In January, 1991.

DIARY

In winter of 1991 there was a fierce snowstorm. I remember because this was when Shane Cleveland and I invented our game "push the kid in the snow."

"Push the kid in the snow" was similar to King of the Mountain more than it was to schoolyard bullies, although I think we liked to think the name made us sound tough. And to his credit, if I remember correctly, Cleveland went on to get into a certain amount more trouble in the years ahead.

Essentially Shane and I loudly occupied a heap of slush and snow several feet high at the edge of the paved play space. The play space included markings for four square, a jungle gym, swings, slides, that sort of thing, though we were free to use the whole area cleared area outside the school (when it was light out, we'd play touch football, until the chaperones weren't looking and we tackled). This was a prime location, because Shane and I had access to the kids both on the pavement and off.

We'd then systematically yell insults at anyone we thought we could plausibly take. This policy was more clever that it may seem at first. The real troublemakers had been exiled to detention for pretty much the whole school year at this point, whereas most of the really athletic boys (Mark and Jeremy and Agust, etc.) considered shoving around a snow pile beneath them. (Though I did provoke Agust into punching me later that year, and fully deserved it.)

Most of my closer friends (Brad, Ryan, and Tim, etc.) while fit enough, didn't really think mixing it up with some kids during their fifteen minutes of freedom per day was worth it either. And of course, girls were off limits. Of course.

The upshot of all this was that Shane and I ended up wrestling a bunch of hotheaded, bark-worse-than-bite, fifth and sixth graders, that thought that they could somehow give us enough misery that we'd stop yelling at them.

It was a good game, while it lasted. Everyone involved ended up wet, cold, and bruised by the time we'd march back inside, single-file. Despite the fact that we called each-other poor, fat, and smelly, (and you can bet everyone's mom was involved as well) nobody seemed genuinely pissed off.

The game lasted for three days. After that Shane and I both wound up in detention. Our teachers had decided that missed homework should equate to missed recess, which is fine in theory, but what do twelve-year old boys (because it was almost entirely boys) do with all that extra energy?

Soon I'd be in over my head in completely new ways.

* * * * *

What were you up to in January 1991?

END OF POST.