"The Equity of Friendship: Overdrawn" Submission #34

What I am about to write about, starting with this and the next several blog submissions, is a narrative of events which ultimately led me… drove me… to the most transformative decisions and moves of my entire life. I am going to attempt to portray my life during a miserable two year period. My chronology might be a bit off on some of the events but I’m confident that the details are highly accurate as they are burned deeply into the most inner recesses of my mind and spirit.

I attended Madrid High School (Iowa) my freshman and sophomore years and they were arguably the worse two years of my life. I lived in a constant state of anxiety, depression, questioning, fear and self-loathing.

I had no idea who I was or what I wanted to become. I had no role models to emulate. I had no adult to counsel me. I had no discernible path to follow.

I viewed God as a lucky rabbit’s foot who existed for the sole purpose of bailing me out of jams and the fact that I seemed to perpetually be in hot water, rendered His existence in serious doubt.

I have chronicled in detail the instability and total dysfunction of my home life… a mismatched blended family, checked-out alcoholic parents and the constant threat of verbal and physical warfare.

So there’s that…

But what drove that undesirable, miserable lifestyle even further into the bowels of a living hell was a distinctive downward turn in my social life. My friends… or, in most cases… my former friends.

Life is tough enough to navigate through the ups and downs of puberty and the transition that is supposed to lead to adulthood. For me… the discomfort and awkwardness of those years were greatly compounded by my personal circumstances.

Let me hasten to say that I do not consider myself a total victim in all of this. I mean… obviously, there wasn’t a lot I could do to remedy the trials and tribulations inside my home, but when it came to the downward spiral of my life outside the home… I must own some culpability.

The decisions to involve myself with a variety of rebellious acts, behavioral mischief, a lack of effort and engagement at school, drugs and alcohol were mine. Nobody forced me. Nobody pressured me. I, and I alone, am responsible for those decisions and the subsequent fallout.

Actions and attitude… that’s on me.

Then there were the friends…

At best… I was abandoned by many “friends” and at worst... I actually became the “sworn enemy” to

some. Kids can be cruel… and sometimes, we bring a little bit of the cruelty upon ourselves. I brought a lot of this on myself… I think. I mean… how else could it have happened?

One night, I was at a basketball game at the high school. There was a group of us sitting in the stands, top row… with our backs against the brick wall. Rod Isolini, me, Don Friedmeyer and Sparky (Mark Gibbons.) Sitting in that order.

We were always cutting up in some fashion. That night was no different. I don’t remember what was said exactly… but Donny cut Iso down with a verbal jab of some sort. It was clever and cutting. I was sitting between them… and I began to chuckle at the quip. Suddenly, Iso put the butt of his hand against my forehead and slammed my head against the brick wall.

He was ticked and in my mind, he was displaying his wrath against the wrong guy… Donny is the guy that cut him down… I just laughed.

I couldn’t figure it out… until years later. The truth of what was happening during those years was a revelation to me and at least gave me a viable working theory into the complexities of teen relationship dynamics.

Relationships are built and maintained with an emotional currency that is difficult to explain. And the more equity that is gained in a friendship, the more withdrawals we are allowed, while maintaining the strong bond of friendship.

In other words, when we screw up with a close friend… we lie to them or we gossip about them… when we somehow disappoint them… maybe laugh at them… we, in essence, make a withdrawal against our friendship. But because we have years of relationship equity built up, it doesn’t destroy the friendship. It just temporarily weakens it.

But when you continue to make withdrawals… and you have ceased to make deposits… you eventually become overdrawn and the fundamentals of the relationship become compromised… usually for good.

That’s what happened between me and Rod Isolini that night. He and I used to be close friends but over time, my smart aleck attitude obviously wore thin with him. And that was totally me… if I had the choice between making a humorous, cutting remark against someone with a good possibility of making the audience chuckle and being sensitive enough to refrain for fear of hurting their feelings… I’d choose the humorous, cutting remark every time.

