Bad Parent Story #36

With all of the "Jack History Month" crap I've been writing, I've been thinking back at all of the goofy stuff I've said or done and the people around me have been doing the same. My wife Deborah reminded me of this story, so I thought I would share it.

My two kids were born a year and nine days apart. I like to joke with my wife saying that I had two good years and then nothing! I pretend that she thinks it pretty funny but I'm sure she really doesn't, and it doesn't really have anything to do with this story anyway.

As you would imagine, when you have two kids that were born toward the end of October, their birthdays would naturally have a Halloween theme; and so they did. During their first years we use to have a party right in the middle of the dates, combining Vanessa's October 18th birthday friends and Zachary's October 27th birthday friends. One year when Vanessa was going to turn seven and Zachary six, they requested, or should I say, demanded separate parties. Although I saw no logic in separate parties, Debbie having grown up with a sister whose birthday was only days from her own, empathized, sympathized and agreed to hold separate celebrations, and of course, each of them would still stay true to the Halloween tradition.



Vanessa's party was first and held all of the trappings of a seventh birthday. A crowd of kids, mostly girls with ages ranging from two to seven ran through the house screaming and laughing and having a great time. We played the usual party games including musical chairs and pin the tail on the donkey, and at one point gathered all of the girls in our living room, lowered the lights and let them tell spooky and scary tales. Now, I'm no writer nor do I possess any skills as a literary critic, but these stories were horrible. There was no character development, the plots were weak, and they possessed no redeeming themes. What was worse is that every story ended with them being at some horseshit ball wearing a white gown and a tiara. The party eventually ended and was deemed a tremendous success and a highlight of the Florence Street Social season.



When the next Saturday arrived it was Zachary's turn to party. Much to my surprise, Debbie informed me that since this would be a testosterone filled macho goon fest, I would be in charge of overseeing the event, and she was right. Zach's friends tore through our house like a Texas Twister. there seemed to be an ever moving mass of arms and legs moving in every direction that left a wake of destruction worthy of a call to our local FEMA office. There was one point where I looked out the window and I'm certain that despite them being too young to know about it, they seemed to be recreating the Rodney King video, beating one unfortunate kid as he cried, "Can't we all just get along?"



I tried the pin the tail on the donkey game as well as bobbing for apples, but they kept sticking each other, throwing apples and spitting in the water. In an attempt to calm them down I brought them into our living room, turned off the lights and began the ghost story time. I said "It's scary story time, and to get you started I'll tell the first tale." Now, before I move on I should tell you that I prepared a prop for my story. I grabbed a small white cardboard jewelry box and cut a hole in the bottom of it just large enough to fit my middle finger. Then I lined it with cotton and put some fake blood in it. Then I put my finger though the hole and covered the box. Then I proceeded to tell them this story:



You know we live in a very old house and we were not the first to live in it. Prior to us living here there was an old man, Old man Johnston who lived here for many years. Now Mr. Johnston was a mean old guy and he hated anyone near his property, especially kids. He hated children, and the kids in the neighborhood didn't like him. They would taunt and tease him.

Now Mr. Johnston not only hate kids, but he use to go out of his way to hurt them. He had a workshop in his basement where he would create and invent devices meant to keep kids off of his property and hurt them.

One day when he was in his workshop he was using his table saw to create his latest kid hurting device, when some neighborhood kids banged on his basement window to scare him. Mr. Johnston was startled. He jumped, jerked back, and in the process he cut his finger off. What's worse, he couldn't find it. He spent the rest of his life in the basement looking for his finger. and the finger...was looking for him.

Eventually, Mr. Johnston died, and we bought the house. On our first day here I was moving some boxes into the basement, and guess what I found?

A this stage the kids are completely wide eyed and engaged.

"Do you really want to see?"

Now, I pull the box out and hold it in front of them.

"Are you sure you want to see?"

The kids all move even closer calling out, "Yes. We want to see! We want to see!"

I slowly tilted the box toward them and slowly lifted the cover to reveal my bloodied finger laying still in the stained cotton. The kids are completely wide eyed with mouths open but there's not a sound in the room. Then I flip my finger up and scream...First the kids freak, then it's my turn.

