Unpacking Baggage

Just going through my luggage, clearing out some things to make way for enlightenment

When I started blogging (that sounds kinda nasty) it was solely a means to do a bit of self exploration. I was really addressing myself and I still am, but it has become increasingly clear that other people really are reading my musings. A lot of other people! The feedback has been absolutely phenomenal. I get a kind word just about every day and it has really been a straight up gas! I won't be quitting my day job to write full time, but I am now seriously entertaining the possibility of publishing something again. Today I received an email from Kim, whom I've known for the better portion of my life. She happened by the blog and sent the following:

Kim was actually there at the very beginning. We attended 5th grade together at Gregory School. We did a bid in 4th grade at Garfield School too, but 5th grade... that was a great year! My recollection of 5th grade surpasses all others for the quantity and quality of things that I recall. I remember it as a charmed period. We were in Mr. Somma's class. His classroom was the first door on the right when you came up the stairs from the playground. I think Mrs. Rymer's fourth grade class was in the room next to ours, but I can't be sure (I think Tyra was in that class, but again, some things are foggy). We had a very lively class.

Some of my favorite people were in that class... Veronica "Peek-a-boo" Wilder, Sondra Horton, Jackie Mooney, Caroline Yale, and of course, Kim Colbert. There were boys, besides me, in the class too, but I don't remember exactly who, except Roy Monroe, Claude Pitts (I think), and Joe Scalzo. Joe was actually part of the team that installed vinyl siding on our house last winter. I was floored when he asked if I remembered 5th grade and the play I wrote. We all lived within walking distance of school. I used to go home for lunch and watch Young and the Restless and Search for Tomorrow. That was also the first year I began to write fiction. The soap operas were absolutely a direct influence because the writing was episodic and very grown and sexy (or rather an eleven-year-old's idea of grown and sexy).

I'm not sure what came first, the play or the story, but I began writing a play that I would get the chance to direct on the playground each day. There was a ridiculous number of characters, which meant parts for everyone. It was definitely an attempt to create a new reality as each character was named after a member of my extended family. Aside from the names there was no resemblence to anyone in my life. I remember it being an incredible amount of fun to write, though. Through the years I've kept and revised it to reflect where my head was at the moment. I still have it even though I realized long ago that it was trash.

The story was another thing altogether. That was also the year I discovered racy, paperback novels complete with sexual encounters. Stuff I definitely had no business reading, but at least I was reading. Those books inspired me to write my own filthy epic tale. It was part Gilligan's Island, part Fantasy Island and pure filfth. The title, if I correctly recall, was SST Sex Flight. The story centered around an airline that existed to satisfy the carnal desires of it's customers. It was just nasty. Anyway... the plane crashed on a deserted island and the folks had to create an inhabitable place, but of course, their carnal desires still had to be met. Their creativity and ingenuity came directly from Gilligan's Island. I always loved the fact that their huts we're so comfortable. I drew from everywhere I could to write this story, but I also incorporated bits and pieces of some of the raciest nastiest things I had read. It got passed around and eventually ended up in the hands of Mr. Somma. I was mortified and spent the rest of that year waiting for those pages to make it to my home. I don't think they ever did, but I clearly remember my final progress report for that year, where he wrote something about me having a talent for creative writing.

Over the years I wondered what happened to that story and sometimes entertained the notion of asking Mr. Somma if I could get it back. I also wondered what may have gone through his mind when he read it... certainly what a perverted little bastard I was. Now that I have reached an age where I am older than he at the time he was our teacher, I can imagine he must have laughed his ass off. And I also realize why I remember the year so clearly. It was the beginning of the hormone rage. I'm able to make the connection because I've had the experience of teaching a 5th grade class. They were HORRIBLE and the sole reason that I gave up the idea of elementary education as a career. It is truly that period where the chemistry is changing or about to. I have a whole new appreciation for Mr. Somma for putting up with that crap on the regular for as long as he did. I hope I one day get the opportunity to tell him.