No Worries redux (302 hits)
Category: GeneralRating: -0.33 on 4 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by Dan Theman (Oh boy, he's original) (View user info) at 2006-09-27 23:11:43 EDT
I don't post on here anymore but I'd like to see if I still have my fastball. If I ever had one to begin with. This is a rewrite of a story I've posted before.
Be harsh as you'd like, online insults don't bother me, I'm a sensible human being. Critique the writing though. Please.
No Worries
Third grade was a very stressful time for me.
Most kids in third grade are concerned with who won the recess kickball game. I was worried about if I would get the fingerpainting project done on time. I was worrying about if the class bully was going to target me for the day and take my lunch, which prompted me to insist that my mother fix me two sandwiches in case such a situation ever arose. To say the least, 3rd Grade Danny was a wreck.
I used to walk around with the weight of the world upon my little, underdeveloped shoulders. Imagine that: a 3rd grade boy; someone who should be discovering the world, finding joy in every little thing... going through his mid-life crisis at the age of 8. I had numerous sleepless nights, and there were times where I would burst out into tears in the middle of class.
Enter Social Worker #1, #2, #3, ad infinitum. It was the same routine for about 6 weeks: they would pull me out of class during Gym or whatever the non-academic was for the day, and ask me questions; give me these simple tasks to do. It was all round-peg-square-hole type of stuff. I don't think I was giving them much to work with; being an 8 year old boy, you kind of have an ingrown need to run around and get skinned knees. I wanted out!
As one could expect, they made no progress with me and defaulted to prescription medicine. It's always medicine. Ritalin, Adderall, or whatever it's being called these days is the biggest cop-out of this era. "If the kid ain't right, and you can't figure it out, put him on the meds." Simple. Cleans up the mess that the kid is. It also saves the person on the case from looking like a blithering idiot.
One day, I was routinely pulled from class, only to see my Mom and Dad at the end of the hallway to pick me up. Dad was in his shirt and tie—he's a phone systems salesman. This must have been a big deal if he skipped out of work. They said they were taking me out to lunch. I was excited and suggested McDonald's. At the Wendy's (hey, can't win 'em all) my parents explained that they met with the social worker du jour, and being the awesome people that they are, categorically refused to place me on the medication regimen. Did I say that I love my parents?
The rest of the year scraped by without much assistance from the school, since we didn't buy into their "solution". I didn't need them anyways. I had my Aunt Barbara. God bless that woman.
Aunt Barbara is the reason why I'm not afraid of my own shadow right now. She passed away when I was in the 7th grade from lung cancer; but for the short years that I was in her company, she unwittingly did the single greatest thing a human being could have done for me in my lifetime.
Being the second Mother that she was to me, she got her little sis's (my Mom's) permission to take me out of school on a random day in June to go to the beach. She was spontaneous like that. She lived life on her terms. I loved that about her, hell, I still do.
So it was Aunt Barb and me cruising the Garden State Parkway South in her little matchbox of a car, windows down, music up, on our way to the shore. She even let me sit in the passenger seat! How cool is that?
Remember that thing about her being spontaneous? She pulled off of the Parkway into the small, rural town of Howell. My grandparents lived there, so it was nothing new for me to be around there, I thought nothing of it. I was too caught up that it was Wednesday and all the other boys and girls were learning how to carry the ones place over when you add 3 digit numbers together.
Then she took a detour. We did some fancy driving and we finally ended up at this small little postcard picture looking farm. Clover Hill, I think it's called. Aunt Barbara then pulled the car to the side of the road and said "Boom, come here and look at this." She called me 'Boom' because it was short for Boomer. Don't ask me how she came up with the name. I never questioned it; it just seemed to fit.
She grabbed me up out of my throne of a passenger seat and held my hand as we crossed the street. I reminded her to look both ways; because that's what the police officer told us the week before at assembly. We arrived at this small little pen that housed goats.
"Danny, do you see those goats?"
I nodded in affirmation. I saw those goats.
"What do those goats have to worry about? Nothing! Those goats don't have a care in the world! They just sit around, eat and have a great old time! Look at those goats!"
And I did. I looked at them for a while. And I felt all the stresses and worries that had built up over the last year seem to dissipate. I felt lighter.
"Whenever you feel like the world is crashing down on you, and you feel sad, think of those goats. No worries."
That day, even if I didn't know it yet, would stick with me for the rest of my life. "No worries" has become my personal mantra. It's my little mental escape from all the B.S. that life tends to throw at you at times.
The phrase has seemed to take on more meaning over the years. Before, it was just goats and words. Now I think about what they stand for, the immense love that Aunt B. had for me; her genuine interest in me feeling better.
Each and every day, and more often recently, I've said "Thank You" to her up in heaven. I wish she was still around just so I could tell her in person, but what she had done for me in that simple gesture of showing me some farm animals, I'm not very sure I will ever be able to completely articulate the complete gratitude I have towards it, to another person in this lifetime.
No Worries.
Thank you,
-dan
User Reviews
Submitted by Gingerly (user info) at 2006-09-28 00:33:14 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Formatting.
Submitted by Amontillado (user info) at 2006-09-27 23:19:13 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
The title reminded me of Terry Pratchett's The Last Continent.
Submitted by Wickedriser (user info) at 2006-09-27 23:18:55 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Should I format the text? Is it that much of a bother to you people who know their way around this site? I'm basically like a newbie at this stuff again. I've been living a real life lately.
Submitted by GodChicken (user info) at 2006-09-27 23:13:48 EDT (#)
Ranking: -1
You left once, you should probably leave again.
Also, big block o'text FUCKING SUCKS MY ASS.