Donny made the joke and I laughed at Rod. Donny still had equity in his friendship with Rod, the public humiliation of my laughing at him officially put my account in arrears. He chose to retaliate physically.

Our friendship was over.

It would only get worse between Rod and me. Much worse.

"Three Against One" Submission #21

Meanwhile, on the home front, things grew worse. Not only was my step-father a full-blown alcoholic, my mom, who had never really imbibed much alcohol prior to this, was now matching her husband drink for drink. To ever see them sober was a rarity indeed.

To make matters worse, my step-siblings, Jackie and Phillip and my cousin, Bruce, were definitely not a part of the “Bart Munson Fan Club.” Frankly, they couldn’t stand me. They began a united campaign to make my life miserable (more so than it already was), and it worked. They would berate me, exclude me from any plans and insult me in their “private” conversations… knowing that I was within earshot.

I remember one time, I was sitting on my bed with my feet on the floor when Jackie burst into my room and with great force, slammed the bedroom door into my knees. It hurt… badly! I yelled out in pain as she looked at me with a smirk on her face as I heard Phillip and Bruce laughing from the living-room. Mission accomplished, she returned to the living-room and gleefully joined in the laughter.

Another time, I remember drinking a can of pop that tasted very odd and yet, I took several drinks thinking that my taste buds were playing tricks on me. When I finally voiced my complaint about a horrible tasting Coke, Bruce proudly proclaimed that he had urinated in it when I had briefly left the room. I immediately rushed into the bathroom and made myself vomit.

Although I would never, ever recommend this sort of treatment for anyone for any reason… I was not blameless. I needed to be humbled. I was acting out with displays of arrogance, rudeness and disrespect. I don’t know why. Maybe it had something to do with the trauma that was ripping through my life from the point of my father’s death through the present set of tragic, familial circumstances.

By the end of my 7^th grade year, I felt a large shift in my interpersonal relationships. I already outlined my experience with my family but even my friends at school seemed to be pulling away from me.

A school year that had started out so promising for me, was ending in disaster. My parents were totally detached from me, the sober wing of my family hated me, my “friends” at school began to ignore me, Joni had broken up with me and I was miserable. The walls were caving in on me and I had no clue how to deal with it.

Beyond these years, I never had a relationship with Jackie and Bruce. Once we parted ways, any sort of relationship was completely severed.

Barb, me, Butch and Phil

It was different with Phillip. I never felt that he was a real willing participant in all of this crazy activity directed at me. I think he was sucked into it by “sibling pressure” more than anything. If you know Phil, you know that he has a great heart and it is hard to fathom that he would ever desire to hurt anyone. I have enjoyed numerous occasions of visiting with him over the years and I love him as a brother.

I didn’t see God in all of this but He was there… working, molding, drawing me to Himself. But in my frail, childlike mind… I couldn’t comprehend what was happening to me; why it was happening to me. I had no viable recourse. I had no power. I had no faith. All I had was pain and misery.

"First Kiss or First Miss?" Submission #19

I guess Joni and I began to do all the things required of junior high couples… we doodled each other’s names on our notebooks and the covers on our books (brown paper sacks from the grocery store… cut, folded and fitted around the book… a lost art), we smiled awkwardly at each other when our eyes accidently met in class or as we were walking in the hallways… but most important of all, we sat by each other at the high school sporting events, flanked by our respective entourages. Having these posses with us was crucial because they created just enough distraction to dilute the tension that would have been created had we been alone and forced to actually converse.

795-2108… that was her phone number. Sometimes I would sit and stare at the phone for long periods of time… trying to gather the courage to dial those numbers. More times than not… I’d talk myself out of it.

As with the entourage aspect… I again needed some sort of a distraction in order to aid me in making that call. Was that just me? Was I so lacking in game that I had to resort to such childish antics or was that par for the course at age 12? I always felt that it was just me.

