Living in a household with such strong moral religious values sometimes had its downfalls. It was bad enough having to fight over the use of the bathroom on a daily basis. Some topics weren't open for discussion, especially from an intuitive five year old. A huge built in linen closet was next to the bathroom entrance. It held the latest craze of toiletries for the time that none of us boys were permitted to touch, especially the "Five Day Deodorant Pads". One day, I heard my youngest aunt explain to my grandmother that she was having her period and didn't have any pads. I had no clue what a period was, other than being taught how to use one in a sentence. I already knew that I wasn't going to get any answers from asking anyone in the house, but occasionally my mom tried to explain things when she could. When I finally got the opportunity to ask her, she told me in very little detail that a period is when a girl bleeds and left it at that. The next day, I crossed paths with my aunt as we were trying to get ready for school. Unbeknownst to me, she nicked herself shaving her underarms and still hadn't applied her deodorant yet. I observed as she grabbed the "Five Day Deodorant Pads" and in my innocent mind put two and two together for myself. From that moment on, whenever the utterance of someone having their period became audibly available for my open ears to hear, I thought to myself "Oh that must really suck .. to bleed from you armpits for seven days and have pads that only last for five."The kindergarten school year seemed to pass just as quick as it started. Since the church staff knew my grandparents for years, I became known to everyone almost overnight. Six teachers took the responsibility of handling the needs of the grade levels. Most parents volunteered to be part of the kitchen staff for preparing daily lunches, but since the kindergarten class only lasted for half a day, we usually headed home before lunch was served. By this time, my parents reconciled while Spring break was in full swing. We moved back into the apartment in Hazel Park. Not much changed from our time away since the atmosphere remained dark and draining. The only apparent change that waited for me was having to finish kindergarten in a school full of kids I didn't know. The nature of my character aided as a perfect catalyst to make the transition a smooth one. It only took a few months for the seizures to return, though the level of fear decreased significantly. My mom took me to specialists to understand why the seizures kept reoccurring. Given their best explanation, they told my mom that my organs and bone structure advanced in growth at too fast a pace for my skin to keep up. This didn't make sense to me since no seizures occurred during my time in Midland. I experienced an occasional bad dream, but nothing more. Ultimately as the seizures slowly progressed, my fears shifted away from the initial source that caused them and averted to my mother's level of frustration as it seemed to escalate with every occurrence of dealing with the aftermath. The experience of regaining consciousness after having a seizure and waking up to realize you're being spanked, really pushes the feeling of confusion to a new level.
The neighborhood changed as new families moved in and others moved out. The discovery of kids my own age meant that playtime offered greater adventures. Though my brother and I kept close with nearly everything we did together, a few times I was approached to take part in other activities. An Irish kid who lived across the street asked me if I wanted to buy some comic books from him. It astounded me to think I looked wealthy to him, but I remembered discovering a shoe box full of quarters that my dad collected. I took a couple coins and purchased half a dozen of them. My mom totally freaked out after she found out what I did. She took the comics and hid them so my father wouldn't see them to keep me from getting in trouble with him.
The new school year started as summer rapidly ended. I now faced the task of making new friends in a different school all over again, only this time I no longer had the company of my family to get me through it. My first initial shock came when the bus arrived to pick me up. I stuck out like a sore thumb, being the only white kid on board. The bus driver was a sweet older woman, who occasionally barked at the unruly misfits. Many of these kids didn't want me sitting next to them, with good reasons to back them up. The riots remained a sore spot with most of them. I became the receiver to years of afflicted oppression and racism in a strange kind of role reversal. I took my place at the back of the bus without any harbored feelings or reservations since I honestly didn't know any different. It worked out well for me later, as the jocks normally chose to sit at the back of the bus. Before I knew it, I was their mascot. They looked out for me any given chance they could. When the bus finally dropped me off, the biggest school I'd ever seen stood before me. As I stood and stared in awe of its size, I soon realized that I was the only white kid in the whole school. This behemoth of a structure covered first grade all the way through twelfth. This posed no problem for me, since I accepted everyone for who they were, but how my presence appealed to them became a big question. My biggest adversaries were the girls. They came after me with a vengeance, never to attack me physically but to see how dirty they could get my clothes. Going through the lunch line proved to be an ordeal on a daily basis. It was nothing to have thirty to forty kids cut in front of me, unless the principal stood in line. So much for milk and graham crackers, it became a test of endurance that always followed with the daily ritual of having to run away from the girls so I could keep my clothes clean. One day, I returned home from school and anticipated answering my mom's daily inquiry of how my day went. When she finally asked, I answered without realizing my father was home and told her that I had a new girlfriend. The following week, my parents placed me in a different school.
