Year 10

Year 10. S says she that I make that exact same face as an adult as I do in this picture. I think that I want to wipe that smug smile right off that punk's face. But that's just how I roll. Strangely, I remember a lot about this picture. They tell you that sports are good for kids, that you learn camaraderie et al. Everybody tells you it's about playing the game not the winning and the losing. We were 14 and 2 that year, five games better than anyone else in our league. But we had to win a playoff game against one of those lowly teams. Me and this other kid had combined to throw a shutout in the previous playoff game, and now our best kid was throwing. Somehow, he didn't have it and we lost. And I remember standing around with the schedule of the games we were supposed to play bawling my eyes out. We we all crying. We knew that we'd lost something that we'd never be able to get back. I was ten, but I still remember it like it was yesterday. Be careful about whether you let your kids play t-ball.

This year I discovered basketball. On the first day me and this tall fourth grade kid won a game of 2 on 12 and became fast friends. In this year you got skipped up to a special math group and copied off your friend, who is now an accountant, because fractions and x and y are a language that you don't speak. You might as well have been being asked to translate Chinese. Most days though are about playing basketball. You hit the courts early, when the temp is still below forty degrees and play until the bell rings. You throw your lunch down after five minutes, so you can get a in a full forty minute game. You still remember the day that it snowed in Chico, and your team scored 100 points. We kept insane stats for no good reason. You remember running down court, the snow, falling softly, the whole scene surreal, and your team scoring 100.

Girls didn't even matter at ten. You remember this girl walking around saying, "Your socks don't match." And then, when they reached you, she gasped when she realized that your socks didn't actually match and pointed it out to the whole class. Screw you Georgie Dalton, I didn't start matching my socks until I was in my late twenties. You've got a memory like an elephant. But really, it's strange what things stick.

You remember your teacher reading the line "chinks in the roof" during the book Dragon Wings, and how you laughed at the racial slur that no one else seemed to get. It struck you as preposterous.

You remember performing a play on that same book, having to do a big part of it by yourself. You remember hamming it up a little, the kids laughing. Maybe the first time you enjoyed being in front of a group.

You remember your friend Tommy getting stabbed in the butt by a pencil and the teacher asking you two to go the bathroom and you to take a look at it. You walked to the bathroom and mutually decided that it was probably all right and a closer look wasn't needed.

You remember that teacher telling all the girls in the class that they should marry people like you and Tommy because you were smart and nice. You got an MFA in creative writing. How wrong was she?

Positives-Well, today I spent the evening with two ice packs on my knees and at work, I went to a meeting about how to get more out of other meetings. Then I went to another meeting. I don't think much more needs to be said. Hell, being ten, you just worry about whether your stroke is pure or not, nothing about whether you are taking proper notes on the agenda.

Scenario: We were given the advice in the meeting to "parking lot" some ideas. Ie table them until a later date to move on with the meeting. However, let me tell you, by the time I get to the parking lot if someone wants to talk to me about something to do with work, I want to shoot them in the f-ing head. No parking lots for me.

Negatives-Losing that baseball game. You probably won't forget it until vascular dementia kicks in.

Positive-Not even knowing the term vascular dementia.

Positive-Getting to play basketball every day without worrying about knee pain, or shoulder pain or whatever old man ailment plagues you on a particular week.