There are some things that I did that could have got me into deep trouble, if only I had been caught. Now the things that you will read about here are not really too grave, but when they were happening, believe me, they were grave. The two that have crossed my mind lately happened in the Winter. Of course there are some that happened in the Summer too, but as it happens, they are not among those that coursed through my mushy grey matter lately. Besides, during the Summer I was intent on baseball, not on raising Cain. So I did stupid things during the school year. You know, I had to pass the time doing something.
With that in mind, here's number one:
This is the rule -- remember it.
Don’t throw snowballs. Period. Two major reasons:
1. "You’re going to break a widow."
2. "You’re going to hit someone in the eye and it will be serious.
Now you know and I know that
other guys are going to break the windows,
not me. It is going to be the
other guys who are maladroit enough to hit someone in the eye. It will
never happen to
me, for crying out loud.
Have I told you that I went to school in the heart of the city? Oh, I have. Have I told you that deep into the Winter the snow was banked up so high on the sides of the streets that the first story windows were all that you could see over these “dikes”? Have I told you that because the banks were so high, that it was smart to walk on their crest so that you could have a vantage point from which to better take effective aim at your "enemies" with your projectile of choice? Have I told you that we were always throwing snowballs at one another under these conditions? Did I say Morning on the way to school? Noontime, going to and returning from lunch? Evening, on the way back home? Did I say,
always? Yup!
The window [Believe me, THE window, singular]
Yup. I did it. But there’s a story. And there’s a pretty girl in it, too. My favorite, Anita. It happened that she lived a couple of doors down from Russell, a guy that I got along with quite well. So after school, three or four of us would walk together in the direction of Anita’s home. We had walked for about ten minutes and were at the corner where we had to cross the street. This one day we didn't follow the rule because we saw some kids from Rosary School coming down the other sidewalk and we knew that they were going to turn and go in the same direction as we were. So, we didn't cross, we simply ducked down below the crest of the snow bank and turned right. To get to the point, as we were going, I made two snow balls and decided I was going to peg those dirty, rotten Irish kids. We were getting close to Anita’s house, so I quickly climbed up the snow bank to locate the Irish kids on the other side. I saw them, fired the first snowball and got a direct hit … right through the first floor apartment (I forgot, we called them “tenements”) window. Russell and Anita were laughing, but she had the presence of mind to ask if it had gone through her family’s window. My luck had not completely run out. It went into a stranger’s window. Well, this was the age of accountability and facing the music. So I climbed down the snow bank, into the street, crossed over the bank on the other side and introduced myself to the lady who lived in the apartment with the broken window. She was really angry. She read me the riot act (In French, I might add) and asked for my address. I gave it to her so that she could send the bill to my house. Once again, my luck hadn't totally deserted me because her family didn't have a telephone yet.
Well, everyone was laughing at me, and I was wet and cold and felt like a two month old dishrag. Much to their credit, Anita and Russell had stayed by my side during the entire episode, riot act and all. But after it was all over, we separated and I continued my walk to the bus stop, all the time wondering how I was going to get out of this mess.
I decided that I would not tell my parents about the accident. I was hoping against all hope that the word would not get to them and that somehow the lady would not send us the bill. The rest of that week (a couple more days) I walked with Anita and Russell to see how long it would take to fix the window. Only two! Now I was afraid because the bill was perhaps in the mail. I remember that it was Friday. My only chance was that my mother had been too busy to pick up the mail from the front porch floor, or that the mail had not contained the dreaded bill.
When I arrived home at around 4:30 PM, I paid the usual respects to my mother and ran to the window that allowed me to see the area of the porch where the mail would be. No mail! Quick, check Honey’s desk (Did I say that “Honey” was my name for EFR Dion?). Nothing there! Where is it? Don’t get nervous. Good thing that you didn't tell Denis. He can’t keep a secret at all! Why isn’t there any mail out there? Maybe it’s late because of the bad roads. Check the dresser bureau in the master bedroom. Sometimes she puts mail there. I slink through the bedroom into the kitchen. No mail there. So go be nice to Ma, just in case. That’s funny, she is acting pretty happy. Have I a dodged a bullet?
Believe it or not, no mail came that day. There was no way that I was going to let her pick up the mail the next day. I knew that I escaped the fires of hell. You know what? I did escape. I intercepted the letter the next day. I found the $ 1.50 that was needed to pay the lady in my “piggy bank” and I never suffered the ire of my parents. And Denis never found out neither!
I did not make a mistake with the decimal point. $ 1.50 is what the bill was. That was to repair a full size sitting room window. Figure perhaps around 14" x 22" plus labor, I guess. It took me about 35 minutes of jiggling the coins out of the piggy bank with the aid of a butter knife.
This is perhaps one of the things that I will have to expiate in the after-life because I escaped atonement there for in this life.
