Mrs. Wilson was stooped when she walked, she wore grey clothes, she seemed pinched: a grumpy old woman who walked with a cane. She was my fifth grade teacher and I and others who were considered troubled or trouble makers were sent to her class. We heard she would not allow acting out. And I entered Mrs. Wilsons class I looked around, it all seemed pretty similar. Slowly over the year no one got too rowdy. Once, I got caught running up and down the stairs. My mother was only called once to hear about me. It was all pretty quiet. Mrs. Wilson worked her fear. We were controlled but our silent acknowledgement led to being covert, and unified. We would pool our money and sneak out to buy candy that we would share. That sugar rush that added to my food addiction. Candy, food an important distraction: the boredom, controlled deadness could be perverted. A saving evil.
The good was that most of us were graduated to Mr. Becker's class. The first teacher that took a interest in us after school. Sports particularly helped us. That is when I first saw Richie Brown hit a baseball. I had seem Richie before in Mrs. Wilson's class and in different activities, though we did share winning the color war, a crayon drawing, But his hitting was a revelation. I was struggling to be coordinated but Richie had no trouble being amazing. He could hit the ball to the deepest outfield, he could have ran the bases twice.
I was in the batters box. Waiting for my turn. Richie Brown was batting third. He could hit. I was so pumped to hit that ball. And then once again Richie hit that ball to the deepest part of the schoolyard. I had never seem an adult hit it that far. He was eleven . I knew I would hit the same except I dribbled the ball to the right. I swung as hard as Richie Brown. What made him so great and me so poor. And what effect did this have on me? I would continue to try throughout my sports career to excel and ultimately I did well in basketball and track. And Richie Brown continued being the great natural athlete he was. But what was the difference between hitting well and not. I would think about this as an adult and knew finally it was hand eye connection. I swung late and didn't evaluate the balls speed and adjust for when the bat would hit the ball. Somehow RB knew this and I didn't. Was it simple as genetics or did someone coach him? I asked RB this question as an adult.
No Richie said, it was just something he was born with. I believe my over zealousness had something to do with it. I was super anxious to do something. Later I realized it was to get noticed. Nothing except being invisible at home led me to over try and not be aware of timing. Richie Brown knew timing.
It all happened over fifty years ago and yet the closeness I felt during my early years stays important. It gave us all the knowledge that instinctively it felt good to be connected. Sports did more. It gave us an outlet to express our frustration with our culture. No we would not reach the top of the pyramid but we would enjoy each others company and form bonds that would last a lifetime. Friendship was instinctive movement of the Orgone. Understanding is waiting within.
