Running Away from Home

How old do you have to be to run away from home? It’s been a long time since I’ve had to ask myself that question.

After I first went to my doctor with stomach complaints and a high fever, he scheduled additional tests, the results of which didn’t turn out the way I or the doctor had expected.

Seems I’m one in a thousand. Lucky me. On the way home from having the “Procedure” done as an outpatient, I wondered. Just how old do you have to be to run away?

Somehow I’ve escaped the emotional scarring of childhood – the scarring some of my friends tell me they still suffer from.

My parents weren’t alcoholics. They didn’t abuse us. Dad only spanked us when we really deserved it. Many a bolo paddle was broken over our backsides, but never in anger. Our parents didn’t farm us out to be watched by strangers; mom was our only babysitter.

For the most part, we had a perfectly normal childhood and a perfectly normal family.

Well, except for Twin Brother Mark. He was anything but normal. Even so, there have been several times while growing up when life got too much for me to handle. I just wanted to run away.

The Christmas when I turned 5 was the first time I remember wanting to run away. I just knew Santa had gotten my letter and under the tree would be my train. The Lionel train I saw at the Woolworth’s blew its whistle and shot real smoke out of its coal stack! In another box would be the conductor’s hat, and I’d wear it all day.

Christmas day I ran over to the tree, found my gifts and tore open the packages. My face was crestfallen - no train. I had gotten a set of wood Tinker Toys and a Slinky instead.

To making things worse, by the end of the week my three brothers had either broken or lost most of the 75-piece set.

I was going to run away but Dad convinced me otherwise. My birthday was only a few months off; no telling what I would get.

My birthday came and wouldn’t you know it, I got that Lionel train. My brothers got also got something: strict instructions from Dad that they weren’t supposed to play with it. Things seem to work themselves out if you just give them enough time.

The next time I felt like running away was in the fifth grade. Down the Street Bully Brad beat the tar out of me on the playground in front of the whole class.

Looking up at him sitting on my chest about to hit me in the face again, I though I was going to die right there. Would have too if it wasn’t for that bone-crushing tackle from Bubba Hanks. They rolled around like two behemoths; in the end Bully Brad ran off and I was saved.

I was so embarrassed I wanted to run off too, but Bubba convinced me otherwise. Seems he had a plan. The next week he helped me load Brad’s gym shorts with itching powder.

Bradley Macalister itched so much during recess that he was out of school for two days. Things seem to work themselves out if you have some help from your friends.

After the eighth grade Homecoming football game there was the Homecoming dance. The dance was the biggest event of the year and held in the school gym.

I made the mistake of asking Candi Simpson, my elementary school sweetheart and the most popular girl in the eighth grade. She was very sweet, but said no. Seems she already had a date.

I thought I would die when word got out that I had asked her. The teasing was relentless and I just knew she said no because of the way I looked.

Did I mention that my nickname at the time was “Crater Face”? I really wanted to run away, but how could I run away from myself?

All during the eighth grade I had quite possibly the worst case of acne any kid could have. Mom reassured me things would get better, that my face would clear up. Mom was right, it finally did. But it took till midway through my senior year to do so.

Candi did go out with me though, in the ninth, tenth, eleventh, and twelfth grade. Seems she really didn’t care what I looked like, she just liked me. Given enough time, things seem to work themselves out, even a really bad case of acne.

We got home, I went to bed, and The Wife nursed me back to health. In a few days everything was back to normal. Well, as normal as things can get around our house.

A couple of follow-up visits with the doc and seems everything’s gonna be all right. That’s a good thing. We just built a new house and I would like to live in it for awhile before having to run away.