Notes - A Memoir Short

It really was a beautiful swing. The kind of swing that would have made Jack Nicholas smile. It was smooth and fluid. Near perfect. The tennis ball took off like a rocket with an impressive arc. The golf club even made that swoosh sound as it cut through the air. The follow through was too perfect tough. It connected with my friend Christopher’s jaw. I never thought you could connect twice and perfect with one swing. But I did it - once.


Two birds with one stone, so that’s what it means? I never really got it until that day. I stored the thought and turned to see Christopher doubled over and crying. I turned back to see where the tennis ball had landed. Nothing. I felt bad for Christopher, but you’ve got to admire a thing of beauty when it comes around. Who knows when or if it will ever show up again?

My dad was the first to show up. He came around the corner of our house with that half panic look he got. In my whole life I never saw him full out panic. He got upset sure, but never full on red faced hair raising panic. I should know too, I was always watching him. I would always pay attention to how he dealt with situations. I was curious on how you’re supposed to act to problems and tragedies. Dad was my tour guide.

I spent the bulk of my time growing up with my mother. I learned lots of things from her, but that is another story. It was Dad who was the one to watch. He always led by example. Besides, I’m going to grow up to be just like him, aren’t I? I have his feet, his hands, and his cheek bones. I might as well copy a true original. This is the stuff I’m going to need when I get to be old.

Let’s see… Daughter runs her arm through a screen door. Apply pressure to the wound. Remain calm. Take her to hospital for stitches. Check.

First son shatters left hand batting poorly in a little league baseball game. Pack with ice. Remain calm. Take to hospital for x-rays and cast. Check.

Garage collapses on top of family car from the weight of too much snow. Act slightly pissed, but not too pissed as to scare family. Evaluate the situation. Compose yourself. Make a note to call insurance company on Monday. Check.

Second son crushes neighbor boy’s jaw with golf club pretending to be Jack Nicholas. Ask what happened in a loud, almost angry voice. Walk damaged boy across street and hand him back to his parents in present condition. Apologize two to three times. Go back and yell at errant son. Take golf club away. Take away TV for a couple days. Compose self for dinner. Check.

Dinner that night was a learning experience too.
My dad started, “What were you thinking?”

“I dunno?”

You’d think I could come up with something better. But I was busy watching him. Was he going to get angrier? Would he be able to drop the subject? Could he let it go? Should he let it go? I was worried. I didn’t want it to turn into a spanking situation. You know how those can get away from you. One minute you think you’re in the clear and the next you’re over a knee getting whacked. I should try to help him remain calm.

“I thought he was far enough behind me,” I told him. “I thought it was OK to swing. He stood too close. I couldn’t see him.” I was bargaining with every sentence.

It worked. He understood. He was a rational man after all. He let it go after dinner. Later he called Christopher’s parents to see how he was doing. As he was listening to them, I could tell he was trying not to get mad all over again.

“Well kid,” he said to me, “you broke his jaw. The doctor had to wire it shut to set the bone. He’ll be on liquid food for three weeks.” He paused and then added, “Did you ever apologize?”

Make kid apologize. Check.

“I’m not sure. There was a lot of screaming and blood and stuff.”

“You’re going to keep him company after school until dinner. You’re going to check with his teacher everyday and get any homework. If he needs help with some of his homework, then help him. You’re a year older, so you should know better.”

Make kid friend’s slave. Check.

Remorse is a product of Cause and Effect. Break a friend’s jaw and there is always time for remorse. After all was said. After all the lectures I took notes on. After all the Band-Aids, Bactine, cold compresses, heating pads, thermometers, and chewable aspirin with little cups of water. After the lights went out at nine o’clock. There was plenty of time for remorse.

There were many more seemingly minor tragedies I learned from over the years. I’ve got it all stored away upstairs. I’ve got it catalogued and ready for whatever might happen. It’s an internal tome of knowledge I’ve acquired through years of observation.
Life seems simple enough - when you have notes.


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