tales of youth

I'm finally away from the office for Christmas.  It wasn't a busy day, and it seemed endless.  I found myself remembering stories of Christmas past this morning.  One is amusing now, but was rather traumatic at the time.

 

When I was twelve or thirteen, I found myself in the basement of my aunt and uncle's house in Littlefield, Tx.  My two cousins and I decided that since temperatures outside required indoor activities, the secluded basement was a perfect substitute for a football field.  Donning helmets, pads, and jerseys we began our game.  Low ceilings and the twenty feet wall to wall prevented most passing options, so we went to work perfecting tackling.  Rarely did I tackle; most time was spent with the two of them tackling me.  They were determined that eventually they could bring me down.  Once in a while, they were successful.  About fifteen minutes into this scenario, tragedy struck.  I faced the two of them and braced myself for their worst.  They tossed me the ball and quickly closed the distance.  One of them finally remembered some training and lowered his shoulders, bringing his head in line with my chin.  The helmet I wore snapped back and exposed my two front teeth to the glancing blow of his helmet.  Except it didn't glance; it was a solid hit.  In an instant, I knew something had gone wrong.  I could feel shrapnel on my tongue and my face hurt.  My tongue darted to and fro over the jagged edges of my altered toothline, disbelieving its perception of reality.  At first, I tried to play down the moment, but that didn't last because I started to cry.  Tearfully, I repeated to my cousins what I had learned in school about how tooth enamel was a harder substance than bone.

 

This is also the source of my first conspiratorial lie.  My cousins and I were no strangers to trouble; they had theirs and I had mine.  By experience, we knew that there would be consequences for this situation.  We devised an alternate version of events.  Instead of tackling one another in full football gear (less mouth guards), I had been walking down the stairs to join them in another game.  It was during this descent that I tripped on something and tumbled, my fall broken by contact of my face to the handrail.  This is the version we first tested on my aunt.  It passed and it was also shared with my parents.  Only much, much later did I discover how deftly manipulated I had been.  How much trouble would I have been in?  I had only held the ball, and I was the one with broken teeth.  My cousins, however, were significantly more culpable.  So, not only did they escape punishment, but the incident report to family served to emphasize my clumsiness.

 

I spent the first weeks of that January at dental appointments, which repaired my smile.  I didn't even have to wait until the next Christmas to get my two front teeth.