Addendum to John and Barbara

There were a few brave boys and girls who even in 5th grade made it clear that they were a "couple." The one couple I recall best was Marty F. and Cheryl P. You could see their initials written everywhere--always, "MF + CP -- on sidewalks, desks, playground equipment, street signs, etc.

Last summer, 2011, I was walking with my dog through the old neighborhood. I thought about MF+CP and wondered if I could still find one. Looking at an old section of sidewalk on Riverdale Drive, I spotted the very faint mark, etched in the ancient concrete, "MF+CP."

Call it "personal archaeology."

John and Barbara: Circa Flag Day, 1966

John and Barbara: Circa Flag Day, 1966

Today is June 14. This is Johnny K’s birthday. Flag Day. A day around the time that Oxford School used to close for the summer. This is about the last day of school, 46 years ago, and about Johnny K. and Barbara H.

It was an excellent last day of school. We sixth graders would be leaving Oxford forever, heading to our respective junior highs, either Adams or Smith, the following fall. Mr. Kodyk took us out to play softball. Co-ed teams, boys must bat opposite hand. I remember hitting a triple to right-center field. I remember my teammate, Jane P., smashing a ball way into the outfield. After the game I made sure to say “nice hit.” Girls were getting to be awesomely and painfully mysterious.

We didn’t do much for the rest of the afternoon. I think Kodyk let us go to the library or generally wander through the halls. We collected autographs from our classmates and former teachers. I still have most of mine. Maybe I’ll scan and post one day.

I remember being in the library around 2 PM, sitting at a table across from Vicki P. She was beautiful. I knew her a little. She wasn’t in my class, but we were both in Mrs. Shay’s reading class (the librarian who turned against me). We somehow started leg wrestling under the table and when I say wrestling I mean me trying to feel as much of her legs with mine as I could. It was hot.

Somehow I made it back to my seat in Kodyk’s room. And here’s where the story of John and Barbara sort of starts and ends.

Ever since maybe first grade, all John’s buddies knew he “liked” Barbara. It was just one of those things that we all knew, and we were pretty sure she liked him too. This “liking” business doesn’t really mean much until 5^th or 6^th grade. I mean, I had actually gone on a date with Wendy L. when we were in the 2^nd grade. Went skating at the Youth Center. Had ice cream. Went home.

But it’s in the 5^th and 6^th grade where a culture of boy-girl liking starts to emerge, a set of rules, driven pretty much by the girls, who use it as a form of social control. Boys begin trying to figure it out, like a sort-of-smart dog trying to behave so as to get a cookie from his owner. There is much failure here. But we gradually start to “get” the intricate web of notes, codes, hand signs, and various procedures that the girls have developed.

For example, if a girl wants to know if a boy likes her, she’ll send out scouts. The scouts won’t go directly to the boy in question, but to his friends. They’ll ask things like “who does Joey like?” or they’ll hint around – I know someone who likes someone you know!” Gradually, events and procedures spin into smaller circles that reveal the actual details of who is liking who.

On that last day of school, after an earlier series of technicalities and red tape, a procedure was developed that would allow Johnny K. to express his “like” for Barbara H. I played a key role. The plan was as follows: since Safety Boys (including Johnny and me) always left the class 5 minutes early, it was possible for a message to be delivered to Barbara after Johnny had left the room. So, when Johnny left, I would linger behind gathering my various crap to take home. On my way out, after Johnny was well down the hallway, I would have to cross the room to where Barbara sat and tell her who it was that set Johnny’s heart on fire.

I followed procedures to a tee. I walked over to Barbara’s desk and said, “It’s you!” She beamed.

I’m not sure, but I don’t believe they ever saw each other again until 10^th grade. At that time, they no longer knew each other.

Happy birthday, John!

A Mystery, partially solved

Years ago, back in the 60s, I knew this kid from Boy Scouts. He was a little twisted, but not outrageously so. Had this weird sense of humor, tossed an occasional grasshopper on the charcoal grill, and taught me that virtually any forest twig can be smoked like a cigarette. He hung around with my clique in junior high and seemed like an ok fellah. Around 1968 he moved away somewhere. I thought New Jersey, but now have discovered it was elsewhere. Why did I just discover this?

I’d been searching for him on Google, entering various search terms; his name followed by variations on “killed parents.”  You see, back around 1970, word got around my high school that the guy had shot his parents and that maybe it had something to do with drugs or abuse. None of my friends seemed to know anything. 

Around 1971 or 1972, he showed up again in my high school. “That’s strange,” I thought. 

I didn’t talk to him. He didn’t talk to me. We didn’t acknowledge each other at all. I think only kids in school have the ability to do this – to see old friends from years back and walk by them like they don’t exist. I can understand his reluctance to talk, but not my own. 

What had happened and how did he end up back in my high school after having supposedly done this awful deed? Since the dawn of the Internet, I would occasionally Google his name, maybe once every couple of years. Nothing showed up until yesterday—a very brief and vague mention on some community chat page about “whatever happened to …?”  

More Googling. I found some newspaper articles. Here’s what I learned.  

Around the summer of 1970, police were called to his house. Both his parents had been shot. He claimed a prowler had come in and done the deed, a possibility quickly dismissed by the police.  He was arrested and tried as an adult the following year. 

At that time, he testified that he saw his mother shoot his father, and then he shot her. Eventually he was convicted of manslaughter for having done so; but exonerated for the death of his father.  

Placed in the custody of his grandparents while awaiting sentencing, he returned to my high school, one year behind where he would have been if none of this had happened. I graduated in 1972. He would have graduated in 1973, but for the fact that the judge ruled he would have to report to prison in January of that year. The prosecutor maintained that this young man had “hoodwinked” the jury. 

That’s all I know right now. I wonder how where he is and how he’s doing. I hope he’s alright.