Far removed from the alleged violence plaguing the streets of Los Angeles I started school at Robert Fulton Junior High. Robert Fulton was a white guy that is often credited with developing the first steam-powered ship. He was wildly successful until it was found that states could not regulate interstate commerce. He went bankrupt and then died. In his time on the planet, I don't believe he ever came to know California and the future site of the school that was named in his honor.
I arrived to that school at the start of my ninth year of education and my fourteenth year of life. I was chubby, white kid that dressed in a blue blazer, white oxford, and khaki pants. I was out of place.
At the start of the school year I lived in a small apartment with my father and step-mother. Nightly, I would fashion a bed out of the blue and white stripped sofa cushion, returning them to the rightful place in the morning. I walked to and from the school through the small, quiet neighborhood. For the most part, my days were uneventful and generally the classes were a wash. My memories of Jr. High could be condensed to a few friends, two girls, and a few select days that I ditched school.
During my year at the school I had two encounters, confrontations that could have lead to violence - two moments that I have parleyed into the grand stories of overcoming violence and adversity.
1: While walking home I was confronted by a group of gentleman in the parking lot of a church. While our paths crossed one of the members of this group claimed he and his friends were from a certain location. Then he asked me where I was from. Not entirely aware of his intentions or the ramifications of the situation I responded: I lived just down the street in an apartment. Perplexed, he asked again - this time with a stronger emphasis on the 'from.' I responded again, this time with a more detailed answer that included the street name and the name of the apartment building. The group was confounded by my response and continued to their previous destination.
2: After moving to a much larger apartment I came into the ownership of a bike. The cheap Toys r' us bike tires constantly had me replacing inner-tubes and filling those tubes with air. One afternoon I had found myself replenishing the air my tires sorely lacked at a gas station not far from my home. When I had finished, I wheeled the bike around and found that an older kid stood between me and the sidewalk. We stood there looking for each other. He eventually spoke. He told me he was going to take my bike. I thought about it and told him that I could not give him my bike. We stared at each other again. After another short span of time he told me again that he was going to take my bike. I did not answer him this time. I stood and stared. We went silent for a few minutes. Finally he asked where I went to school. I told him Robert Fulton Jr. High. He asked if I knew his brother. I told him that I was regrettable that I had not the fortune to meet his siblings. He said goodbye and walked off.
Some violence, some adversity, Huh?