Guilty cruelty

I was very shy as a child. I would easily turn red from embarrassment when I had to speak in front of people I did not know. I also spoke softly. Being shy meant I also was a follower. Before we reached our teenage years, my brothers and I used to hang out a lot with each other; especially when we lived on Wellington Avenue in Elk Grove Village.

We had a core group of kids we hung around with: Darrell, Ira, Dave Barrow, me...I'm trying to remember the other kids' names, but I am only coming up with their first names. I think there was a guy named Chris and his brother, Mitchell, maybe. There must have been others too, because I remember there being a whole group of us.

Back then, we always played outside. Whenever we could, we'd meet at the green box, and then just come up with things to do. We did simple things like play at the park, play baseball, ride our bikes or skateboards, hang out talking. We also made up our own games like variations of tag and hide-and-go-seek. The worst made up game was dirtball, which I've written about previously (http://ayeartill40.blogspot.com/2009/03/dirtball.html).

Children will be children, and boys will be boys, so we also did mean things too. We once "made" the little brother of one of the kids who was not a regular, eat his own poop. I don't remember all of the details, and it certainly wasn't my idea (I was shy and a follower, don't forget), and I'm almost positive it wasn't either of my brothers idea either. I remember the boy pooped his pants and announced it to the group. His older brother was more embarrassed than concerned for his younger sibling. As I think about it a little more, it may have even been the older brother who came up with the idea of making the boy eat his poop. At least, that's how I am now remembering the incident.

Once we knew about it, everyone started to tease the boy. We laughed and pointed at him, we made farting noises, we grunted and groaned. He ran into the cornfield to shield his shame. We all ran after him, and circled him. As we stood in the cornfield, surrounding our victim, he began to cry. His brother, as I've concluded I remember, made him take his pants down. You could immediately see the brown stains on his white underwear. As the boy squirmed, you could also see the logs ease their way out of his leg holes and onto the ground beneath him. There were two or three of them. He was told to pick one up, which he did, and he was instructed to take a bite, which he did with surprising willingness. Maybe he wanted to just get everything over with. Maybe he had gone through this ritual before. Maybe he was just too scared to disobey.

Whatever the reason, I still feel pretty guilty about that day. Even though I didn't make any of the demands, or force the boy to take any of that punishment, I was there, which makes me a guilty party. I'm not sure if I was strong enough to stop anything from happening.

Children can be cruel to each other. Adults, however, carry the guilt.