Clothes Not Good Enough

It was September 19th, 1968, just another school day for me. That morning my Mom woke me up at lest a million times saying; “Its time to get ready for school”. Then when I did get up, I couldn’t find my pants. I went down stairs and Mom had my pants spread out on top of the kitchen table of all places. I said; “What are you doing Mom?”

She replied; “I saw these iron on patches in the Five and Dime store, so I got them for you and ironed them on your paints this morning. Now maybe all the other kids won’t make fun of your pants because they have holes in the knees.” But I knew most of them would anyway. They think “THEY” are so much better than everybody else because of the clothes they wear. If I traded clothes with them, then they would be all the things they are calling me now. The joke is on them, when you think of it that way.

My Mother ment well, but she ironed the patches on the outside. My best friend Clyde has to wear patches on his clothes too. Only his Mom irons them on the inside, instead of on the outside. I hope Clyde is in school today, he has been absent all week and I don’t know why.

On the way to school each day I walk by a big church made of fine hand cut stones. It’s every bit as big as the school is where I go. I wonder all the time what it looks like on the inside. It has a bell tower with lots of bells and they play music each day at noon. When I’m outside playing on the playground at noon, I stop and listen to the bells play. The other kids make fun of me for that to, but for some reason I don’t get mad about that.

On the way to and from school, I make it a point to cross the street and walk on that side past the church everyday. I wanted to touch the church every time I walked past it, but I thought God might get mad if somebody like me touched one of his churches or anything else that belonged to him.

After a really bad day at school one-day, I walk close enough to the church to actually touch it. I didn’t know what God would do if I did touch it, but I felt like I just had to. But I was afraid to without asking first, so I said in a whisper; “God please don’t kill me for touching your stuff.” I wiped off my hands and touched one of the cut stones. I kept my eyes closed just in case. I didn’t want to see it coming if God got mad and decided to killed me.

When I touched the wall, all my hurts felt like they poured out through my fingertips like water and was absorbed in the stones. I felt good with all the bad things gone and decided to touch the church everyday from now on.

As soon as I walked on the school playground, I saw Carmen and all her uppity friends picking on somebody. When I got closer, I could hear them repeating “Baby Killer, Baby Killer” and spitting on some kid lying on the ground. Then I made out who it was; it was my best friend Clyde. I said; “Hey, you Knot-heads better leave Clyde alone.”

Then they turned and started spitting at me. I spit right back and I could spit further than any of them could. It didn’t take long to chase them away; it seems they didn’t like to be spit on either. Clyde was still laying on the ground crying when I got back to him.

I said; “Where ya been all week Clyde, I missed you?” Clyde didn’t say anything. I knew that Clyde’s Dad was in the Army and fighting a war in someplace called Vietnam? His Dad was just a private and that’s why Clyde had to wear patches on his clothes like I did. My Dad is a self-employed carpenter; he doesn’t work for a company anymore. Dad says he can make more on his own. Some times he takes me along to help out on a job.

The bell rang and we stood in the line for our 5th grade class until everyone got lined up off the playground to go in. Carmen was also in our class and standing in our line to go in. She turned around and said, “Look at my new bell bottoms pants. My Mom spent over $60 dollars of her welfare check just on my new clothes. Where did your Moms get your clothes, looks like she found then in the trash? They shouldn’t let kids like you and Clyde come to our school. They should have the city dump as your school.”

I didn’t know exactly what a welfare check was. But I did know that everybody that got one of these checks had alot better clothes and stuff than Clyde and me had. It wasn’t our fault that our families didn’t qualify for a welfare check each month. We sure didn’t like having to wear clothes that everyone else in school made fun of us for wearing.

In class the teacher explained to everyone that Clyde had missed school for the past few days because his Dad was hurt real bad in a helicopter crash, it was shot down in Vietnam last week. Carmen said; My Mom watches that war on TV everyday at 5pm. My Mom says people like Clyde’s Dad is only over there so they can shoot babies and not get arrested for it.

The Teacher said; Carmen your Mother doesn’t know what she is talking about half the time, I know because I went to school with your Mother. Carmen said; My Mother pays your salary and she can have you fired any time she wants to. The Teacher said; Your Mother probably could have me fired anytime she wants to, but she has it backwards about who is paying who’s way.

When the 3:10 bell rings, school day is officially over for the day. I’m usually out the door by 3:10 and a half. Most of the time Clyde is next after me. But Clyde went home early today because the other kids kept being so mean to him about his Dad being in the Army. Each time the teacher left the room they would start on him. This bunch feels real tough when the odds are 25 against one, and Clyde never fights back or says anything back.

Parked out in front of the school that day was my Dad’s old beat up truck, he was there to pick me up. All the kids laughed as I climbed in it. I knew tomorrow would be as much fun in school as today was now. Dad said; “I need you to help me finish a job I’m working on down the street. It will only take about an hour to get it done and get paid.”

