
She dragged me to the center of the porch, pointed and screamed miscellaneous threats and names and then went back into the house and locked the door. Wow. It was serious cold out. I began to pound on the door and window. The window was a piece of plexiglass. It hadn’t survived the other times she’d thrown me out. Eventually I would have to make a decision to break the glass to get in and so the adult s eventually replaced it with plexiglass. I suppose experiences like this have some good sides to them. I can now break into most items of a normal nature, ie- houses, cars, basic lock boxes and items kept locked. Life skills. Don’t worry, somehow I walked away with morales.
My banging had no effect. She wasn’t going to let me in and made it clear that if I broke something, she was going to call mom. I thought that was a great idea! Call mom! I dare you. Nope. She wouldn’t. So I decided it was time to go and tell her myself. So I screamed through the door, “I getting Mom!”, and off into the snow I went.
Pissed. O yeah. I was angry to the point the snow and cold meant nothing. I was going and no one was stopping me. I tromped down the yard and across the driveway and out into the road. I didn’t really know where she lived. I knew the road she came down when she came to visit but had no idea where it was. That had no matter. I’d figure it out as I went. I knew the first few roads. Probably only ten to twenty miles or so.
I was zipping along quite furiously and had gotten a considerable distance when she tackled me from behind pushing me into the dirt and ice. This was a tackle straight from the NFL. From behind and no warning. Blam! Skid into the gravel and then the hair grab followed by the obligatory face into the ground. Pull back on the hair and repeat.
Upon demand that I return to the house, I quickly agreed. Not because I was backing down. Not because I wasn’t going to do what I’d set out to do or because of her threats. I did it because my nipples had gotten iced. Think about it. Have you ever seen someone who was supper angry stay angry after you put ice on their nipples? Don’t believe me? Next time you come across some one that’s really pissed, put ice on their nipples and watch the reaction. They can’t stay mad. It’s a scientific fact based off studies done by a tribe listed as one of the top ten tribes “evah” by National Geographic. Try it on yourself. It works:)
Apparently her Reboot was succesful this time around and a wonderful rest of the day was had by all.
The moral of the story?
Merry Christmas to all the good little boys. Girls have cooties.
Fin
