Iron Sharpens Iron, Men Strengthen Men

When I was a kid I had a tendency to get into trouble. Things just kind of happened and I’m not completely clear, even now, why I always seemed to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Typically though, I would end up having that inevitable conversation with my father that always ended with his infamous line, “this is going to hurt me more than it will hurt you”…and that is where this story begins…

If you’re like me, and I’m sure you are, you have had to take out the garbage sometime in your life. In fact, for some of you, that particular job may still be apart of your weekly routine. Nevertheless, that job was apart of my chore list when I was a kid growing up in Phoenix, Arizona back in the 70’s. What I remember about doing that job was the long distance I would have to carry the bags just to reach the trash cans. Apparently, my parents enjoyed the daily torture of watching my brother and I make the daily journey across the desert landscape, empty the trash, and then make it back alive before we melted in the summer heat. I remember one particular day when I had gotten home from school and was starting my chore list when I noticed 5 extra bags sitting by the back door. Upon questioning my Mom, she told me “they were filled with glass jars she no longer needed and wanted them gone”. I remember groaning because this meant 2 or 3 extra trips just to finish my regular job and of course my brother wasn’t any where around to help…

Then I got a great idea and decided to use our toy wagon, we kept outside, to carry some of these heavy bags all the way out to the trash barrels which ultimately worked great. On my second and final trip, the real idea (and our story) popped right into my head…To this day I have no idea why that thought came to me, but when it did, it was just too much to pass up.

What I decided to do, was instead of just putting all the bags into the barrels like everyone else, why not throw all of the jars over the fence and try to make baskets into the cans? I mean why not take a daily, painful, chore and have some fun with it? Now I will tell you, that as an adult, I wish I would have maybe considered actually where the trash barrels were sitting on the other side of the fence as well as jar trajectory prior to beginning my glass tossing deluge but apparently I did not think that was important at the time… I began tossing small, medium and monster size glass jars over the fence and waiting to hear them fall into the cans. I should also probably say at this time being only 8 years old, I guess I also didn’t know what glass hitting the trash barrels sounded like because I just kept throwing them over the fence…

Meanwhile, my mother came to the kitchen window and happened to see my, exercise in 8-year-old fun, occurring and she erupted just like a volcano would. She burst out of the house at warp speed hurdling tricycles and the dog to frankly, break a land speed record to get to the back gate where I was. I must also say that before she reached me, her screaming for me to stop caused me to turn around from my game to witness how much of an athlete I didn’t know my Mom was. Of course, there was the proverbial, “WHAT ARE YOU DOING!” comment, but before I could answer, she moved around me towards the gate. At this point, time seemed to slow down because I remember as she pushed the gate open, being surprised there wasn’t any glass near my target but as my gaze lifted upward, then I was awestruck. All of the glass was not by the barrels, but out in the middle of the street next to our house. At the center point of the asphalt, there was 6 inches of broken glass. It was an amazing sight from my point of view but not from my Mom’s. She immediately kicked into an even faster speed and moved around me before I could speak. She yelled, “stay there!” until she returned. I heard her yell for my brother as she raced back to the house and returning just minutes later with brooms and dust pans. As we started to clean up, my little brother arrived to help. I remember him just standing there totally awestruck at the sight of all that broken glass. But then he said, “ You are in SOOOOO much trouble”, which up until that point, I hadn’t made that connection. I was going to have to face Dad about this incident and it might be bad. I decided to test the water with mom and ask her…her response told me all I didn’t want to hear…”I am so mad at you that your Father is going to have to deal with this disaster”…

We worked for a good half hour and finally got the street clean enough for cars to pass through so when we headed back towards the house, all she said was, “go to your room and wait for your father” Of course that’s just plain torture as far as I can tell because it might be hours before he came home, I mean I was 8, and had no concept of time. Of course shortly thereafter, I heard the distinct sound of his car pulling into our drive way…The car door opening and shutting, the house door opening and shutting..and then my mom yelling…KENNY!!!!!…I knew then I was toast. From my room, I could hear her talking but couldn’t understand what she was saying. I’m sure it was like, “your son did the most despicable thing ever today; he needs to be publicly humiliated or publicly flogged”…I don’t know, I WAS 8! Those are the kinds of things 8-year-old boys think…Then I heard my Dad say something and there was this really…long…pause….For a fleeting second I thought maybe I might get off the hook because the pause was still going on…Then it happened; and I still don’t know how he came all the way from the kitchen to my room with out me hearing him. Was my Dad part Indian or something? All I remember was all of a sudden, my bedroom door opened and in he walked. He was wearing his white shirt and tie. I noticed he had taken off his jacket and figured that gave him more mobility to hit me harder…(I actually thought that by the way). He sat down on my bed and looked at me and just shook his head. “Not good” I thought…not good. I decided I should say something and started to speak but he just waved me off. He said, “son, this one is just too much for excuses…You went too far…You must be punished”…He stood up and started taking off his belt. I thought, “I wish I would have put that book in my pants like my brother did once”… then he said the line, ”Son, this is going to hurt me more than its going to hurt you…” I thought, “really Dad?, really?, Do you want to change places to test your theory?” Ok, Ok, that last line is adult commentary all these years later…and had I said that at the time…well…its a good thing I was a kid and didn’t know any better…

So I went on to take my lumps and paid my dues for that days decision to have fun with my chores but as an adult, I look back on that day with fond memories and because of that HUGE lesson I learned…

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What if I had used the Magic Johnson hook shot instead?e