In 1973 I was 6 years old. My Father was 39. Picture a Sicilian from a rough neighborhood who boxed during his military service in the U.S. Army. My Dad was and still is the pillar of the family. Whenever I would ask my Mother what my Dad does in the house, she would always reply that he takes care of the big stuff. I still don't know what the "big stuff" is, or what it was back then. All I knew was that my Mother handled just about everything from a day to day perspective in our household. Anything that involved me and my two older sisters was my Mom's department.....PERIOD. Simply put, my Mother was the Law! My Dad was just the evil Deputy. He had power and could make my sisters cry just by looking at them, which I thoroughly enjoyed by the way..... but my Mother was the Law - The Captain - The Capo di tutti capi - in English - The Boss of all Bosses - At age 36, during the time of this story, she worked at a Motorola factory in the suburbs nearby where we lived just outside of Chicago. She drove a Volkswagen Beetle that I used to use as a playground slide when it was parked in the street. I was 6! Don't you judge me!
Preface - The following story is true. I can't make it up. Perhaps those that know me have heard this. Every once in awhile it's important to look at the roots of competition - In this case, from my very messed up childhood. If your child ever does this - Please make sure you do what my Mother advised in the end - The right thing.
True story - picture this;
Saturday afternoon - I'm flying a paper kite in a suburbian backyard that my Dad picked up for me on his way home from work the night before. Back then, if you filled up your gas tank at the Zephyr Gas Station they gave you a kite....cool right? This wasn't just any kite...yeah I know it's paper, but it was really good fucking paper. And guess what? This flying beauty had a winged red Zephyr on it! That's a flying horse. A flying fucking horse! Not a Unicorn - Unicorns are bullshit! (somehow part of Mobil back in the day- Same horse) You see, in Greek Mythology, Zephyr was the gentle wind of the west and the interceder between the World of the living and the Underworld. Zephyr was also the fresh wind who brought the spring rains that were so valuable for awakening nature. Still the case today right? So it makes fucking sense that a Gas Station would give you a kick ass paper kite for a fill-up.....you following? Afterall, it was Spring time and there's the March winds and April showers and all that happy horse shit.....hahahaha....See what I did there with the Zephyr horse and then I said horse shit? You better be laughing, if you're not then there's something wrong with you and you should get your oil checked....again with the service station reference....HA!
Back to the story-
Next door to my house lived another Italian family. They were animals by all accounts of what my parents said at the time. They never cut their grass and the kids were fucking filthy. They used to park their Buick on the front lawn, which always burned my Father's ass. Speaking of burning, one time one of the kids set one of their bedroom mattresses on fire - Fire trucks, cops, neighbors - Kid getting a public spanking in front of God and everyone....It was beautiful! Anyway, my Dad had plenty of stuff to say about the next door neighbors and none of it was good. He used to refer to them as "Calabrese" - a derogatory term that refers to the people of the southern most region of the Italian mainland. What's funny is that my Father's parents hailed from Palermo, Sicily, which in some circles aren't considered much better.....hell, in some circles the Sicilians are worse! So, we do what our parents do - and my sisters and I would refer to the neighbors as Calabrese whenever we were talking amongst ourselves.
Bobby -
So the Calabrese had a boy who was my age and his name was Bobby, probably still is....if he's alive...fuck, you never know?! I used to get one over on him regularly. He wasn't too bright, and because of the shit that my family used to say about his family, our neighbors, well let's just say that I felt comfortable fucking with little Bobby on a regular basis. One time after dinner I whispered in his ear "Bobby, say the worst word you know - as loud as you can".....I kinda' knew what was gonna happen here when he proceeded to scream "FUCK" at the top of his lungs.....sure enough, his Mother came out from nowhere and slapped the bitch-shit out of him on the spot! Ha! Victory!.....He deserved it as far as I was concerned. Anyone stupid enough to fuck up like that within ear shot of their parents.....he earned that ass kicking....dead to rights. That's not even the story.... Shit gets better.
More story-
REMEMBER -Saturday afternoon - I'm flying a paper kite that my Dad picked up for me on his way home from work the night before. Watch this!
So dumb shit Bobby asks me where I got the kite - My Pop got it for me at Zephyr Gas, I replied.
Bobby goes in the house and I hear his Dad start the Buick - remember they got there quick on account of they parked in the flower bed by the front door. 20 minutes later Mr. C has a full tank of gas and Bobby is flying a kite exactly like mine on the other side of the fence that separated our yards. I'm thinking ....FUCK! I don't like this one bit! I proceeded to land my kite, climb the fence, drop Bobby fuckstick on his ass, land his kite and stomp the living shit out of it. I then hopped back to my side of the fence and resumed doing what I originally set out to do....fly my kite. Lesson here? Don't get the same shit that I have and don't ask me if you can try my new shit - It's new and it's mine! Capisce?!
End of story-
So I'm feeling solid at this point. I just crushed the competition by taking down it's kite and the kite's owner. I'm wearing my dick around my neck at this point - KING JOHNNY! Unbeknown to me, The Law - a.k.a. my Mother, watched the whole deal unfold right before her eyes while looking out the back window at her happy son Johnny.....flying his kite. Yeah, I just 3rd person-ed that shit. Don't want to be reminded that it was me that this next shit happened to. She came outside, cigarette in hand, and commands me to reel in my Zephyr kite. She calls Bobby over and he's a ball of snot bubbles and uncontrollable crying.....the convulsive kind....Awe shit, I'm thinking. I don't want to have to look at this sorry ass - And why is my Mom standing here with the enemy? She's consoling him.... Ma! You're ruining this for me! That's what I'm thinking. Sure enough, to add insult to my perfect fucking day - She, my Mother, demands that I give Bobby MY KITE! Remember the snot bubble convulsive thing I described back there? I became that slimy mess and now Bobby became King for the day. That sonofabitch flew my kite.... MY KITE! Every day for two weeks after. Then one time the string broke - Kite went bye-bye......Best fucking day of my life.
Truth be told-
I miss my kite. I don't miss Bobby. I can still picture him with a Kool-Aid moustache, corn stuck to his face from dinner...that's what he gets for eating CORN!...sonofabitch.
Time to get back to work-
Hope you're all being smart on the CrossFit scene - More importantly the Nutrition scene.
W.O.W. - WOD Of The Week
I busted my own shit up on this past Saturday's Lone Wolf session with this one-
5 RFTx:
- Bodyweight Bench Press + 15lbs. x11
- Overhead Squat (135#) x11
- 400m Run
Get after it!
Stay strong!
Be Present!
Peace - Johnny
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