Hail, To Your Almost Impenetrable Chasm Of Pecking Order. Poem by Buddy Bee Anthony

Hail, To Your Almost Impenetrable Chasm Of Pecking Order.

You are an M.D.
an enthusiast about
preserving for posterity
the slide rule.
You were always great at systems.
You could see I was challenged in that regard.
It was not even conceivable that I would be in that arena as
a doctor or even a lowly dentist.
I certainly wasn't going for the rare air of brain surgery like you were. One in half a million med school students go on to become brain surgeons..You got very close to the brain. Ear, Nose And Throat. It's closely connected to the brain.
I'm a little surprised you didn't get to cut all the way into the brain stem, cerebellum
and cerebrum
Did you have a little ripple of trouble, controversy.
Maybe a bump in the medical school road. A moment of doubt?
I know it was aiming high to become a brain surgeon.
And, even I don't know much about medicine and healing...
I will give you full credit on knowing from the age of 11
when I first really met you. the day I punched you in the stomach. When you were laughing at me, like I was some lower form of life. Clearly not the organized mind you were, or a systems kid. Dr. Spock examining a tribble. I wanted to play baseball, pitch in the majors. I rode my bicycle
and went to little league baseball practice.
I aspired to be a kid. Being a professional grown up could wait..
But. maybe not knowing what I wanted to be or be doing when I grew up back then was a curse or a perhaps it was a blessing. My youthful indecision certainly was hilarious to someone like you who from just out of diapers, was destined for greatness.
You laughed looking right at me, you laughed with abandon like a hyena, a jackel, a donkey, long and hard I looked around and didn't see anything funny to my left, my right or behind me, so I attacked., I was having a lot of grief piled on me at home from my arrogant, narcissistic father, who was frustrated coming home from working his repetetive job. He was jet quick with the put down molasses slow with the praise.
My anger was a sour pulp of pressure built up in my throat and stomach and was released when I hit you in your solar plexus as hard as an 11 year old could. And, I saw your face turn various shades of orange, red, and grey.. As your mouth opened up in a scream that never broke the surface
since all the air was sucked out of your lungs.
And, my future surgeon, system mastering, friend with all your scholarly, lines and angles, parabola rhombus and co-sine weapons, deep intellectual developed, highly evolved family with deep pocketsm, assured gifted young progeny like you would go places and since your heart was set on becoming a doctor, it would surely come to pass. written into the book of life.
I was unfinished, with questionable manners wearing clothes that didn't quite match my disorganized mind. I was on the menu to be picked on. A sideshow to be ridculed. reduced to the rubble of a sterile and ill equipped, public education system. You got married to someone in the neighborhood that lived across the street from me. She was a odd, She didn't speak to anyone, She was transported from car to garage, to house. A lady in waiting for a rich man of indeterminant age, to provide for her. I think to make her look more exciting, more desireable, to you, her arranged suitor, her soon to be doctor husband she said I had made a serious and dangerous pass at her. This fable could only increase her value to you, as a sexual partner.
I just thought she was a hermit and out of place in some way. In the wrong century perhaps.. and in my eight hours or ten hours a day of just being a kid, I thought her social estrangement was just that, strange. To be bid over as sexual Property, A Jewess in waiting, up in her castle. Hey, but, who listens to me....., I don't know the nuances nor the status of your marriage of over 40 years. But I trust you still have great amenities with a pool table, maybe a garden, a scenic veranda. Picture windows for her guilded cage. I am guessing no slot machine in the basement. Where your trustee parents began seeing much more of me as you started inviting me over to hang out with you more often, was it because you didn't want to get punched like that again? . I was a hot headed kid. Sometimes impulsive. I didn't consider myself, , disadvantaged for boiling water to make Kraft Mac And Cheese, or eating cold, spaghetti out of a can, A gallon of chocolate milk a day, health food. I didn't know the damage of half a bag of double stuffed Cookies. I'd just hop on my bicycle and go to the gym get to burn off any excess, .. albeit empty calories, I had some real food along the way. Even though. Our household had no dietician on staff, or food coaches on line. Didn't read many books on nutrition except health class pamphets. I didn't attend any body sculpting, meditation or yoga seminars, nor did I leaf through any manuals on optimal child health and development. The foods we ate were supposed to feed our bodies and our brain. I might have not been able to think quite so clearly because of my high sugar, cholesterol, salt and milk fat rich diet. Who can say? I did know math, symbols, languages, the system was beyond my comprehension., Until you, my brilliant, high quality, well fed, clear minded new friend, , agreed to tutor me to illuminate the secrets to uncover and master the inner mechanisms, of the voodoo arts and the physical sciences. Over half a century later, I feel conflicted about hitting you in the stomach because, It was a cruel thing to do for someone who's minds eye viewed me as ill equipped. You had what I didn't have at age 11. You in your brick house, with greater more substantial, support, solidly academic sisters and brothers. You had every right to blow down my straw house with your scornful laughter. Many people derive joy from the suffering and from what others lack. People laugh at fat people, at gimps, bums, and amputees. They make sport of people with 60 I'Q's. Those who clueless or don't even think about or care about their destiny at age 11.l without planning for a professional adult life. Few designs on what type of captain of industry they're going to become when they get older. Their are mega billionaires who scoff at and even laugh at poorer billionaires and millionaires who are laughing at the folks making 200,000 dollars a year, who then look down their noses at those unfortunates making 75,000 a year. So, I understand the need to place yourself above and have possession of the bigger chuckle. But, I am also not forgiving because I am my own invention. I have created my own personal niche having grown into my finished self. I have arrived right where I am supposed to be today. I am ok with my coordinates.
I don't apologize for not knowing, what I was going to become as a child. I saved face, taking care of myself by drawing my line in the sand and smacking you. That isn't acceptable to make sport of me. So, in my fight for childhood equity, I was able to peer inside your charmed life and get from you the tutoring I needed to attend a good college.
But, ever since high school, like a bad smell the proximity factor hovers in the air. We live thousands of miles away
I contacted you on line and got no response Even when I confirmed with your older brother. You don't want my friendship. pity, because I am far less needy now. Maybe I could even tutor you on a few important life lessons you may have overlooked. I hurt you once. For hurting me.. I regret laying my hands on you.. I had major stress and anger stemming from my private life. I knew we weren't an A list family. With our explosive, and festering feuds, jealousies and family secrets in my household, still clueless to this day why these secrets were so important to continue holding onto.. What hurts me is we had only a split second to resolve our issues. I couldn't stop the class and ask you why are you laughing at me. Or what are you laughing at,
When I would come over, your older brother would call me a hat. Was that slang for thug, meathead, jockstrap, airhead? Was It slang for appeasement, the main reason you hung out with me, in school, because you were afraid of me punching you again?
I don't know because, years later you're a doctor and you don't take my house calls.
which by default gives me a real good clue.

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