Childhood Stories: Chad

In my last Childhood Stories post, I wrote of Rachel, a kindred spirit who my mom babysat during my early childhood.  If you have not yet read that post, you can find it here:  Childhood Stories: Rachel

Now, on with the post.

As I mentioned in my last post, one of the ways that my mother earned extra income for years was by watching other people's children during work days.  By the time I came around, my mother's childcare activities were beginning to wind down but there are two children I can remember my mother watching during my childhood.  One was, of course, the aforementioned Rachel whom I have vivid and fond memories of.  The other is Chad who occupies the opposite place in my memory.

If I clear my mind, relax and then bring Chad to mind, an image of a little boy with light brown hair, tiny bottom teeth and a mischievous smile flashes into my mind's eye.  But as quickly as it appears, it is gone.

As much as Rachel and I hit it off, Chad and I did not.  It's not like we hated each other.  But at best, we were indifferent to one another and at worst, there existed for him a competitive machismo.  Looking back, I think this may have been the first inkling I had, though I was only 4 years old at the time, that I relate much more to females than I do to males.  (But that's a topic for a future post).

There is only one specific memory I have of Chad, a memory that I am reminded of on a somewhat regular basis.

One day Chad and I were both playing with hot wheels cars and race tracks.  Although we were playing with the same toys, we were on opposite sides of our living room playing separately.  Of all the hot wheels cars in our home at the time, there was a favorite among us all:  A hot wheels version of the The Munsters' Koach.

The Munster Koach

If you are unfamiliar with The Munster's, it was an odd little sitcom that ran for only 3 seasons (from 1964-1966) but has lived on in television syndication ever since.  I'm not sure why we were all so enchanted with this car, other than our love for the show and the fact that this was car was such a far cry from most of the other hot wheels available at the time.

I don't remember the circumstances that led to Chad's actions that day but my feeling is that he was irritated with me for some reason, possibly because it had been determined by an adult presence that it was my turn to play with the Munsters' Koach.  Whatever the reason, Chad impulsively and recklessly threw the Koach at me and it hit me in the head.  Almost any other car would most likely have left me with only a nasty goose egg.  However, The Munster Koach, as can be seen in the photo above, has a number of sharp, pointy edges and Chad hurled it with such velocity that it instantly created a deep gash in my forehead.  The next memory I have is of being at the emergency room and getting stitches.  I don't remember any pain while getting the stitches but I am sure that was because I was given local anesthetic even though I don't remember them giving me one.  What I do remember is several weeks later when I had the stitches removed.    The doctor told me I wouldn't feel much but it hurt terribly.  I can only surmise that when I was stitched up that day, a nerve was hit because I still feel the pain sometimes even to this day.  If I touch the particular spot where the stitches were, I feel a weird, unsettling, sharp pain and sometimes I even feel a dull odd pain when the spot is not being touched.

That's really all I remember about Chad.  I don't think my mother watched him for along.  Maybe a year.  Maybe a bit longer or shorter.  All I know is that I have no other memories of him.

Because of my lasting wound (I don't know what else to call it), Chad and that little Munster Koach do still enter my mind and I find it odd.  From the throwing of the car and the gashing of the forehead to the trip to the emergency room was probably no more than 15 minutes of the  22.6 million minutes that have transpired since.  That's roughly 0.00007% of my life and yet, I still remember that car and I remember the smirk on Chad's face after he threw it.

But it doesn't stop with the memory.  Every time that spot on my forehead aches, it's a reminder that our brief and seemingly minor interactions with others can sometime impact a person for the rest of their lives.  So, I have a level of thankfulness for this lasting wound (as I am thankful for other wounds I have) because it makes me reflect a bit more when interacting with others.  So, I guess this is the story of how a boy I barely knew and did not connect with, intentionally gave me a wound whilte unintentionally giving me a gift that has impacted me for the better.

Life is truly odd and ironic.