Enlightenment and Nachos

OK, so here’s what I remember about the essay: it was an extra credit assignment. It was given before a holiday. I did it, used it toward a merit badge, and then wore my uniform from the scouts to the photo shoot at the school where I received my reward for winning this—district-wide essay contest. I do. Remember the photographer mentioning that all the high school kids in their English classes had to do this as a project, and I was given the entire assignment as extra credit. That’s not a flex. That’s just my memory of the occasion.

 I am trying to find proof of this event in the microfilms from the local paper. My mother does remember me wearing the uniform and going to take the photo. She remembers that I got a $50 certificate of deposit. It wasn’t going to fully mature and hit $50 until I hit 18. I was like, that’s an excellent way to give a child a nine-year-old fifty bucks. Smart move in the 90s. What can I say? They were a weird decade, and it was right after a major flood.

I do struggle to remember what I wrote.

 If memory serves, it was a long enough break that I got a chance to ask my grandfather about the subject, and my grandmother and I got their input, and I put all of that into me. First outline and tried to hammer it down over the break. I remember that I do not remember what I said. The statistical likelihood that I still exist in a universe that wrote down the words that I wrote down as a child is slim. But those are the dice we roll. I have, however, got somewhat of a break in the case. I was suggested to check out a heritage museum here in town so that I might find a historian who has the skills to help me narrow down my search considerably so far. I have gone through the microfilm for Conroe Courier for 1994. From August all the way through December. For those who were not around October was when the flood of 1994 happened. And a lot of people….

Let’s just say it was a weird time to be a 9-year-old Boy Scout. I remember rescuing dogs in a river plantation, taking turns helping people launch boats, helping people pull boats back out, and trying to direct traffic into the neighborhood. Yeah, I remember lots of things about the flooding. Lots of lots of food drives trying to get people to like, we know you survived the flood, but if you’ve got everything run it again, could you bring us your cans of course; you know Thanksgiving was right around the corner.

 Man, I’m talking about reading some newspaper that tells you that apples are 49 cents a pound, a carton of eggs is only $0.96, bread is $0.37!

 This is back when you could get gas for less than a dollar. I swear to you, that was the thing! My father used to use five bucks a week to drive from Montgomery to Conroe and still make money to get drunk before he came home (again, spoilers).  

 I asked my grandfather and my grandmother, who were both retired (for vastly different reasons.) What Freedom meant to them. They both told me the fact that I cannot remember anything other than a sense of hope.

 I do not have to know what was written down; I say them act it out all the time, showing me that it must always be worth fighting for.

 That the day we are unable to use our words to come to an understanding and to know enough about each other to respect each other’s opinions and honor each other’s beliefs without violating each other’s rights.

To not judge people for things we may not agree with.

If we can hold that space within ourselves between judgment and action.

Between emotion and thought, after sensation but before reaction; choosing how we want to response without fear. From a place of love and compassion. Like, if we could just be real with that feeling of fear and understand what it means!

There’s something in our environment we don’t know about.

 In the country I grew up in. You could walk up to someone and ask them a question and engage in a conversation and get to know a total stranger and nothing was wrong with that. People thought I was interested. I still do it today. My mind was blown in the early 2000s when they were talking about people being NPCS. And I remember when that changed.

 Not just as a crotchety old man: ‘Have a feeling…’

Like in my community.

I was there the day it changed… I watched him climb in that car.

 ^*But that’s a story for farther down the road.

I just remembered that the hope and the joy that I felt gave me a sense of pride that I was willing to call Patriotism at the time and I composed an essay and I mean, it was all right.

I ran it through the spell Checker on word just to make sure. At least I didn’t make a lot of errors. I spent a lot of time writing it. My parents worked at as printers and correlated collators at an office supply store that also did printing work. So we had a lot of legal pads to use. And I would just write.

 Yeah. That was also that was also the same year 4^th grade was the same year where Dad no longer spanked me anymore. He had decided to make me write about it and explain myself. It usually gave him enough time to calm down. It gave me enough time to plead my case. And yeah, being an asshole, I was often punished, albeit fairly.

I wrote a lot of lines okay, I know what Bart Simpson was doing on that chalkboard cause I’ve done it, yeah?

 Um, but that’s  part of the next chapter of this story.

They liked my essay, and I’m trying to find out what I wrote because I feel like it would make something, you know, meaningful for me to remember that part of myself in that innocence before the whole world literally turned upside down in the span of like four years because this is right after a flood over a holiday. Don’t remember which one. I’m still trying to narrow it down. I know. It’s the point of the essay was what freedom means to me. So, I tried July and that didn’t work. So, I’m thinking maybe because it was a school project, it might have been the end of the year. But I don’t remember if it was before TAAS or not. So, I’m just going to start in January and work my way through 95^*

I know I didn’t need to turn the essay in for the credit. I know that using the essay for one of my merit badges was a smart idea. I know that killing two birds with one stone was efficient. It’s because of Clay that I understood what that pride was. In myself. What I failed to understand. Is how easy it was to be manipulated for “my greater good.”

 How easily I fell in love with trying to impress people. I’d like to say that the problem has absolved itself, but I’m also trying not to lie as much, so there’s that. Still, effort affects efficiency.

Stay safe, Have fun.

 Take Care of yourself. Look out for each other if you can.

The work requires work, so back to it, see you out there in the universe.