See Scott Run

Have you ever wondered why places that appear bright and shiny in your childhood memories seem dull and drab when you revisit them as adults? What a sad reality! Because my father was in the military, most of my childhood places remain as distant memories, and I think that's the way I like them. That's just a random thought and not really the purpose of this story.

When I was in 3rd grade, I went to a bright and shiny school in NYC on Governor's Island. We had recently moved to NY from CA, and unlike my school in CA, this school was indoors and all the rooms opened inwards into these large carpeted corridors, it was like the classrooms only had 3 walls and the 4th wall was the corridor.

Soooo, I was in my class and I remember we were sitting around the floor, I guess for story time, and we hear a commotion before we see anything. A female voice is yelling at someone to STOP RIGHT NOW! As our collective gaze riveted on the corridor, a small body goes tearing past my classroom closely pursued by an elderly teacher with white hair in a bun livid by the disobedience and defiance of the wayward youth. It was my older brother Scott. Older by 17 months. We were transfixed by the wonder of it all; the reversal of authority, we would have applauded if not restrained by the threat of censure.

I was thrilled by the audacity, I'll never forget that feeling, like a caged bird viewing the essence of freedom. Of course, he lived to regret that behavior and eventually learned the value of conformity, but that spirit lives in all of us.