Story #227
R. Linda:
You asked me how I got to be the way I am. I learned to be a scraper of sorts thanks to a Catholic nun of all people. I was a shy kid, and though me small abode was comfy, me father lost his job because the times were tough, and we had a few years of living on charity. Even though everyone around me was in the same condition, as a kid, you think your lot is always worse than anyone else. I was probably one of the youngest kids in me neighbourhood, and with so much angst, the older kids felt our situation more and took their anger out on the wee ones amongst them. That be me. Before I started school, I was used to being kicked down the street, left out of street games, and pretty much razzed for being tiny and the youngest.
When I started school, you can imagine me angst when I saw the street bullies had taken notice I was now amongst them in their fenced environment, and each night was spent restless as to what mischief they'd visit upon me. I hated me early school years as a result. Until I took Sister Mary Patrick's words to heart and found a way to get out of being the school target. She told me sometimes God turns his head when he knows a small child has to fight back like a big lad, and it would be all right for me to prove meself as long as I didn't turn the proving into bullying back.
But I was slight, I wasn't strong, and I learned to use me wit instead. It took me a long time to perfect that, but I did, and I was able to turn me place among the school masses around. No one believes me now, but it was true for me then.
Since you asked, I started this bit for you. Maybe it will give you a glimmer of what I felt then. I won't continue it; it's not necessary. This vignette is enough to provide you with an idea of the time.
Gabriel stood in the playground, mist swirling like ghosts around the play set. Rain was coming, and he could feel it. The schoolchildren stood in line, ready for the bell to ring, and filed into St. Mary's Christian School. He hugged the chain on the swing set tightly, his knuckles a pale white. Fear crept up his legs as he watched the others. One boy, Billy O'Neal, was making faces at him, and the others were laughing. Gabriel looked frantically for Sister Mary Patrick. Tears stung the back of his eyes because Billy was making his way over with the three bullies, and Gabriel knew what was coming.
"Hey ya twerp," Billy said, flipping the belt end on Gabriel's plaid coat, "ya sure look the wee sport ya do."
The others laughed and Gabriel wanted to melt into that plaid coat like a turtle inside it's shell.
"Yer mam buy that at the charity store fer ya?" Billy taunted. The other three laughed as Gabriel's mind flashed back to his mam. She had held his hand when they entered the church charity store. He had walked close to her in shuffling minced steps, afraid of the nun who stood sternly at the side watching the poor filter in. Her eyes seemed to focus on him. He looked away, hiding his face in his mother's side.
"Gabe, come on now, lad. I see just the ting fer ya," his mother said, pulling him to one of the clothing racks filled with coats of all sizes and colours. "Look here, Gabe. I tink dis one will fit ya. Let's have a try-on an' see."
She took the small plaid coat with the thick belt off the hanger and pulled it on him over his ratty sweater. She knelt down, buttoned it up, and pulled the belt tight.
"These buttons are not sturdy, but I'll sew 'em up when we git home. The belt is a nice touch doncha tink? And best, it be good an' warm."
No, he didn't like the belt. It was too tight and didn't really fit. He thought he'd get rid of it once he was out of her sight.
They paid the nun with a voucher, and Gabe stole a glance at the black-and-white nun's habit but not at Sister's face. He knew she disapproved of him and his mother, and he wanted to stand up to her and shout, "Me mam is a good person! She can't help me fathah be out of a job!" But he couldn't do it, so he obediently followed his mother outside, wearing the plaid coat with the tight belt.
Now, he stood in front of Billy and the lads. They were tugging on the belt and making fun of it. It was sewn into the coat, so Gabriel couldn't rid himself of it.
"Ye look like a girl, ya do! It be a girls coat," Billy said his voice filled with scorn.
"I be not a girl, and it's not a girl's coat!"
More laughter, and then the shoving about started. Everyone in the lines waiting to get inside turned to watch the bullies begin pushing the small child in the plaid coat around. The bell rang just as Gabriel saw Billy's knuckles turning into a fist. The lines moved inside as Sister Mary Patrick came to stand outside, making sure order reigned. Billy gave Gabriel a shove, "We'll see yer arse at recess, Gab ree L," Billy sneered and, with his friends, ran to the back of the line, leaving Gabriel pale and shaken.
The nun had seen the shove and knew her most minor charge was a target of taunts from the bigger, older boys. She watched in silent disapproval as Billy and the three big lads filed past. None looked at her, and she sighed, knowing her stern glare of warning was for nought. She looked to where Gabriel was standing, shaking a little and shook her head. His reluctance to stand up for himself slightly annoyed her. She knew if he fought back, he'd get the respect of the older lads for it. Unfortunately, a wee bit of bloodletting always got a lad accepted into the group; she knew this first-hand, but her wee charge had no clue.
"Coom on," she called, annoyance in her voice.
Slowly, Gabriel shuffled towards her and the door, looking at his worn brown shoes, the soles flapping, and trying not to look at the edge of his plaid coat—the very coat his mother picked because it would keep him from chilling and the one the boys made all manner of fun of. He stole a glance up at Sister as he passed. She had a faint smile for him, and a gentle hand caught his shoulder.
"Ye are made of finer stuff than Billy O'Neal gives ye credit for lad. Ye must learn to open yer mouth and use yer fists. I know they be bigger and louder, but Gabriel, if ye are to make anything of yourself in this life, in this place, ye got to stand up lad. I know I shouldn't be telling ye to fight and give hard knocks; the Lord wouldn't like it, but laddie, me own brothers had to just to get along. You need think on me words Gabriel, give them a long hard thought because of where you live and who ye are."
Gabriel looked in awe at her and nodded as she guided him inside.
