More Stories From My Youth

(Note: On 7/22/17 I wrote a post entitled "Lessons From My Childhood." It turned out to be a rather popular post. Therefore, what follows are some additional stories.)

I started getting some numbness and tingling down my legs when I was 15 years old. By age 16 the numbness and tingling disappeared, replaced by severe pain and burning. The pain necessitated the use of a cane, as the pain radiated into the right groin making it impossible to fully extend my leg, and nearly impossible to put any weight on that side while walking. When the pain was at its worst, I would lay in bed for 48 to 50 hours straight without one second of sleep, unable to find any position which would allow me to have even a few minutes of respite. Needless to say, I missed a lot of high school. The unremitting pain and lack of sleep at times caused me to wish that I was dead.

On the bright side, I did have people come to visit me while I was laid up. Two girls with whom I was friendly were regular visitors. One, I grew up with in the neighborhood, and the other I met in school. Although I am rarely in touch with either one, I remain grateful for their visits and the comfort that they provided. One of "the boys" with whom I remain friends, lived directly downstairs from us. His parents would both come up to see me. His Mom would bring me candy, and sit and talk with me. His Dad would stand at the door to my room and yell: "What are you doing? Get out of that bed!" I did not take it well. A number of years passed by before I understood what he was doing. He did not want me to be a victim, or to play the sick role. He pushed me to do the best that I could do, given my circumstances. I did not get it at the time.

I was very shy throughout public school. I was fine with "the boys" (as I call them), but I was always reluctant to speak in class. Missing so much high school did not exactly enhance my self-confidence and interaction with my classmates. College, however, was another matter altogether. I was able to find my voice, and break out of my shell. I became a schmoozer; and, as those who know me are aware, I remain a schmoozer to this day. I have, at times, been criticized for taking up too much of people's time with schmoozing, especially in the work setting. However, I always make it a point of trying to establish a personal relationship, even with those who hold adversarial positions.

One time, years ago, when my wife and I were in Las Vegas, we were walking through a very long hallway from one hotel to another. Halfway through the hallway was an older gentleman (probably younger than I am now) with a walkie-talkie. He was obviously employed by one or both of the hotels, not to be a security guard, but to call in any accidents or disturbances or the like. As I watched dozens and dozens of people walk right by him, I walked up to him and engaged him in conversation. The conversation lasted maybe 15-20 minutes. By the time we were done and we were walking away, he was smiling and I felt like I made his day. Therefore, I will gladly accept the criticism of, at times, carrying on for too long, if I have succeeded in brightening the day of even one person.

When we were kids, before my back problems, we would play so many different sports - punch ball, wiffle ball, stick ball, touch football and various other outdoor games. We rarely lacked the necessary number of participants, growing up in an apartment complex, with another apartment complex and single family homes nearby. We were kids who would choose up sides. No parents were involved, or watching. We made up rules as the number of players and size of the field warranted. And we had fun. Sometimes my team won, and sometimes we lost; well, except for punch ball. I happened to be the undisputed best punch ball player, and whichever side I was on won. In punch ball you would hold the Spalding rubber ball in one hand, toss it up slightly, and punch it with the other hand. I was just a little guy, but it was all in the technique, the flexing of the wrist.

Childhood sports brings me to another topic. I attended Hebrew school two days per week, starting after public school ended, during fourth, fifth, sixth and seventh grades, after which I became a Bar Mitzvah. However, while I did well in public school and Hebrew school, we got a separate grade for attending Saturday morning Junior Congregation. For that, I would usually get an "F." You see, all the boys in the neighborhood would be up and playing outside on Saturday mornings. On the one hand, I am glad I participated in the sports, as I did go on the DL at age 15, ending my would-be sports career. Okay, I never would have made it in any sport, but it was fun. On the other hand, in my later years, up to and including today, I regret not having attended Junior Congregation, leaving me somewhat deficient in my Hebrew language skills.

I am fortunate to have remained friends with "the boys" with whom I grew up. I have also remained friends with two of the guys I met in college. One became a family doctor, having known that being a doctor was his long time calling. The other became an attorney, rising to a high level in his state's government. While we shared similar political views in college, I have undoubtedly moved further to the right than they have. While some believe it is impossible to be friends with those who hold opposing political views, I am not of that mind. These two honorable men, of fine moral character, are men that I am proud to call "friend."

When my brother and I were kids, our parents bought the World Book Encyclopedia for us. It was, to me, one of the best presents ever. In the age of the world before computers, the World Book opened up the entire world to us. Pick a country, pick a scientific issue, pick a president, pick some historic event or era - it was all at our fingertips. The entire world. History, geography, science. I have had an unending interest in learning ever since, and I can never thank my parents enough.