trashed

When I was in the third grade, I had a tremendous crush on a little boy named Darryl Gates.  (No, not the former Chief of the LAPD).  He had dirty blond hair and happy brown eyes.  I distinctly remember him in an orange shirt with brown lowrider Levi's cords (which were the fashion at the time).  Now, if there was one thing about Darryl Gates that was a tad off-putting, it was that he was reaaaaaally puny.  Given that I was probably--at best--between the third and fifth percentiles for height in my age group, you might think I was in no position to complain.  However, Darryl was even punier than me. If you have ever met me in person, you will understand how very remarkably puny he must have been. 

And yet.  The way Darryl's cowlick made his stick-straight dirty blond hair flop over to one side more than compensated for the puny.  Also, he was a pretty good athlete.  Since I was generously inclined to overlook his size, the only real obstacle to a meaningful relationship with Darryl Gates was the fact that he never paid one bit of attention to me.  Of course, this could only mean that he was shy, something I found even more appealing.  (But see The Case of Danny Harris, another boy in the same class with a different approach whom I did not find appealing.)

One day in class, Mrs. Terranova asked Darryl to walk down to the P.E. closet to get some balls for a dodgeball game.  This request demonstrated that Mrs. Terranova also thought highly of my Darryl--maybe she was also attracted to the cowlick?--because only the special ones were chosen to complete tasks requiring independence outside the classroom.  (I once got asked to go fetch the piano for music class. I was wheeling it down the hall back to homeroom and really got my momentum up,  so much so that when I tried to 'round the corner I accidentally tipped it over to the tune (if you will) of $300 worth of broken.  Oops. They never asked me to do that again.)

Darryl left the class to go get the balls for P.E. 

After about five minutes, Mrs. Terranova began to wonder where Darryl was, as did I. The P.E. closet was only down the hall, after all.  So the class lined up in formation and Mrs. Terranova marched us down the hall, hoping to pick up Darryl along the way.  As we approached the corner we could hear the faintest little "Help.  Help." coming from the closet, as if from the mouth of a Who down in Whoville.

Since I was at the front of the line, when Mrs. Terranova opened the door I could see Darryl's feet sticking out of the giant trash can-sized box that held the red balls.  Apparently he had leaned in to grab a few and got stuck between the balls somehow in an upside down position.  Had I not known any better, I would have thought he was foraging for trash. 

Many, many years later--the other day in fact--Bell was out in the backyard pulling weeds and cutting roses and doing whatever you people who garden do.  It was a bazillion degrees out in that hot sun but he was working like the farm boy he was destined to be.  He had big green-waste receptacle was in front of him, tilted toward him for easy access.  I came out to the backyard to say "hi" as he was leaning forward to put clippings in the receptacle.  He lost his balance and fell completely inside, head first.  One minute he was about to kiss me "hello," the next he's showing me the soles of his shoes.  Then Kai, who witnessed the debacle from the sunroom, yelled out, "Whaddya doin' out there Dad, dumpster diving? Ha ha!" It was a beautiful moment.

So for the last few days, everytime I get the image of my tall handsome sweaty husband falling into the trashcan, or indeed, every time I see anyone bend over in a vulnerable position it makes me think of my tall handsome sweaty husband falling into the trashcan, and this makes me smile really big.  That is one reason why I am still head over heels in love with him. 

Comments

[fringes]

Lovely story. I cannot think of my usual sarcastic rejoinder, so I shall leave it at that. I think I even sniffled while reading it.

[Chili]

D,

Thank you for that. I haven't laughed so hard in ages. Seriously - I was laughing so loudly the dog was startled. The image of Darryl and Bell's feet sticking out of the can makes me snort with laughter.

Love your blog and your very articulate style of writing.

Chili.

[Gil]

I've never understood "head over heels."

My head is normally above my heels.

Seems like it should be "heels over head."

[Glen]

I'm just amused that Kai already knows about dumpster-diving. Does he also know about freegans?

[dgm]

fringes, was it the part about how darryl didn't pay any attention to me that moved you most?

chili, at your service. thanks for stopping by.

gil, apparently it started out as "heels over head" back in the 14th century (although i'm not suggesting you were around then.)

glen, i have no idea where he learned about dumpster diving, but i know it wasn't from me. he hasn't mentioned the freegans yet, probably because he's secretly planning to join them once he figures out how to rebel against our shameless capitalism.

or not.

[Gil]

I wouldn't have thought you were suggesting that I was around in the 14th century if you hadn't, umm, suggested it.