Gabe
Copyright © 2008 All rights reserved
R. Linda:
You asked me how I got to be the way I am. I learned to be a scraper of sorts thanks to a Catholic nun of all people. I was a shy kid, and though me small abode was comfy, me father lost his job because the times were tough, and we had a few years of living on charity. Even though everyone around me was in the same condition, as a kid, you think your lot is always worse than anyone else. I was probably one of the youngest kids in me neighbourhood, and with so much angst, the older kids felt our situation more and took their anger out on the wee ones amongst them. That be me. Before I started school, I was used to being kicked down the street, left out of street games, and pretty much razzed for being tiny and the youngest.
When I started school, you can imagine me angst when I saw the street bullies had taken notice I was now amongst them in their fenced environment, and each night was spent restless as to what mischief they'd visit upon me. I hated me early school years as a result. Until I took Sister Mary Patrick's words to heart and found a way to get out of being the school target. She told me sometimes God turns his head when he knows a small child has to fight back like a big lad, and it would be all right for me to prove meself as long as I didn't turn the proving into bullying back.
But I was slight, I wasn't strong, and I learned to use me wit instead. It took me a long time to perfect that, but I did, and I was able to turn me place among the school masses around. No one believes me now, but it was true for me then.
Since you asked, I started this bit for you. Maybe it will give you a glimmer of what I felt then. I won't continue it; it's not necessary. This vignette is enough to provide you with an idea of the time.
Gabriel stood in the playground, mist swirling like ghosts around the play set. Rain was coming, and he could feel it. The schoolchildren stood in line, ready for the bell to ring, and filed into St. Mary's Christian School. He hugged the chain on the swing set tightly, his knuckles a pale white. Fear crept up his legs as he watched the others. One boy, Billy O'Neal, was making faces at him, and the others were laughing. Gabriel looked frantically for Sister Mary Patrick. Tears stung the back of his eyes because Billy was making his way over with the three bullies, and Gabriel knew what was coming.
"Hey ya twerp," Billy said, flipping the belt end on Gabriel's plaid coat, "ya sure look the wee sport ya do."
The others laughed and Gabriel wanted to melt into that plaid coat like a turtle inside it's shell.
"Yer mam buy that at the charity store fer ya?" Billy taunted. The other three laughed as Gabriel's mind flashed back to his mam. She had held his hand when they entered the church charity store. He had walked close to her in shuffling minced steps, afraid of the nun who stood sternly at the side watching the poor filter in. Her eyes seemed to focus on him. He looked away, hiding his face in his mother's side.
"Gabe, come on now, lad. I see just the ting fer ya," his mother said, pulling him to one of the clothing racks filled with coats of all sizes and colours. "Look here, Gabe. I tink dis one will fit ya. Let's have a try-on an' see."
She took the small plaid coat with the thick belt off the hanger and pulled it on him over his ratty sweater. She knelt down, buttoned it up, and pulled the belt tight.
"These buttons are not sturdy, but I'll sew 'em up when we git home. The belt is a nice touch doncha tink? And best, it be good an' warm."
No, he didn't like the belt. It was too tight and didn't really fit. He thought he'd get rid of it once he was out of her sight.
They paid the nun with a voucher, and Gabe stole a glance at the black-and-white nun's habit but not at Sister's face. He knew she disapproved of him and his mother, and he wanted to stand up to her and shout, "Me mam is a good person! She can't help me fathah be out of a job!" But he couldn't do it, so he obediently followed his mother outside, wearing the plaid coat with the tight belt.
Now, he stood in front of Billy and the lads. They were tugging on the belt and making fun of it. It was sewn into the coat, so Gabriel couldn't rid himself of it.
"Ye look like a girl, ya do! It be a girls coat," Billy said his voice filled with scorn.
"I be not a girl, and it's not a girl's coat!"
More laughter, and then the shoving about started. Everyone in the lines waiting to get inside turned to watch the bullies begin pushing the small child in the plaid coat around. The bell rang just as Gabriel saw Billy's knuckles turning into a fist. The lines moved inside as Sister Mary Patrick came to stand outside, making sure order reigned. Billy gave Gabriel a shove, "We'll see yer arse at recess, Gab ree L," Billy sneered and, with his friends, ran to the back of the line, leaving Gabriel pale and shaken.
The nun had seen the shove and knew her most minor charge was a target of taunts from the bigger, older boys. She watched in silent disapproval as Billy and the three big lads filed past. None looked at her, and she sighed, knowing her stern glare of warning was for nought. She looked to where Gabriel was standing, shaking a little and shook her head. His reluctance to stand up for himself slightly annoyed her. She knew if he fought back, he'd get the respect of the older lads for it. Unfortunately, a wee bit of bloodletting always got a lad accepted into the group; she knew this first-hand, but her wee charge had no clue.
"Coom on," she called, annoyance in her voice.
Slowly, Gabriel shuffled towards her and the door, looking at his worn brown shoes, the soles flapping, and trying not to look at the edge of his plaid coat—the very coat his mother picked because it would keep him from chilling and the one the boys made all manner of fun of. He stole a glance up at Sister as he passed. She had a faint smile for him, and a gentle hand caught his shoulder.
"Ye are made of finer stuff than Billy O'Neal gives ye credit for lad. Ye must learn to open yer mouth and use yer fists. I know they be bigger and louder, but Gabriel, if ye are to make anything of yourself in this life, in this place, ye got to stand up lad. I know I shouldn't be telling ye to fight and give hard knocks; the Lord wouldn't like it, but laddie, me own brothers had to just to get along. You need think on me words Gabriel, give them a long hard thought because of where you live and who ye are."
Gabriel looked in awe at her and nodded as she guided him inside.
Gabe
Copyright © 2008 All rights reserved
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