There are times shells, or walls, are necessary.. Neither hiding nor revealing ourselves will prevent our share of pain, but in being who we are, we get to be part of the Universal stream, not just a nut in a shell waiting to fall.–Mark Nepo
Danny B…….s and I were neighbors from1968-1969. We both were, at times, exuberant and rambunctious lads, and enjoyed playing hard and having fun several times together, though we were not best friends. Danny’s father, Greg, and my father were to become acquainted, as well, and they both knew how to put an entertaining story together, and keep each other’s interest
One afternoon Greg walked down the road to our house, and engaged my father in conversation. Greg had a serious , concerned look on his face. I hung around them a bit, overhearing bits and pieces of their exchanges while kicking my football through imaginary goal posts on our roof.
Greg stated that he and his wife were getting divorced. Greg had caught his wife having an affair while he was out of town, which happened frequently for his employment. And, there was more than one instance of this behavior with other men. Greg called his wife a whore, a term I had not heard used before, though I knew what it might mean.
The next day, Danny and I happened to be exploring a vast field east of our homes. I casually mentioned that his father had come down to speak to my father the day before. Danny asked what I thought they might have talked about.
“Umm, Danny, your father said your mother is a whore, and that they are getting divorced”.
“That is not true! You take that back you bastard!” Danny exclaimed in an anger I had not seen from a playmate before.
“Why would I take this back, Danny? This is from your dad! It ain’t going to change anything for you!” I yelled back at him, a bit intense and now defensive.
He then wrestled with me for a while. He was a little bigger than me, but we were almost equal in strength. After more wrestling around on the ground, he got me in a leg lock around my mid section, and squeezed me with all of the strength he could muster.
“Take that back, or I will squeeze you to death!”
It was a decidedly uncomfortable position to be in. I was trapped and helpless, and he was inhibiting my ability to breathe.
“Danny, what purpose is there for me to take your father’s statements back. Go talk to your dad, and leave me the fuck alone!”
“Take it back. Take it back! TAKE IT BACK!” He then squeezed harder, like his life depended upon it.
“Jesus, Danny, I need to breathe! If this gets me out of your leg lock, then I take it back. ”
He then released me.
“Go fuck yourself, and stay away from me!” Exclaimed Danny
I never hung out with him again.
Danny was to get into multiple skirmishes with the law, eventuating in his extended imprisonment, first in county jail, and then in the Oregon State penitentiary several years later.
Me?
I still can feel Danny’s legs squeezing the life out of me, when I feel obligated to tell the truth.
The writing of book #8 is a true miracle for me, I had to overcome our culture’s conspiracy of silence and denial, its leg lock upon my soul, and my own internalization of its oppressive qualities
Religious irrationality, anti-social and Earth destroying capitalist economic philosophy, and family traumatic engagement with each other is the leg lock around our capacity to speak the difficult truth, heal from the damaging effects of its oppression,, and move forward in a healed life.
True freedom is the path, and the goal, of all healthy life experience, and the only reason that I am still here..
