Dein erstes Forum » Flashes of memory stream into my consciousness

Flashes of memory stream into my consciousness. They take me back thirty years plus. I was a boy then Terry Steinbach Athletics Jersey , a newcomer to a poor and tough neighborhood. My parents, of moderate means and daring to a fault, had decided to move there after my father had accepted an editing job in the federal government. They had taken a lease on a low-rent brick house, which was also run-down, covered in filth, and littered with trash. I do not mince my words: Previous tenants had been pigs that got along with bugs and rats.


?The house has potential,? my mother had said to reassure me, seeing that I was aghast at its sordid aspects. Its one redeeming feature, besides its solid construction Rollie Fingers Athletics Jersey , was a large woody front yard, neglected, allowed to become a large dumping ground, as weedy as it was woody, but potentially attractive and pleasant, to be sure.


My mother was a hard worker with a great deal of stamina, creativity, and tastefulness. She mastered the art of doing wonders with little money. After three months of intense labor ? which for the first week involved a carpenter and two garbage collectors plus two dump trucks ? the house was transfigured, quite presentable Jose Canseco Athletics Jersey , even nice, much to my amazement. It now contrasted sharply, cuttingly, with the slums at the rear of the house and on the left of it. On the right was a school and at the front, across the street, was a nunnery on a large piece of land. My parents had conveniently focused their attention on these establishments, as if the good education and good disposition of their teachers and sisters could shield us from the evils of the slums.


Needless to say, they did not. Violence was rampant in this neck of the woods and I was elected punchbag with only one dissenting vote: mine! At the root of this violence was malevolence, which grows from resentment Catfish Hunter Athletics Jersey , after one has been subjected to mistreatment. As much as my family projected an image of distinction, the neighborhood boys were malevolent and violent toward me. To them this image of distinction was an act of humiliation; their feelings were hurt and it was natural for them to hurt me. Of course it is a lot worthier to elevate oneself than to abase someone else. It is also a lot harder, and nature spontaneously levels everything the easy way. Moral excellence relates to culture, is an acquired trait, by virtue of which a human is courageous and just, worthy of praise.


One winter evening, I was crossing the field next to the rink where I had played hockey, when a gang of hoodlums encircled me like a pack of wolves. There were six of them, one of whom ? a weakling who always relied on others to feel powerful ? lived three doors down Mark McGwire Athletics Jersey , east of my house, across the back street. The leader stepped forward and turned around with a snicker. ?Hey shithead, come and kiss my ass.? I was tempted to kick it, not kiss it. ?No thanks. Please let me go; I don't care for trouble.? As I was finishing my sentence, one of the boys lunged toward me from behind and shoved me forward. I dropped my hockey equipment and braced myself to fight and suffer. I was big for my age, but big is small when outnumbered by six to one.


Again the leader took the initiative; the fight was on. With several thrusts, punches, and kicks, I repelled my assailants momentarily Glenn Hubbard Athletics Jersey , until I was knocked and wrestled to the ground. Fists and feet hit me everywhere, nonstop, from all directions. Suddenly I heard a menacing shout and everyone slipped in a last blow before fleeing. A brave and kind man had caught sight of their misdeed and chosen to intervene, armed with a hockey stick. I was hurt but saved.


A few days later, still aching all over, I saw the weakling, alone by his house ? his hovel to be exact, which was covered with old imitation brick, torn in places Reggie Jackson Athletics Jersey , and infested with cockroaches, rats, and woodworms. His face was bruised and wet from weeping, as he screamed with rage, ?Fucking bastard, fucking bitch, fucking life, fuck, fuck Joe Morgan Athletics Jersey , fuck!? My anger was now tempered with compassion. I unclenched my fists, prompted by a desire to spare him. I could not demean myself to add pain to his pain, already so excessive that it overflowed in streams of tears and curses.