I recall years ago my dad saying that a person will have very few real friends in his life. “If you have two or three really good friends, then you’ll be blessed more than most.” Having been a performer across the globe and a teacher for many years in many places, I’ve met hundreds, thousands of people that I have called friends. I suppose Dad was talking about the few to whom we tell all. And yes, they are very important. I would add, though, that there are others who have passed through my life, stayed briefly, and left an indelible mark on my soul.
These people come along just as one enters a new stage in life, or when something monumental has just happened to us. I can relate to both of those venues. Perhaps you can too. Let’s talk about the guys!
Richard. Fifth grade. Always wore blue jeans with a crease down the front you could cut your finger on! White tee-shirt, sleeves rolled up as if a pack of cigarettes belonged there. Big dark eyes and this delicious looking chocolate, brown hair. (He also wore tennis shoes that were always clean. I have found that a man, at times, could be judged in part, by the shoes that he wears. Those shoes of of Richard’s were white as snow, like the character I was sure he possessed beyond that steely exterior he tried to exhibit.) Yes I thought he was absolutely edible! Richard never spoke to anyone unless he had something of worth to say… not one of those random run-off-at-the-mouth type guys. And… He was certainly smart but never cracked a book (I know this because I sat next to Richard that entire year.) His total appearance and manner said, “Worthy” to me. It was the first guy outside of my brother to whom I ever paid any attention. Richard moved away at the close of the year… left just as quickly as he came. But I have never forgotten him and I have sort of used him as benchmark, for what I continued to like in guys through the rest of my childhood and into my adult life.
Michael. Fifth grade. Played the lead in the school musical opposite me. We use to practice our lines together in the Park School Library. A little taller than me. Dark brown hair and dark brown eyes. Had a wonderful speaking voice. I didn’t care what he said… I just wanted to listen to his voice. We went into the library by ourselves to practice lines one day. No one else was there. In the midst of our work, there was a power outage. It frightened me to be in this big dark room; and Michael saw that. He just kept talking to me and looking into my face until the lights came back on. I learned that day that if I ever decided to be like my parents and get married, I wanted someone who had a nice voice and who would look at me when he spoke… someone who could calm me down.
Bobby. Fifth grade. (It was a banner year, wasn’t it?) Bobby was this cute adorable type who had a really big mouth and made trouble much of the time in class. Everything he did screamed, “I am self-centered so look at me.” I felt sorry for the teacher because he couldn’t handle Bobby. And Bobby was the one who got everyone else all stirred up. Once the trouble started, he’d let George finish it off.
George. A jerk in fifth grade but I’m sure he became a very nice man as an adult. I say that only because George was so loud and obnoxious in the fifth grade that I socked him in the jaw right in the middle of our math lesson. (Now who is the bad example?) George did exactly what I thought he’d do… He lost his cool, jumped out of his seat and hit a girl. I played it for all it was worth and George was sent to the principal’s office while I remained in a now quiet classroom. Ah peace. Bad Carolyn!
That year, I learned that I didn’t like guys like Bobby or George… all about themselves, had to be the center of it all, no brains and all mouth. Like I said, they’re both probably very nice men now. But in fifth grade? Not so. If I was anything to George? I’m sure it was “that awful girl who walked up and just hit me for no reason at all. For no reason at all!” He probably didn’t want a girl like me in his life, and I’m fine with that!
In the fifth grade, it came to me that I liked guys with more brains than brawn. I wanted the ones that were sensitive and caring, but with enough backbone to stand up for what he believed. I preferred the fellas who thought before they shot off their mouths. I still think of these four. As much as my brother shaped my ideas about men, these four probably did more than anyone. I was ready to look and listen in the fifth grade… seems awfully young when I think back on it, but I was ready to know. Flowers open on their own timing, not by command.
Every guy I’ve ever cared about has had some of those first two fellows in them. And the “Bobbys” and the “Georges” of the fifth grade? Benchmarks for what to avoid.
Those four showed up all through my life. Sometimes I’ve seen them in the bros. Sometimes I’ve seen them across the street from me. Sometimes they’ve come home with my sons, when they were little boys; but thankfully only the “Richards” and the “Michaels” stayed.
As I think back on these four, they probably didn’t even know I was watching and mentally taking notes. Someone is always watching. Each of us has made a difference in someone’s life one way or another.
May it have been a good way when someone was watching you!
Best… Carolyn Thomas Temple
Post Script: Bill. (Not Hubby.) Seventh grade. Bill gave me my first kiss on a hayride. The first kiss has no prior knowledge. It can be a disaster or a revelation for things to come. Nice memory. Thanks Bill!