Monday, May 12, 2008
Why is it that every time I sub for a social studies class, the assignment is to watch a video on WWII that shows nothing but footage from the concentration camps, including the crying faces of children being separated from their mothers?
It was the summer of 1981 or 82. I had just turned 10 or 11 and it was one of those days that it was too hot to do much except to scheme and plan against your adversaries (as one has many when you are that age). My best friend and I donned a pair of nylons (these were not just any nylons-these were the kinds that were made in the 1980s-really thick and really tan and really shiny) and a pair of short shorts and started to walk over to Kristen's (my deepest and most loathed enemy-I don't know why) house. We saw her playing outside and wanted to make her jealous of how tan our legs were. We were ten-year olds not to be reckoned with. We laughed, tossed our heads and bent down several times to "scratch" our legs. The best part about it was that she was a year younger than us so she didn't notice our most uneven "tan" (our stark white arms and face and very dark legs). She didn't notice the immense shine glowing from our legs. She just noticed that we were older and had beautiful tans and she did not. We won. The day was a victory for us. But not for long. She went inside and pulled an ice-cold can of pop (we were not allowed to drink pop) and brought it outside and drank it right in front of us. The gall!