Striking the First Blow

I should have stayed away from the lead based paint chips on the windowsill of that old millhouse we used to live in on sixth street when I was three. They tasted so sweet though. I remember Daddy washing out my mouth, and busting my butt at the same time.

Now, I don’t know if I ate enough of that paint to get lead poisoning. I remember getting a super high fever not long after that, and my eyes crossed so badly Mom said I looked plum pitiful. I don’t remember ever looking in a mirror, so I can’t confirm that statement. I think it mad me meaner that summer. I remember throwing tantrums at home, and throwing rocks at my equally mean and slightly older neighbor Gerri Lynn. I think I stayed a little mean for a few more years.

After we moved to Simmons Street when I was five, I used to play with a kid just two doors down from me named Billy. We got mad at each other one day about something and I slugged him a good one right in the nose. Blood started gushing everywhere and scared me poopless. I thought I had killed the boy and turned around and ran like my tail was on fire back past Jake Woods house to ours.

That afternoon my Dad explained to me in no uncertain terms that it wasn’t right to throw the first blow..only in defense. My sore butt didn’t hurt me nearly as much as my conscious. I was truly sorrowful for what I had done. Dad took me down to the Arden’s house the next day and made me apologize.

I didn’t realize it at the time but that incident set the timber of my personality for the rest of my life. I have never since that day, through anger or strife struck “the first blow” I would and will defend myself and my family, but I will not start a fight.

I will remember that philosophy from here on out, and try and adhere to it here on Facebook also. Peace.

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