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Saturday, December 5, 2009

The Wonder Years
My wonder years were probably from age 13 to 16 or 46 (kidding). They marked a wondering of so: who am I? How am I gonna fit in this world, what do I do? How do I make and keep friends? What should I do at a dance or party, can someone teach me the jitter bug? Why in tarnation, do I have to wear a bra? How does one behave in junior high. What are the rules of the middle finger and those new words like f*#^, a#^*, b*^#@#, and f@%$**. And what about boys? How do I go about growing up? The wonder years, ...ahh and what the heck is sex all about? yuk, well maybe not.

7th grade, Mr. Hennig's class, in the desk right behind me sat a boy named Alex Murchison. He would talk through class pretty much directly in my ear. He told me about himself, what he did that past evening or over the weekend, and so on. He led an interesting life, I guess cuz', I listened, with wonder, wow, I thought, he talks to me like I am a person, a friend, hmm, wow! Alex Murchison was the first boy that spoke to me in a way that was not goofy, teasing, or just plain stupid. He did not stare, or poke, or find ways to make me hate him, he was kind, thoughtful, interesting, and chatty as hell. Now, that's refreshing I thought. Time went on, we would see each other in class, he'd chat, I listened, then one day after class, he asked if he could walk me home from school, and carry my books. Wow! I, of course, said yes. We met and walked home, I got to talk a bit this time, he asked me about myself, what I liked and so on. It was nice also great to not carry my books. We must have spoken about the flat tire on my bike, because when we got to my house, he went right to work and fixed it. That was cool to me, I was impressed, he was sweet. We became fast friends, he would wait for me after swim practice and walk me home, he would wait for me at girl scouts and walk me home, We talked on the phone (a lot). I liked our friendship. I lived in a neighborhood with many boys, grew up mostly playing with boys, baseball in the street, tag on front lawns, hide and seek...all of that silly stuff. I was used to having boys as friends. The friendship with Alex felt very nice for me, natural. We seemed to not be on the same page and there were, interestingly to me, ups and downs. Geeze, everytime I would talk or dance with another boy, or go out with a guy, he would stop talking to me. What the heck? I had a bunch of different guys in my life, like from scouting, after school activities, etc. Why was my friend, Alex getting mad? It was beyond me. I just did not understand him. Eventually, he'd get over it, come around and we'd be back to being buddies again. He would come over, and we'd get an ice cream, or take a bike ride or sit on my front steps and talk. It was nice to have him as a friend, he looked after me, he cared about me. We had fun, I would go to his dive meets, he would go to my swim meet. In the summer we would swim at the town pool everyday. We hung out with a bunch of other kids that swam on the teams. Ravenous after practice, we'd all pile into a local pizza shop and devour a pizzas, (I could eat a small one all by myself). We go to local hamburger joint for french fries and coke. We'd listen to the juke box, laugh and fool around. Life was simple and fun. This is our beginning, our wonder years together. We were 12 and 13 then. Then things changed in 8th and 9th grade. (to be continued...soon, promise)