The Kid Turns 74
Tom Johnson was born at 5 AM, Friday, July 26, 1940,
at his grandmother’s home in Seymour, Texas, 74 years ago today. Darn, I feel
old. The above picture was taken in 1944 at age 4, 70 years ago. I was cute
then, and cute now at 74 (lol). I had medical problems when I was born, and the
doctor told my mother I would not live past the age of 20, yet I joined the
Army at age 18, and spent twenty years in the military, and I’m still around
today. I’m thankful for all my friends, all those that I have known, and those
no longer with us. It’s been a good life so far, and I hope I can be around for
a few more years yet. Below is one of my many memories as a child. I hope you
get a kick out of The Day I Fought Frankenstein.
The Kid Today
The Day I Fought – Frankenstein!
It’s odd how something
insignificant can force your mind to wander into the past on occasion.
Recently, while taking my wife to the hospital in Wichita Falls in preparation
for surgery, a loud voice drew my attention to a gentleman my age in a
wheelchair. He was instructing a person where to wheel him. The man’s voice,
and his features triggered something in my brain, and I was again on the San
Jacinto elementary school grounds.
Our memories of childhood
often reflect on some of the more frightening moments of our life. Though we
try to recall the good times, like our first date, first kiss, or even that
first bicycle or Red Rider BB Gun. At times other things are brought to mind
that may not be all that pleasant. My childhood was filled with many such
unpleasant memories.
I attended San Jacinto
elementary school in Wichita Falls between 1947 and 1953; sometime around 1951,
when I was about eleven, we had a boy in school that was much taller than the
rest of us. Being bigger, he tended to be a bully, and pushed the rest of us
around on the playground. So we knew to stay out of his way. This kid always
acted like he was the Frankenstein monster, walking stiff-legged, with his arms
outstretched as if to grab one of us. He took pleasure in seeing us scatter.
One day he even stuck something that looked like bolts on both sides of his
neck! He was his own Frankenstein monster.
I had a good friend I’d known
about four years, since we moved to Wichita Falls. He was a little bit fat, and
maybe somewhat awkward, but he was my buddy. It all started at recess one day,
when something happened – I don’t know what – but suddenly the kid we called
Frankenstein jumped on my pal and was hitting him. Sometimes I do things
without thinking. I jumped on the monster!
We had just started swinging
when the bell rang, calling an end to recess. We headed for the school
building. Frankenstein threatened, “I’ll see you after school!”
I said something like, “Good!”
Unfortunately, I had the rest
of the day to think about what this monster was going to do to me after school.
It wasn’t a good thought. He would look at me from across the classroom, and
snarl.
Time cannot be halted,
however, and eventually the bell ending the day finally sounded, and I knew it
was time for me to die. Frankenstein was going to kill me. But instead of
running home like a sane person, I stopped outside the door and waited for the
inevitable. Maybe I had a slim chance, I thought. My heavyset pal was
nowhere to be seen, he was smart and got away from school quickly. He wasn’t
about to wait around for the monster to tear me from limb to limb, and then
start on him!
Well, I waited, and I waited.
Just about all of the kids had left the building, and was headed home, only a
few stragglers remained. The longer I waited the braver I got. Frankenstein
is scared of me! I thought. Well, it was worth thinking anyway. Just as I was sure the last kid had left the
building, a boy came out who remembered about the fight.
“Hey, Frankenstein is waiting
for you on the north side of the building!” he yells. “I’ll go get him!”
The north side of the
building! Of course, the San Jacinto
school building was built in a square, with four sides, four exits! While I had
been waiting on the west side, the monster was waiting for me on the north side
of the building.
Thankfully, I didn’t have much
time to think about my predicament. In no time at all, Frankenstein came
running around the building anxious to dismember me. I don’t know who threw the
first punch, but we were quickly swinging meaningful headshots; we weren’t
skilled fighters, as you can imagine. But I was giving as good as I was
getting, and the monster was starting to cry. Maybe I was too. But we kept on
throwing those headshots with hard knuckles, and neither of us had gone down.
Suddenly, someone yelled, “The
principal is coming.” That ended the fight. Everyone scattered, included
Frankenstein. I raced for home also.
I don’t remember if I worried
about the monster that night, or not. But the next day school was normal.
Frankenstein didn’t approach me. In fact, he never bothered my buddy or me
again. Like all bullies, once someone stands up to them, they become less
aggressive. But it wasn’t bravery on my part believe me. I had merely acted
instinctively, without thinking. If I had had a second to stop and think, I
would never have jumped on the Frankenstein monster that day!
There is something of an
addendum to this story. In 5th Grade art class one day, our teacher
gave us an afternoon assignment. Each of us was to draw a self-portrait of what
we wanted to be as an adult. After we finished, she picked up the drawings and
glanced through them, and then selected mine and Frankenstein’s to hold up in
front of the class. I had drawn a sheriff with a badge on his chest, and
Frankenstein had drawn jail bars with him looking out. What she said kind of
chilled me. She said, “What you have seen in these drawing is what you will
become.”
I didn’t become a sheriff,
though I did become a cop for twenty years. I wonder if Frankenstein ended up
behind bars? I don’t remember his name, except for what we called him, nor did
I ever see him again after leaving San Jacinto school. There were other fights,
some even more violent than the day I fought Frankenstein, but few that I remember
as vividly.
Was the old man in the
wheelchair my Frankenstein monster? I don’t know. I would have felt foolish
going up and asking him. From the wheelchair, he posed no threat today, if he
was. I’m sure he would have had many fights over the years, so our little
encounter at age eleven would not have been something he was likely to recall.
I merely watched him a while and remembered other times in my childhood with
fonder memories.
