In 1958 I was ten years old in the forth grade. Life was good , we lived in the town of South Grove. and it was the start of spring, the snow was leaving, the days were getting longer and us kids were having a wonderfull time. we were finding ponds full of frogs and pollywog's. That was our thing in the spring of 1958.
That's also when we got a new kid in school. He seemed OK. I can't remember for sure what His real name was, I think maybe Steve. Anyway, He was a little small for his age and he missed school alot because he was sickly. But when He was there we all played together. Even being small he could play all the games we played. Tag, dodgeball, marbles, and generally running around and being ten.
The reason we called him Stick Head was the fact that he didn't have any hair. Non at all. But for some reason we couldn't understand when he came to school, or was in class His mother made Him wear a wig. It was a bad wig but he had to wear it. When we went to His house to get him to come out to play. His mother would make us wait on the porch. And She would take Him into the bedroom and stick his wig on his head. He had some kind of glue stuff He used to stick it on with.
When we ran through the woods He would take it off so he wouldn't wreck it Then before We went home, We had to help Him stick it back on.
My most memorable day I had with Stick Head would have been forgetable with anybody else.
We were playing in the school yard, just boy stuff. But our teacher Mr. Left who was overly protective of him seen me push Him pretty hard from behind. Old Stick Head went flying flat on his face.
Mr. Lefts solutions to boys fighting in the school yard was only one thing. He would take the guilty party's down in the basement of the school. Put us in over size boxing gloves and let us fight. He would be the ref and stand close to the side of us so He could stick out his hand to block any blows that looked like they might be to hard. He though it was punishment. We boys more or less had fun with in. Each combatant got in a couple of blows. Then the fight would end in a draw. Every one was happy.
But this time Mr. Left wouldn't let me get in any blows, And Stick Head got in quite a few. Then again out of character Mr. Left told me, He better not ever catch me playing ruff with Steve (or what ever His name was) again.
We all thought that was weird. But like everything else the teacher told us we forgot it, and went back to being ten.
Well it wasn't long after that we saw Stick Head in the back of His family car leaving town. They had to move. I never seen or heard of Him again.
Fifty years ago is alot of time. If I knew then what I know now. I wouldn't have played ruff with Stick Head or pushed Him from behind.
I'm glad I didn't know then what I know now. Stick Head would have missed out on a little bit of childhood. And so would have I.