My Name is NOT Earl ...

... but maybe it should be.

After yesterday's encounters, I'm thinking it might serve me well to make a list of all the people I've wronged, or at least think that I've wronged during my half century of life. There are two main reasons for my thinking:

1. It might do the people I've wronged some good to know that I am remorseful and will do whatever I can to make it up to them.

2. My memory may not be up to par, and I may not have wronged them at all.

Yesterday was good for me even if it was painful. I came to realize many things about myself primarily and a few things about other people.

I finally got to express my joy to an old schoolmate about his success. I'd thought I'd ruined his life way back when. I've held the guilt and remorse for so many years, and yesterday I at least got to tell him how relieved I am that he has succeeded in his chosen field because I didn't know if he'd be allowed to practice in his desired profession as a result of what I did.

It was a revelation to him that I was one of the people who "narced" on him. He thought it was two other people. The two other people did narc before me, I learned in later years; but still I went in and gave "the authorities" what they were looking for. I felt it was the right thing to do at the time. He wasn't happy to learn that I had narced, so I'll take a moment to relive a bit of that past.

It was 1978. I was one of the Boys Basketball team's managers. I'd managed the team since I was a Freshman. Dad had been the basketball coach but had retired to go on to other positions that paid a heck of a lot more than he was making with his Masters and three positions with our local high school. The man who was coaching was not a good coach, and the toll it took on the boys and girls associated with the team was immense. Our new coach's lack of basketball coaching skills combined with his failings as a person resulted in destroying our team. It wasn't just his fault, though. I'm not one to completely blame another especially when so many lent a hand in the destruction of something that could've been one of the most wonderful teams in our school's history. We had three talented players who were 6'4" which was tall for our conference. We had good point guards, forwards and centers. By the end of the season, we'd lost two of the three 6'4" players because playing on this team just wasn't fun. One was said to have family problems, but I've been of the opinion that if Dad was coaching that this player might have found success and happiness on the court and with his team which would've propelled him into a much different life. The other said he just wasn't happy anymore; and that, it was basketball that was causing it. He was smart to leave, and yet I wonder the same about him. The third was the coach's pet, and it was his actions that ultimately brought down the team. Irony in life is a very bitter pill sometimes.

For my part, I wasn't happy because I'd been a manager for so many years, but I wasn't recognized for my skills. Besides, I was Dad's daughter, so I guess it was a bit much to ask that the new coach allow me to be the Head Manager. He picked someone he coached in another sport and who was ambitious and competitive in all areas of his life.

In any case, when I was a Sophomore, I noticed that certain Seniors would drink huge bottles of pop on the bus when we were returning home from away games. When I took a drink from their bottles, I discovered that it wasn't just pop inside. There was whiskey mixed in. When they graduated, I was given the recipe and instructions on how to mix up the drinks. It was just one who passed on the info to me, and I was stupid enough to carry on the "tradition" for the next two years.

All hope had been lost. Rules didn't matter. I was mad at my parents, so I certainly didn't tell Dad what I was doing. He would've stopped me, of course. He would've stepped in and done something to try to rectify the situation. I was an angry teen who was in a world of hurt, so I did like most of my age in my time; I partied.

I once saw a statistic about people who graduated from high school in 1978. It said that these people were the biggest partiers of any class year to ever graduate from high school. I thought that was odd considering the history of the '60s, but looking at my class from the Honors Stage during graduation; I could only count maybe a dozen classmates who didn't do some sort of partying. Our class was small at only 183, but it was a revelation. Over 90% of my classmates drank and/or smoked pot as far as I knew.

So, on the last bus ride home from an Away Game in my Senior year the coach's darling decided to light a joint on the bus. It was winter, of course; and he didn't open any windows and ignored my pleas not to do it. I was sitting on the towel bag by the Emergency door talking to my old schoolmate when we smelled it.

"We're dead," I said.

"We're so busted," he said.

We lunged for the coach's pet, got the joint extinguished, and sat back down trying to disappear while whispering our admonishments to both the coach's pet and the Vice Principal's son who had egged him on.