I knew that ment he needed me to carry boards, fetch tools or sweep up. I didn’t mind helping my Dad because every once in a while he would drive a nail part of the way into a board, then hand me the hammer say, Finish it. The trouble was My Dad couldn’t pass by a Bar without stopping, and when he stooped he stayed until it closed. I sure hoped there wasn’t any Bars alone the way to this job.

We made it just fine to the hardware store for my Dad to pick up some nails he needed to finish the job. Usually I had to sit in the truck to watch the tools, but today the tools were already on the job where he had been working. So I asked if I could go in and see what was inside? He said; “OK, but I only have enough money to buy what nails I need to finish the job, so don’t ask for anything.” I just wanted to see what all was in there.

We went inside and he told me to stand there in the front, while he went in the back to get the nails. They had a little section of toys, I was just looking to see what kind they had. A package with plastic Army men and a jeep in it caught my attention. About that time my Dad returned and said; “Do you see anything there you want?” I said; “No Dad, just looking.” He said; Well Son, if you want something go ahead and get it.

Puzzled I said; “I thought you didn’t have any money?” He said; I don’t, but I have your money. Then he handed me 2 quarters. I picked up the package and laid it on the check out counter behind us. The man said; “That comes to 39 cents young man.”

It was the first time I had ever bought anything myself. The man gave me back change and I handed it towards my Dad. He said; Oh no, it’s your change, you put it in your pocket. I couldn’t figure out why all of the sudden my Dad gave me money to spend. Maybe we aren’t as poor as we use to be now, or maybe it’s because I work hard without complaining about it.

As we walked out of the hardware store, I pictured in my mind us being partners together someday; “Father and Son Construction Company Inc.” We would walk on a job, both of us carring our own tool box. He would say to me; Son, you take that side, and I’ll take this side, together we’ll knock this job out in no time at all. Then I’d say; “Right Dad.”

As we walking across the parking lot, my head was full of dreams. But when we got in the truck his attitude completely changed, like it does every time after he starts drinking. He must have already had a few drinks on the way to pick me up. Dad said; “I hope you’re happy, you just took food off the kitchen table to get a bag of toys you don’t even need. You already have more stuff than any other kid your age has.” He said that like he actually believed this was true.

Dad must think I’m blind or stupid. I know what kind of stuff the other kids have, and I know what kind of stuff I don’t have. I don’t wish for much. When I see a kid ride by my house on a new bike, I don’t wish that I had his new bike, I just wish that someday I could have his old one to ride.

He went on and on; “I told you not to ask for anything and that I didn’t have any money. You just had to catch me in front of a bunch of people and pull a stunt like that. Having a kid like you would drive any man to drinking.”

Then he pulled a whiskey bottle from under the seat; it was already about empty. I knew what this ment, straight to the nearest Bar. He found one and parked the truck. I said; Dad please don’t go in there, let’s go on and do the job. He said; “I have to get something to settle my nerves. I never drank a drop until you were born, now I have to drink, not because I want to, but because you make me do it. It’s your fault I have to go in there.”

I sat there in the truck for about 3 hours, thats along time not to use the bathroom or not be able to get a drink of water. Some of the Bars have a water hose faucet somewhere, this is how I usually get a drink, but this one didn’t have one. I looked around and saw a man sitting on his front porch. I got out of the truck and asked him for a drink of water.

He said; I don’t know you, what are you doing around here? I said; I don’t live around here, I’m waiting for my Dad, he is over there in the Bar. In the man’s hand, he was holding a glass of Ice Tea. He held the glass out like he was going to hand it to me. But instead he poured the Tea out on the ground and said; I don’t have any water, get out of here you little brat. I went back to sit in the truck and wait. I saw the man go back inside his house.

He must have called the Bar, because about a minute later my Dad came out. He said; “ Haven’t you done enough already? Now I can’t even sit down for five minutes and have a beer, without someone calling the Bar to tell me you’re out here bothering everybody in the neighborhood. Get in here where I can keep both eyes on you.”

The Bar was a licensed Bar and “grill.” Since they also sold food, the law allowed minors in. We weren’t in there 15 minutes until a fight broke out at the pool table. I got trampled over and sprayed in the face with Mace. Dad took me to the bathroom and tried to wash some of it out of my eyes. It was burning so bad I couldn’t see for a while. I said; Why don’t we leave this awful place? He said; “We’re not going any place until I finish my beer.”

I sat there for hours watching as he pulled money out of his pocket to buy this person a beer and then another and another. Where was all this money coming from? Why wasn’t buying beer for all these bums taking food off our kitchen table? Now I know why there is never any money to buy school clothes. I’m made fun of at school so he can buy beer for bums in a Bar.

