I have a small scar underneath my eyebrow on my right toward the my nose. I got it when I was around six or seven years old.

Before my parents were divorced I lived near the elementary school I attended in a small orange brick rental house. I remember my mom saying that she was renting from the garbage man.

In fact, I believe that was the reason we eventually had to move into the trailer park. The landlord’s son needed a house. (This is all irrelevant information to all of you but my son, so feel free to disregard!)

Anyway my neighbors on one side has two daughters and two sons. One of the girls, Joy Lynn, was two years older than me. My neighbor on the other side had two boys, Kenny and Billy Fitzgerald.

Joy and I spent a lot of time hanging out and playing with Kenny and Billy and occasionally we would get in a fight with them too. One day, I got really mad at Kenny (I don’t remember why) but I remember chasing him over to his house and, when I got there, I picked up one of those big fat wiffle ball bats, backed him up against the wall of his house, and hit him across his chest with it.

And yes, I realize that this point that I could seriously hurt someone but, like I said, I was six or seven years old.

Of course Kenny was around the same age, so it probably did hurt him. Even if it didn’t, I do know it made him mad.

I dropped the bat, and took off running. When I got to my driveway I turned around to see where he was. He was at the edge of the driveway picking up a rock to throw at me. Our entire driveway was rock so this wasn’t the first time that he had thrown rocks at me and I would duck to avoid being hit.

The only thing I can figure is that when he picked up a rock at that moment, he knew it was a bigger one because he threw it downward… or maybe he just couldn’t throw a heavier one as high at that age. 🙂 Regardless, I ducked as usual and when I did it hit me just above my eye.

I remember it hurting and I remember seeing blood all over my shirt when I looked down. I started screaming and ran to the house. My dad came to see what I was screaming about and when he saw all the blood he laid me on my back on the kitchen table and put a towel over it while he called the doctor.

I don’t remember whether my mom or my dad took me to the emergency room. All I remember is being at the emergency room with some nurse holding me down and coming at my eye with a needle… VERY scary! I know now they were trying to numb it so they could put in stitches, but back then, and certainly at that age, no one was explaining what they were doing in the medical field… They just did it.

But I digress.

The moral of the story: If you’re big enough to hit a guy with a bat, you better be big enough to take the return blow! Oh, and for what it’s worth, I’m really sorry Kenny.

Warm regards,

p.s. No, I’m not one of the “mean girls”… but I can be! =)