I'll Show You Mine...

Mrs. Mattonen was the meanest kindergarten teacher at Hunter Elementary School. She had a short, brown lesbian haircut and a fondness for polyester pantsuits with turtle necks. On special days she would wear dark lipstick, white, pearly eye shadow and too much rouge. Even as a five year old and the youngest person in my class, I understood that the makeup and her smile were mostly a phony, thinly-veiled disguise for the rage underneath. She bore a striking resemblance to Richard Dawson, the original host of 'Family Feud,' but dressed as a woman.

Talking and all other forms of fun were strictly verboten in Mrs. Mattonen's class. It was not uncommon for her to lose her temper and shriek, "SHUUUTUP!"  as her face flushed with blood. When she was particularly angry at a talkative student, she would pull out a roll of masking tape, slap a sticky strip on the helpless victim's mouth and rip it off quickly for maximum sting. After the humiliation the shamed child would sit red-mouthed, tears welling in their eyes. I think I only got the masking tape wrath attack once. 

The bright side of life at Hunter Elementary School came after the final bell. Each day I met my kindergarten girlfriend, Meredith Duncan, and we made the long walk home down Cherry Wood Lane together, hand in hand. Merideth, the aggressor in our relationship, didn’t think there was any reason to break contact. In order to maintain my manly dignity I managed to negotiate two; the first, heat, and the second, passers-by. I simply had to wipe my sweaty palms on my Rough Riders once in a while. And whenever someone else walked by I felt too embarrassed to be seen holding hands, ironically self-conscious of being “too cute.” After any observer had passed, Merideth and I would reattach until the next passerby. We would part ways at our homes, just across the street from each other.

Meredith and I played all sorts of games. I had a particular interest in acting out scenarios where I could die and she would have to weep over my limp body. I would contort my little form in the strangest, deadest shape possible and peek my eyes open to enjoy her grief. I also liked playing house, but only if Meredith promised to show me her privates. It was easy enough; all I had to do was flash my little wiener once or twice and give her a bit of a guilt trip. I remember being caught in the act, under the covers, in Meredith's room by her mother. She was none too pleased even when we tried explaining that we were playing house. I zipped up, crawled out of bed, and left Merideth--naked from the waist down--to deal with her mother.

I became particularly adept at getting other neighborhood girls to show me their “jennies” as well. Sometimes it was under the guise of playing house, but more often than not it was simple persuasion and a little dirty talk. Carine Cartwright pulled down her flowery shorts in her basement. Leanne Allred lifted her Strawberry Shortcake dress for me in her backyard. Carrie Allred, her cousin, dropped her baggy panties after a particularly heated conversation under the deck. Once I even got a two-fer on the playground with the very blonde and giggly Napier twins. However, despite several attempts playing doctor, my best friend Sean Letham wouldn’t drop trou. Neither would his step-brother Tommy. Being the neighborhood lothario had its limits.

Everything looks smaller when I revisit the street where I grew up. Houses are renovated and repainted. Most the families I knew are gone. The midget pine tree in our front yard is now taller than the house. Cherry Wood Lane and the sweet innocence of my youth is a distant memory, but some things, I know, will stay with me forever.


-The Flying Dutchman-