Two shameful incidents:
In second grade, bored
as my class listened to the librarian read
something-or-other out
loud, I procured a safety pin from my
jumper and carefully
punctured the air bubble in a classmateÕs new
Nikes. As it hissed in
deflation I realized what I had done and scooted
away surreptitiously.
The next day he came to school wearing old
sneakers.
In fourth grade, in
Maine, I discovered two boys my own age scuffling
on the dock. I trotted down
to see what was going on and, when they ignored
me, picked up one of
their momentarily abandoned flip-flops and threw
it into the sea, where
it sank. Later that day, their dad paid a visit to our house
and had me publicly
confirm my irrational behavior.
I used to make myself
think about these things a lot. IÕve found new things.
