Vacuosity

Sticky money

I bought something yesterday that I've wanted for years, but never had a place for. Now, a large, mostly empty basement is more than enough space for a 60 lb. heavy bag. It's great. I can wail away on it all I want, punching and kicking to my heart's content. My knuckles are bruised and swollen and my back is sore, but Jordan, who watched me beat on it, says that I must be the best kickboxer ever. Having your son think you are a hero is worth a few aches.



When I was about twelve, and my mother, my sister and I had just moved out on our own. We didn't have much money. My mother, just re-entering the work force, earned a ridiculous 18 K or something like that. It wasn't much to house and feed two kids.

My mother tried her best to still give us treats when she could. That summer we still allowed ourselves the luxury of going the the C.N.E. I don't rememer whether we went on rides or not, but it wasn't important; the point was that we were there, and the atmoshpere was what mattered.

We had played a couple games in the midway; very few since they burned money so easily. My favourite game had always been the basket toss. I could often win and this one was cheap, only 25 cents per ball. I had played and won a small, stuffed heart and so had my mother. My sister, Elizabeth, had played but hadn't won.

We had gone off to do other things and eventually spent whatever money we had. It was near time to go and we thought we'd let Liz have one more shot at her little, red heart with Mom's last quarter. She didn't make it. Mom had nothing left but a single dime in her wallet.

We all went to the washroom before getting on the streetcar home and while I was in there I saw that someone had thrown some change into the urinal I was using. The person before me hadn't flushed and there was a sick-coloured orange foam in the bottom but there they were: one dime and one nickel.

I hated doing it, but I grabbed them and washed them really well. Right then it was important to me that Liz have her heart too; it was only fair and I think maybe it represented a balance and unity that we needed just then. Those hearts meant that we were still a family, still loving, despite the upheaval of my parents' separation.

I asked my mother for her last dime, telling her that I had found some money in the washroom. I had one ball, one shot to win it for her. I held that softball for I don't know how long, concentrating, knowing I had to get it just right. Finally, I tossed it and it stayed in. I had won her heart for her.

I never told them what I had to do to get that money. A little while later, when a family friend was moving away, Elizabeth gave that stuffed heart to her. It annoyed me that she didn't understand its significance. When I was older, I realized that she had only wanted to make some gesture in whatever way she could and that the heart had taken on a new significance.

Somewhere out there is an ass who thought it would be funny to make someone reach into his piss for a bit of change. I'm still thankful for that.

posted by David @ 10:29 p.m.