Now and Then The Bronx

It's hard to be faced with challenging my morals, ethics, and values, simply by showing up for work.

Isn't showing up a part of the battle?

Is showing up any part of the battle?

And what's with the battling? I'm a lover and a pacifist, not a fighter.

Although I did learn this past week that my great-grandfather died while being dragged by police horses through the streets of Romania.

So running a 5K, in the Bronx, in the middle of the pouring rain, doesn't seem as difficult.

Although, I accidentally completed only half of that 5K. We were supposed to do two loops. And before I knew it, I crossed the timing mat at the Finish Line, instead of staying to the left of it.

I still think about this a lot.

And to this very day, my behavior still bugs me.

My 10th grade biology class went on a field trip to the Bronx Zoo. And the 30 miles were going to require that two parents ride along. I went home and asked my mom. She was excited. Evelyn loved and missed the Bronx. And here we were, about to take a tour of her old neighborhood, courtesy of her school taxes.

Our teacher read us the riot act on how we were to behave on the on the trip. Highlighted by:

• don't pick up anything, or take anything home
• no climbing into pens or cages
• what to bring for lunch, so we don't throw up on the bus
• no smoking anywhere, neither on the bus nor off, we are representing Plainedge wherever we went.

And here I thought we were going to visit the animals. But I get it, because I've seen bunches of suburban kids in the City. In fact, I used to be one of them. I also didn't think any of this applied to me, especially because I didn't want to handle buffalo poo, curl up next to a lion, or vomit. Plus, I didn't smoke. I simply wanted to observe animals in their unnatural Bronx habitats.

When we arrived to the Zoo, a bunch of us got off the bus and headed straight for the restroom. And it was in there that my mom, along with the mother of the most popular girl in school, lit up cigarettes.

I walked out, and didn't see my mother until it was time to leave.

I can't explain why I reacted that way. But I had a hard time expressing myself at 16.

I wasn't a sucker for school rules either.

In high school I was just me, not assigned to any click or social circle. I had my friends, and I kept them close to me. Being "cool" was never an aspiration of mine. I traveled a bit as a teenager, so I made most of my friends elsewhere.

But on that day in 1984, at the Bronx Zoo, I just can't explain it. Why did I blow off my own mother on a class trip? I spent the day with my English as a Second Language (ESL) friends, all five of them, and their teacher. It was lovely to learn the names and habitats of the animals in different tongues.

Before returning home, the entire class sat down to lunch. I shared a table with my ESL friends, their teacher...and my mom. I recall it being weird when we caught up. I knew I had done something terrible, but she didn't bring it up. My mom told the multi-lingual teacher about how she grew up very close to where we were, and that her parents owned a nearby candy store. Her parents were immigrants, and her Polish mother spoke five languages.

The lively conversation continued on the bus, as my friends urged my mother to share stories about me as a child. They were hysterical.

One of my ESL friends, who was born in Romania, went on to become valedictorian. And her favorite story, which my mom told on that bus ride, was the one in which I excitedly called my parents down to the basement. I couldn't have been more than five, maybe six. Very proudly I told them "look, look at what I did." My parents were horrified to see two toothpicks sticking out of an electrical socket.

Here was evidence that I should have been valedictorian.