Finally the Bartender announced “Last drink” and everyone wanted one more for the road. A couple minutes later he stopped serving drinks and turned on all the lights to clean up. Everyone acted like cockroaches and ran from lights. Dad zig zaged his way to the truck and vomited all over the seat. This was followed by no less than ten minutes of dry heaves.

The ride home is the part I always hate the most, Dad acts like this old truck is a race-car and that he is the best driver that ever was. He started the truck and took off spinning tires. I said; Slow down, your going to kill somebody. He said; “I drive better after I’ve had a few beers.”

A few blocks later he ran a stop sign and a city bus nearly plowed into my side of the truck. Dad of course seen nothing, so there for; there was no stop sign and there was no city bus about hit us on my side of the truck. A couple miles down the road we started around a curve, I saw car lights. Then I heard tires skidding, alot of glass breaking and metal smashing together.

Now something very heavy was laying on my back and I couldn’t move. My face was pressed hard into the dirt. I could barely breathe with so much weight pressing down on me. I tried to yell, but only a whisper came out. I heard people taking in the distance and a woman crying for somebody to get her out. It seems she was trapped in her car. I think this is my Dad’s truck laying on me. I didn’t hear anybody that sounded like my Dad talking.

I started to cry because maybe my Dad was dead. I knew we must have hit that woman’s car, and maybe some of her family was killed or she might die because we hit her car. I hear a siren coming, which is a good sound to hear when you need help. Then I realized that nobody knows I’m under here. Who is going to tell them that I need help?

After what seemed like hours, someone noticed the package of toy Army men and said; There may have been a child, I found some toys in the wreckage over here!

I heard some one else saying; Was there a child with you, wake up, was there a child in your truck? I knew they must be talking to my Dad, he wasn’t dead after all. Come on Dad tell them I was with you, tell them so they will know to look hard until they find me.

I heard the voice asking again; Was there a child with you? Then he told the others; I can’t get anything out of this drunk, all he can say is; “Give me a beer.” Look around while I call for a K-9 unit.

I thought to myself; I wonder what a K-9 unit is? It must be something they use special, “K” must stand for kid. I don’t know what the “9” stands for? But I hope it hurries up and gets here. It’s getting harder for me to breathe.

A few minutes later they got the woman out of her car and rushed her off to the hospital in an ambulance. I hope that she is all right and doesn’t die. I heard one of the policemen say that he hand cuffed the drunk to a fence so he wouldn’t vomit in the back of his cruiser. I know what thats like; the smell of beer vomit makes me gag all the way home sometimes.

I heard someone say; Here comes the K-9 unit, everybody get back. I was wondering how big is this K-9 unit? If everyone has to get back it must be real big. Maybe they know I’m under here and this K-9 unit is a big crane to lift the truck off me. I hope it can pick this truck up without dropping it, I’d get smashed for sure that way.

I heard a dog sniffing around, somebody said; “Let him smell the toy bag.” What were they doing? I hope they’re not trying to feed some dog my toys. Then the dog started digging close to me and barking. He ate my toys, now he wants to eat me. This K-9 unit is a dog that eats kids, after he eats me they will probable call him K-10. I don’t want to be the tenth kid this dog eats.

They must know that I have to wear patches and because of this, they think I’m worth saving. I’m not always going to have to wear patches on my clothes. Someday I’ll have new ones, and then I’ll be allowed to go inside the big stone church, like all the other people with nice clothes that go there. I’ll take Clyde along with me and if he still can’t afford new clothes, then I’ll buy some for him. I don’t think it would be right, if I went to church and didn’t take along my best friend.

Then God would recognize who we are, and call us by our own name. From then on, every time God and me would meet I could say; “Hello God.” And God could say; “Hello John.” He might even shake my hand and ask me how I like living in Heaven with him? I’d say; It sure is a great place !!!!!

The men got shovels and started helping the dog to dig. I could see a little crack of light shinning between the truck and the ground. It must be coming from some of their flashlights. Then somebody got a hold of my hand and squeezed it. I squeezed theirs right back. They said; The child is still alive!

They finally dug me out and took me over to where my Dad was. He looked at the policeman and said; “He is the one that caused me to wreak, he was playing around and hit the steering wheel and caused me to hit that other car.” I don’t know why he blames me for everything when he’s drinking; he doesn’t do that when he hasn’t been drinking. As soon as he takes a drink he acts like the kids at school. Except, I think he hates me more than they do.

I wish I had a father that would love me all the time, even if sometimes I mess up a little bit without meaning to. I don’t know if there is any fathers like that, at lest I’ve never heard of any fathers like that. Who knows maybe there is a father like that some place, if there is I’d like for somebody to invite my Dad and me to meet him? I don’t think my Dad and I will meet any good fathers in a Bar. I haven’t heard of any at school. If I ever get good enough clothes so they will let me in a church, maybe I’ll find one there.

Written 3-17-01 By Johnny Lee Hall
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