Been reading a tad bit too much Oscar Wilde the past few days, but I find myself helpless against it. Such a great writer for his time and it is refreshing to read about characters that bear no resemblance at all to me –seriously! Oscar writes, “One should always absorb the colors of life, but one should never remember its details. Details are almost always vulgar.” I’ve absorbed my fair share of the intrepid colors that life offers, yet I’ve also captured vivid memories of details along the way. I’ve usually found that the devil is truly in those details by the same token. So maybe he’s right.
We were in eighth grade back then, with all of the associated baggage that comes with being that age. My friend and I were boys when we knew each other, while now, many years later, we are men, and I say that to temper the tale that follows. It was a spring day—I can remember that clearly—a time when boys begin to pine for long summer days with no responsibility. Along with a severe distaste of being cooped up in regimented places like school with its classrooms and obligatory rules.
During the morning break we always seemed to find ourselves on the south end of the school near the mid-way point where the buses used to load. I’d never find that place today as the school has tripled in size with new buildings and a maze of never-ending sidewalks. But it wasn’t so at the time. My friend showed up with something squirming in his pockets, yet small things like that were not uncommon with him—again, the details I mentioned earlier. Calling me to the side of the small crowd of boys gathered there, he withdrew a slimy, foot-long length of green evil from his pocket that seemed to go on and on as he removed it from its improvised lair. It was a grass snake!
It writhed and twisted up and down his arm, maybe trying to escape, or maybe basking in the glow of our undivided attention. Snakes have a tendency to do that—ask Eve. The thought of created evil, yet non-potent in this case, is a pretty powerful drawing card among boys of that age. So anyway, once you begin to tire of a snake there is only one thing to do; move on to something else or up the ante. By this point of the event, I happened to be innocently holding the snake, but not for long. You see, the girl’s bathroom window chanced to be located strategically behind us, and the place itself was known to be well populated during the morning break period. It was at this precise moment in time that I met with one of Mr. Wilde’s uncanny details.
Someone (not me) came up with the idea of how much fun it would be to toss that snake up and through the window into the midst of the girls sure to be residing there… doing whatever girls do in those situations. (Fixing their hair? Applying make-up? Smoking?) Peer pressure is an amazing thing; almost narcotic when put into practice. I knew it was wrong. I knew it would scare the girls. I knew if I got caught, there would be trouble for me not only down the hall in the office, but also at home later on that evening. Still, I was certain not to perform the deed would somehow lessen me in the viewpoint of my friends. It would possibly make me not accepted, less cool—probably ruining any chance I’d have to be well thought of by my fellow eighth grade compatriots.
I tossed the snake in through the open window.
The ensuing detonation can be perceived as comparable to the whooping battle cries of the Indians at Little Big Horn. An explosion of screams blasted through the windows, and spilled out through the adjacent building-doorway that led to the hall as girls began to frantically vacate the now-caustic rest room. We fell over ourselves in laughter; my friend actually on the ground and rolling. It was the best prank ever, and we were its heroic perpetrators!
That is, until we realized the Assistant Principal had been secretly watching us the whole time from a hidden vantage point. I was in the middle of a play-by-play recap when I felt his firm grip on my shoulder. I looked up into his furious face as he sternly asked, “Why’d you go and do that?” Immediately, what began as a group prank swiftly transcended into “Shannon did it!”
I wound up on the receiving end of some serious corporal punishment, which was still in fashion at the time. Looking back, I was thankful that that was as far as it went –there were no phone calls to my parents and it was graciously handled in-house with no further repercussions. No girls were injured, physically at least, and the snake was dispatched by the janitor to a much quieter place, I assume. Ah, the days of our youth—they are like flowers in our hands, but sometimes the fragrance continues long afterward!
Whatever.
I was a good kid. I contend as much to this day. My friend and I both (eventually) grew up and we are none the worse for wear for it. In time, thankfully, I was able to understand the sordid truth about peer pressure, explained so eloquently by Peter: “That he no longer should live the rest of his time in the flesh to the lusts of men, but to the will of G_d.”
I’ve found there’s a lot less of those devilish details to worry about when I live my life as such.
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