Bevie's A Goodie Two-Shoes

No. Not really. In fact, the only one of my siblings who got slapped more than me was my sister, Judayl.

Lynahr never got slapped. Not that Lynahr didn't behave poorly at times. It's just that Lynahr crumbled at the mere suggestion she would be punished. She had her fingernails shortened more than once. Lynahr was a scratcher.

But the things I got slapped for were never serious. They kind of fell into one of two categories: It was an accident (children were slapped for accidents back then - I was anyway); I forgot.

Accidents happen, and there is no way to truly prevent them forever. (That's why they call them accidents.) In our house, if you turned around and knocked something over, better hope it didn't break. Even if it didn't you might get slapped. Just because. Spill something. Break something. Whatever. Don't let Mother find out about it.

The "forget" ones were more a result of poor discipline, I admit. I would be next door playing. The rule in our house was, "be home before dark". Well, like most kids, I would push that envelope as close to the end as I could. Then I would head for home. But once it starts to get dark it seems to happen quickly. Not only that, but it's scary after dark. I have no idea how many times I stood next to the barn which contained the neighbor's cabinet shop, looking at the dark path which followed the space between the cabinet shop barn and the pile of wood which had once been a horse barn. (Mickey and the neighbor boy took it apart. Just left the wood in large piles to rot.) That was a scary path at night. The grass was waist high. The Old House was a scary place to be in the day time. I would gather my courage and run, as fast as I could to clear the path. Then I would try and sneak into the house. Every so often I would make it. I would hear Mother downstairs ranting about how I was going to get it when I got home. Then Helvie would run downstairs and tell Mother I was upstairs. I would be free, but Mother would find someone else to vent her now active anger upon. Generally, I got slapped.

So how did I become known as Goodie Two-Shoes? Basically, it was because I am a coward. Always have been. Always will be, I expect. Not proud of it. At the same time, I'm not so afraid as I used to be. There was a time I wouldn't admit I was afraid. Now I have no problem with it.

You see, if the other kids in the neighborhood got caught doing something, they were told not to do it again. They would, and then they were told not to do it again. This was a wonderful cycle they went through. Do something wrong. Be told not to do it again. Then do it again and repeat the cycle. Who could complain about that?

That wasn't my cycle. If I did something wrong and got caught, I got slapped. The worse the offense, the worse the slapping. I didn't need to deal with that, so I avoided certain places and certain people and certain activities. The immediate result? I usually played alone.

There was a secondary result to this as well. I suppose it was inevitable. All of the kids in the neighborhood were constantly trying to get me to go along with them to wherever. Not because they liked me. Most of them didn't. Not even because they wanted to get me into trouble. Most of them didn't care about that one way or another. No. The reason my presence at these events was so coveted was because, if Bevie was going to be someplace, then the parents assumed it had to be all right.

I remember the Oaktree kids coming to me and asking me to lie and say I was going to be at some campfire thing. I wasn't going to be because of the rough crowd who were. They pressured and pressured the entire way while they walked me to their front door. Their mother was sitting on the steps. When we arrived the kids asked their mother if they could go to the campfire. Bobby looked each of her kids in the eyes and then turned to me. "Are you going?" All of her kids looked at me with high expectations. "No. I'm not." Bobby smiled and said no. Her kids gave me looks of death.

You see, I don't lie. Not on purpose. Not if I can help it. However, I can recall more than one time when I have avoided the truth out of fear. Scare me enough and I'll lie. But you have to be careful about that. I'm afraid of a lot of things. So if I'm more afraid of lying than the consequences of the truth, I won't lie. It gets complicated. In any case, I try not to lie. The problem is, sometimes what I believe to be true turns out to be wrong. That's a different kind of lie, but I don't like speaking those either.

I don't know what the big deal was with Bobby's kids, though. Two of them went anyway. Got hammered on beer and came home sick. No slaps. I suppose it was the younger ones, who actually listened to their mother and stayed home who were most upset.

It was annoying to be known as the gauge by which parents decided their children's fates. But they knew I couldn't bring myself to tell them a bald face lie. You see, most of the neighborhood kids did lie. Often. Usually for no reason at all, from my perspective. The result of this was that there wasn't an adult within three miles who believed a word they said. Even when they told the truth. Usually, when they were telling the truth (rare and momentous occassions), they would try to get me involved so I could confirm their word. We actually had parents call our house in order for me to be cross-examined. Got more than one kid out of trouble that way.

There were many places I wanted to go. But didn't. There were many things I wanted to do. But didn't. But my reason for avoiding these places and things was not because of any innate "goodness". My word, no!

No. I was simply a coward. Others saw me as "good". I knew better. So did Mother.

NOTE: Being a coward helped me avoid drugs, alcohol, and tobacco. So it wasn't a total loss, I guess. I recently got a feedback from Helvie on a good number of these neighborhood kids. Helvie hung out with them then, and after. Most ran into alcohol and drug-related problems. I guess that's the price of being brave. Don't know. Never been brave.