When we arrived at the school, as I remember, I just went home to wait for the fallout. It didn't take long.

By Monday the word was out about what had happened. I started popping Darvon.

I had a running prescription of Darvon in high school to help with "that time of the month." They did help. I also "lost" my bottle of pills frequently and got frequent refills. How innocent my doctors were. Wonder what they would do if they knew now what it might have been good if they picked up on back then.

By the time the word went out that the entire team would be disbanded if names weren't provided, I was looped 24/7. My guilt, shame, and fear were too much to bear.

My parents had moved away, and I had insisted that I be allowed to stay and finish my Senior year since I'd attended school in my hometown since First Grade. I had a beautiful Shepherd, Collie, Saint Bernard dog that I was boarding out at a friend's farm; so I spent a lot of time walking with her when I wasn't going to school, involved in activities or hanging out with friends. I had just started dating a very cute and nice boy. Our plan was that he would join me at UW-Madison when he graduated from high school in 1979. I was preparing to leave my hometown forever; just as soon as I graduated from high school. I was enjoying my new life away from my parents for the most part, but this event was the straw that broke my back.

While I love my parents with all of my heart now, as a teen, I was pretty typical; I hated them. My life as a coach's daughter was tumultuous in my hometown. It seemed like someone was always writing a letter to the paper about him. There was a very public campaign by his Assistant Coach to have him removed as Head Coach. If my dad wasn't being attacked, my mom was. Comments made by people about petty things out of ignorance and jealousy took a toll on her. They did have a few good friends, but they soon learned that some of those friends were just "basketball" friends; as soon as their sons made the team or graduated from high school the friends disappeared. It hurt. I saw it.

People gossiped about my family all the time, and I came to find out that I was the source of most of the gossip. Childish complaints about a fight that Mom and Dad had told to my school friends made it up to my parents' peers, and the town continually gossiped about the stability of my parents' marriage. It was the gossip and mean-spirited actions that made our home life so tense. There were other factors like money, too; but the way I've always seen it is that the continual gossip, ignorance, and meanness was what did us in. It was as though people wanted to see us fail, or so I thought.

I'm not saying that my parents didn't have issues, but they had help in making those issues bigger than they needed to be. They ended up divorcing for a couple of years, but they remarried and are still together. I'm happy to report that they are more in love than ever before now. I've had the pleasure of witnessing their love for each other over the years. It has brought me to tears at times. It's a privilege to witness a couple help each other in the perfect way knowing that all this is possible only because of the love and trust that they have for each other. They may get snarky and get on each other's nerves, but at the core; their love is strong and holds them up. They appreciate each other and protect each other. I honestly believe that they are best friends.

But I have gotten side-tracked ...

So, while on my own in my hometown whacked out on pain pills, I made the decision without consulting anyone, really, that I would "do the right thing" and provide the names for "the authorities." I threw myself on the sword, so to speak. When I provided names, I told the complete truth and took complete responsibility for the role that I had in it all. I was of the opinion that three people were responsible for what happened on that bus; me, the coach, and the coach's pet. I repeatedly told them this when I spoke with them.

"Thank you for your honesty," they all told me over and over.

The decision concerning the team was that the coach would finish out the season. He may have coached for one more, or that may have been his last. The coach's pet and all involved were removed from the team, of course. The season ended more dismally than it started.

My parents were beside themselves with worry. I was 18 years old. I was the only one who wasn't a minor. They wanted me to move in with them out of state, but I refused. They were afraid that legal charges would be filed for "Corrupting a Minor."

I remember my old school mate looking at me in the Principal's office and asking me as I walked by, "Why didn't you call us?"

He was sitting by the coach's pet who chimed in with the same remark. They looked at me like I was the biggest traitor, or so I thought.

I did what I thought was right from the standpoint of a naive, self-sacrificing, ashamed child who really thought she could change something in a fair way because she had insight into the wrongs that no one else did. Little did I know how wrong I was.