I'm not sure if you've ever seen 12 kids ranging from four to six uncontrollably crying sobbing and freaking out, but it's not pretty. I panicked pulling my finger out of the box and showing the kids, "look, it was my finger, it's only a hole in the box!" I looked toward the doorway at Debbie for some assistance, but she's just standing there with her thumbs up, mouthing the words, "good job."

The kids eventually calmed down and I even had to come up with a game to decide who would get to keep the "trick box." Throughout the past number of years, the kids would occasionally bring up the story which means that in my own way made an impression on them. Maybe someday they'll tell their own kids about the time when they were young and old man Calabrese gave them the finger.

I Take a Shot at the Electrical Field

I've been writing different memories throughout the month of March for Jack History Month. My friend Timmy reminded me of this story. Not sure if it's one of those, you had to be there stories, but it entertains the Hell out of me.

I was hanging out with friends in front of the Pizza Center in my hometown of Winthrop Mass. contemplating the evening’s entertainment when I was asked by by Michael “Tiny” Christopher if I had any interest in making a little money working for a company called Ideal Electric. I told Tiny that I had not a clue about anything electric beyond wiring speakers or plugging in my hairdryer, (neither of which I do anymore.) I had concerns that I'd kill either myself, a co worker or some unsuspecting family by incorrectly wiring something. But with no other serious prospects, I agreed.

Tiny told me to report to the shop on Bates avenues no later than 7:00 the next morning. Now, a smarter man would have gone home to rest and prepare, but this was not to be the case as I stayed out for the better part of the evening and just a tad bit of the early morning doing whatever it was we did back then.

The next morning, I awoke, showered and groggily stumbled to Bates Ave. When I arrived at Ideal, I was relieved to see my best friend Johnny Gillis, his brother's, Owen and Jimmy as well as Bobby I. and a guy appropriately named, "Nick the Prick." Bobby I turned to me and said, "Are you Jack?" Then he looked me over and asked, "Is that what you're going to wear today? You know you're going to get dirty on this job. " Then he said, Okay, whatever, here's your first job. I have an "effin" squirrel that is living in my attic. See that hole up by the roof? We're going to flush him out, when he comes through that hole, you shoot the f*cker!" Then he dropped a nickel plated .38 caliber pistol in my hand. Needless to say, this was not the new experience I expected, but like I said, I had no other serious prospects and at least I couldn't electrocute or hurt myself.

So there I am on my first day of the job with high hopes of learning to use new cool and visions of wearing one of those cool tool belts and the potential of a new career, but instead I'm standing in a driveway pointing a gun at a house. To make matters worse, kids began to walk by on their way to school many of them staring in disbelief at my appearance. To a few of them I smiled and said, "It's okay, I'm an electrician."

Just then I saw something stir in the opening. I nervously cocked the hammer, raised the weapon and aimed, but I immediately halted when I realized it was not Rocket Jay Squirrel, but Owen Gillis' furry head popping out while yelling, "Don't Shoot, don't shoot!" I thought about popping off one round in the air, just to see his reaction, but I didn't think anyone aside form myself would be amused. Fortunately, the furry rodent, The Ideal crew were better at wiring than hunting, and I didn't get to prove myself during this unintentional hazing ritual or bizarre initiation. There were a lot of people back then that liked to play Mafia wise guy, including Bobby I. too bad for me that I didn't get to prove myself on my first "hit." I would have to do it with my work ethic (it was nil back then.)

You know, as time goes by, the details of old memories begin to fade and the specifics are lost or embellished. I ran into Johnny Gillis at our 25th high school reunion and after a few drinks and a bunch of stories, he asked, "Remember your first day at Ideal Electric?" Then he told the story to Deb and I from his perspective. I was tickled to know that it had actually happened the way I remembered.

As for my career as an electrician, it never materialized. I didn't have the knack for handy work so I was relegated to bull work with "Nick the Prick" partly because he liked me but it probably had more to do with the fact that no one else could stand him. Occasionally, Bobby I. would pull me to work with him, but most of the time we would just cruise the beach where I would point out different the women that I knew and that he wanted to meet. I've heard that he has found religion and knowing him back then, I can tell you that he needed it. I think my staying power at Ideal was largely attributed to my ability to keep them entertained.

So that's what happened on this or some other day in Jack History Month, March 14th 1984. If you'd like to know more about Jack History Month, please ask your teacher or visit your local library.