Anyway… so, I had a tape recorder, a modern marvel of American technology and innovation. I loved listening to the radio and when a good song came on, I’d hit the “record” button to capture the recording of my favorite songs. It was the iTunes of the day minus the cost… and the quality.

Those recordings began to be my method of breaking the ice when I called my girlfriend. She’d answer the phone and I’d hit the “play” button. Within a few seconds, I’d stop the music and ask her if she knew the title of the song. It was our own, personal “Name That Tune” game. We had fun with it. We have actually talked and laughed about it in recent years… some 40+ years later.

I spent the night with Mac Cowles one Friday night, shortly after Joni and I had become an “item.” As was typical, Mac and I stayed up half the night talking about all sorts of things but… primarily… girls! Eventually, the conversation led to the inevitable question: “When are you going to kiss her, Muns?”

Trust me, I had asked myself that question almost from the minute this budding relationship began. But remember… I was the smooth operator that couldn't even hand her a ring… how in the world was I going to muster the courage to plant a wet one on her? But… I HAD to do it now. Mac’s question had morphed into a personal challenge.

My plan began to unfold. The next Friday, the high school basketball team had an away game. The school provided a “pep bus” as transportation for students to travel to the game. I had confirmed that Joni was planning to go and of course we would sit by each on the bus and at the game. Junior high relationship law. After we got back… I would walk her home… and then I would do it… I would kiss her goodnight.

Wait. How exactly do you kiss? I mean, I kissed my mom on the cheek occasionally but I was certain that this kiss had to differ greatly from that!

So, I practiced on the mirror. There… I said it. You probably did too… so stop judging me.

Friday night arrived. To say I was nervous was an understatement. Per protocol, I’d lined up a wingman for the event… Scott Lombardi… or “Squealer” as he had affectionately become known. He earned the nickname because of an extra-long transition period between his “boy voice” and his “man voice.” Sort of a Peter Brady syndrome.

We traveled to the game that night and, of course, I couldn't concentrate on the game. On the ride home, I had concluded that I needed to abort the operation. Call it off. Pull the plug. When I communicated my newly changed plans to Scott… he wouldn't let me even think about backing out now. He was not going to miss out on this ground breaking event.

The bus pulled up to the “bus barn” at the corner of 1^st and Main, across the street from the school. Joni lived about a half block away. That short walk did not supply me adequate time to calm my nerves. I walked about as slow as a kid could walk. Scott walked on ahead, giving me my space, but frequently whipping his head around, determined not to miss the fireworks.

We reached her house and then stood there… awkwardly… for what seemed to be an eternity. I think she sensed what was coming and was probably, secretly amused.

It was cold outside and not conducive for long good-byes. Scott was about a half block up the road with his hands thrust deeply in his pockets as he hopped up and down… trying to stay warm. He was running out of patience. I think Joni was running out of patience also.

“Well, I gotta go. Bye.” She said as she turned to walk toward her front door.

For a brief moment, I was disappointed and relieved at the same time. But before I could walk away, Squealer’s high pitched voice pierced the darkness. “C’mon Munson! Aren’t you going to kiss her? You can’t back out now!”

Joni stopped and turned around before she opened her door and I thought, “It’s now or never.”

I dashed up her walkway, forgetting about technique and all of the practicing on the mirror. I put one arm around her and awkwardly gave her a quick peck. I honestly aimed for the lips but in my haste, I’m pretty sure I got mostly chin.

I did it! I didn’t do it well… but I did it! I kissed Joni Dalton. As far as anyone else knew… I turned her legs to jelly… at least, that’s what I wanted to think.

Our romantic relationship lasted a good eight… or nine… basketball games. In real time, that’s maybe two months.

Despite my suave and debonair ways… she left me for an older man… a WAY older man. Tim
Wisecup was in high school for goodness sakes! He was just toying with her. Of course, they would never, ever last.

They’re still together today and are perfect for each other. They live life to the fullest and always find a way to still be kids at heart. I didn't really know Tim back then, I just considered him a thief. Today, I consider him a friend.

Ha ha... my first kiss...