After I had told everything I knew, I was told that a decision would be made regarding my punishment. I was told not to attend classes until the decision was made. The reasoning behind this decision was that I was just auditing my classes since I had enough credits to graduate already. They couldn't prevent me from going to school, though. I don't know why, but apparently they couldn't stop me from coming to school and hanging out with my friends.

I did go to school some of the time. I would hang out in study hall and wander the halls. I was popping Darvon like candy. I remember one particularly emotional day when I woke up on the stage in the gym laying on some gym mats. The curtain was closed and nobody knew I was there. If I wasn't in school, I was hanging out with my dog. We walked for miles. I mean, literally, miles. I saw my boyfriend. I was called into his track coach's classroom and grilled about his activities. I lied. I told him that our relationship didn't include partying. I acted my ass off around everyone, or so I thought. My parents called me to see how I was doing. I lied and told them I was fine. Fellow students asked me if I'd found out what would happen to me, yet. I don't remember hanging out with any friends except my boyfriend. I don't remember much from those two weeks.

I do remember hearing the punishment for the rest of the students involved. Basically, they were not allowed to go out for spring sports. That was all of them except for the Vice Principal's son. He was exonerated. He suffered in the halls, though. It might have been better for him if he'd been punished, too. He was despised. It was so unfair. If "the authorities" (the Principal, Vice Principal, and Head Guidance Counselor) believed me about everything else, why didn't they punish him, too? Well, duh.

The newspaper printed the scandalous story on the front page of the paper. No names were given because the students were minors, so people thought. I was 18. I was saved by the kind Editor of the paper because he was a good family friend. I've been eternally grateful to him ever since. He chose to protect me. He did a good deed that betrayed his professional ethics. His choice did make my life easier. I have had the chance to thank him.

For two weeks I waited for my decision. Waiting is the worst part of anything, and this experience slammed this fact home. My parents were ready to drive back to my hometown and take me by force, or so they said. I told them I was fine; and that, I was staying on top of things. I stopped into the office every other day to see if a decision had been made until finally, I was brought back into the office one day.
"We've decided to kick you out of school," said the Principal, "You haven't been going to classes anyway ...."

"I was told not to go to classes," I interrupted.

"You were only auditing because you have enough credits to graduate. You'll graduate," he continued.

"How can you do this to me? After everything that I've been through these past years," I argued, "You know I stayed here to be with my friends..."

"And look where it got you," he interrupted and continued, "We've decided not to file criminal charges, and you should be grateful for that. You are not to be on school grounds during school hours. You are not to attend school functions."

"I can't go to track meets?"

"No."

"How are you going to stop me?"

The Principal was silent and just looked at me. We sat in silence until it became too uncomfortable for both of us.

"We've made our decision. That's it. You can clean out your locker and go."
So, I cleaned out my locker and left. That was how I ended my "High School Career."

As the years have progressed, I've learned that I wasn't the first to tell on my teammates; two other teammates came forward first. The bus driver was the first to report the incident to the coaches because he knew what he smelled, and the coaches didn't know what they smelled. The coach's pet lost a scholarship to a Junior College and joined the military. He got a hold of my parents about 15 years after we'd graduated and asked for my number. My mom got his, and I call him back. He apologized for all the wrongs that he had committed against me because he had been a shitty boyfriend during our Freshman year and because he was stupid enough to light that joint on the bus. I was and still am amazed at the weight that was lifted off my shoulders as a result of that call. All the other students that were kicked off the team have gone on to their adult lives. I know that four of us have found happiness and success during some portions of our lives. I still can't remember all the people involved. I only remember six, and I'm pretty sure there were seven involved; but I could be wrong. I know that the two 6'4" players who quit were spared because if they had been there they would've been among the "guilty."

I've also come to realize that I was spared by "the authorities" from criminal charges probably because they did take some pity on me and my circumstance, so I guess it's time to acknowledge their thoughtfulness, too. At least, I'm going to decide to see it that way.

I've learned that I wish that I had turned to my friends and their parents for help instead of the Darvon. I missed out on getting support from some of the nicest people I've ever had the pleasure of knowing including our dear friend who just died.

