There's a very good reason I was never a bad boy tho I could have turned out worse. I shoplifted. I wasn't always truthful. I recently confessed on this blog to having a short-lived infatuation with setting things on fire. & I was never really watched as a kid. I knew some boys who almost certainly had run-ins with the law & possibly even ended up with criminal records. I certainly knew people my age who were doing drugs & drinking & who may well have developed lifelong problems with that. I grew up very poor, mostly unsupervised, with lots of time on my hands & much of it alone. Why didn't I fall in with a bad crowd? Why didn't I take the step into the world of the "bad boy"?
One word: fear.
Now I can't tell you if I am naturally fearful. What I can tell you is that my mother almost certainly was. She was terrified of the world. Like she lived in the Australian outback where everything is poisonous. & she imparted that fear onto me & my siblings. Two of my older brothers were far more interested in drugs than I was, & I have heard some interesting stories of drug use & big parties that I would never have taken part in - but for some reason, they never ended up in jail, never had a criminal record. I think it was my mother's fear transferred to them.
Listen: I grew up with kids that happily left the apartment complexes we lived in & wandered far & wide, getting into all sort of mischief. Why didn't I do that - or my little brother, who was often my companion in my childhood? Because our mother told us there were dangers out there - you know, across the street. A block over. Where terrible shit happens.
She wouldn't let us go into public restrooms alone until we were probably ten or eleven years old. We had to go with her in the women's restroom which was embarrassing. Why? Because, she said, there was a man in the men's restroom with a knife who would cut your thing off. & I would think - why are they letting that guy do that? It seemed even to a seven-year-old to be bad for business.
One word: fear.
Now I can't tell you if I am naturally fearful. What I can tell you is that my mother almost certainly was. She was terrified of the world. Like she lived in the Australian outback where everything is poisonous. & she imparted that fear onto me & my siblings. Two of my older brothers were far more interested in drugs than I was, & I have heard some interesting stories of drug use & big parties that I would never have taken part in - but for some reason, they never ended up in jail, never had a criminal record. I think it was my mother's fear transferred to them.
Listen: I grew up with kids that happily left the apartment complexes we lived in & wandered far & wide, getting into all sort of mischief. Why didn't I do that - or my little brother, who was often my companion in my childhood? Because our mother told us there were dangers out there - you know, across the street. A block over. Where terrible shit happens.
She wouldn't let us go into public restrooms alone until we were probably ten or eleven years old. We had to go with her in the women's restroom which was embarrassing. Why? Because, she said, there was a man in the men's restroom with a knife who would cut your thing off. & I would think - why are they letting that guy do that? It seemed even to a seven-year-old to be bad for business.
How she imparted that fear seems to me to be through repetition. My mother would talk all the time. & as a little boy, sitting with her, I must've heard the same horror stories told in different variations over & over all through my childhood. To this day I hear her voice in situations where I might be alone or I might be experiencing something stressful & unfamiliar. I have to talk her down or I won't do the thing that I really, really want to do.
A few years ago, during the pandemic, my wife was jazzercising in the garage, & the song she was playing repeated the phrase "shake what your momma gave you" or something like that. & all I could think was, "I wish I could shake the crippling fear of the world my momma gave me."
& that's why I was never a bad boy.
A few years ago, during the pandemic, my wife was jazzercising in the garage, & the song she was playing repeated the phrase "shake what your momma gave you" or something like that. & all I could think was, "I wish I could shake the crippling fear of the world my momma gave me."
& that's why I was never a bad boy.
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