I suppose there are people that say, "It's hard being me", and I will join them. I was hard being me in my hometown. The actions of the mean, gossipy people really did take its toll on me. I learned not to trust people at an early age. I learned to be afraid of people, too. I took upon myself to stand up for those who were unjustly picked on and floated between groups. I leaned that every group says something bad about another group; and that, I don't like that about people. I learned that the world wasn't what I wanted it to be; and that, I didn't have the skills to change it. I learned that I didn't appreciate my talents and didn't know how to use them to make the world the way I wanted it to be. I learned that I was an embarrassment and failure. I learned how to shred myself to the core of my being better than any outsider ever could. I learned that more than any other person on the face of the earth that I was responsible for making the world worse. I learned to wish for my death. I learned that I had no passion for life and didn't know what I wanted to do to make a living. I learned that I only wanted to escape everything and everyone because either they hurt me, or I would hurt them.

My dad says that I was always overly sensitive, naive, and wanted to save the world ever since he can remember. He also says that he did a poor job of preparing me for his public life and the pitfalls. He's right.

I still struggle with the injustices of this world and the people who choose to judge, gossip about, and abuse others. I suppose that's not so bad, but to the degree that it gets to my heart is detrimental to my forward progress. I'm struggling to put my feelings in perspective and find my fighting spirit again. For all the negative things that I learned as a child and teen, it's taken me to this moment to realize that by focusing on my shortcomings and the shortcoming of others; I negate all the good people in this world, including me. That's tantamount to a crime punishable by death in my mind.

I may have just had an "AHA Moment." Could it be that my self-deprecating humor and bad habits are my attempt to put myself down before any outsider can?

I think my path is clear on what I need to focus on now. I will spend my days thinking of all the good people and events in my life. I will think about the good things I have done. I will give proper perspective to the wrongs that I have committed and let them go because most were made when I was a child. I will somehow find a way to come to terms with the few regrets that I have in life and let them go, too. While I'm doing all of that, I will remember and remind myself that my memory isn't perfect, that I haven't hurt all the people that I think that I have, and that most of the people that I've talked to from my teen years were going through their own lives with their own brand of teen-blinders; and that, they don't know what the hell I'm talking about.

Not to sound all "New Agey" and overly "Everything will be OK-ish", but somehow I'm going to learn to toughen up a bit and figure out what the heck I can do to make this world a bit better. I'm gravely disappointed in myself for how long it's taken me to really embrace these thoughts. I don't want to sound like and don't feel like a victim; I'm a survivor. I'd like to do more than survive.

While the path is clear the path leading to the path isn't. Damn it. That's OK. I have professionals to help me with that part. It involves writing and being a bit practical with my choice of Masters Study. It involves continued therapy in my Domestic Abuse Survivors group. It involves a lot of work, and with that said; it's time for me to go to school and get to work on my final.

It's also time to get out in the snow because I love snow. It is a beautiful world out there. I just have to remind myself every single morning of that fact. The world needs someone like me, so I better buck up and stop my pissing and moaning. The world has enough people who are willing to piss and moan their lives away. I never wanted to be one of those. It is coming together. I just have to relax, keep working for it, and let it happen.

Oh, and by the way, the best thing I've ever done in my life is being a MOM. I've been able to succeed in this area to some degree because of the many things that I learned from the good people in my life. I've made my amends, given my apologies, and risen to each occasion. I still make mistakes, but I am quicker to realize and apologize now. Basically, while none of us are perfect; we are good and strong. It's quite a feeling to know that I've raised two pretty decent adults and let them loose on the world. The world is a bit better for that, at least. I know that I'm better because of my children; they are my "safe place." After all these years of not fitting in, I can accept that while I don't completely fit in with them; they do understand and love me for who I am. We love each other unconditionally, and with that I can continue to take each step forward that I need to take; everyone needs unconditional love.

If you've read this entire novella today, congratulations ... and I'm NOT Sorry. I'll leave you with one of my favorite quotes from my dad, Father and Coach Extraordinaire:

"If you go looking for shit, you'll probably find it."