Dennis said, "I Don't Like The Way This Year's Startin' Out!" Well, no wonder he feels that way; he's back in the corner again! Whatever he did to deserve it, I'm sure the punishment fit the crime. After all, he's Dennis the Menace.
A comic strip is oftentimes a close reflection of real life. That's why it's easy to joke and make fun about the antics of a cartoon character like Dennis. We see part of ourselves in him. When I started the new year in 1971, my own life, once more, was about to mirror this famous menace. You'd think as a ten-year-old that I'd make better decisions than five-year-old Dennis Mitchell. I was twice his age, but apparently not twice as smart! I should have known better.
Take a look at this single cartoon panel of Dennis and Joey with a supply of snowballs. The full strip has them deciding who to target. They eliminate the mailman, Mrs. Wilson, his babysitter, a reverend, school teacher, and Uncle Charlie. Then Dennis turns his head and says, "Now wait...wait...wait... Our luck may be changin'." Dennis, with snowball in hand, and Joey looking on, spot Margaret strolling up the sidewalk. You can just imagine what happens next.
My own trouble started at Warren Elementary School where I was in the 5th grade. It was the weekend, and I was with several of my friends playing on the school grounds. I remember two or three girls walking up the sidewalk outside the chain-link fence. They were like Margaret strolling along when Dennis turns his head and says, "Now wait...wait...wait." The only difference was, this time, it was happening for real. All of our heads turned when we spotted the girls
walking by.
I don't remember who threw the first snowball, but I do know I joined in with the others. I wasn't guilty by association; I was just plain guilty. The snowballs were flying over and through the fence. The girls were dodging as best they could and running to escape the barrage. The snowballs hitting the chain-link fence broke apart and sprayed them with snow. They quickly ran out of range, and it was all over within less than a minute. No one was hurt, except for some bruised feelings.
We all thought that was the end of it. We sure were wrong! The following Monday, school started innocently enough—just an ordinary day. That is, until I got called out to the hallway. I knew then I was in big, big trouble. I could read it on the teachers' faces. The girls had turned us in. I was asked to explain what happened over the weekend. I tried to reason with them, that the incident didn't happen during "school-time." I was wondering why I was in trouble with them. My argument was shut down fast, and I was left with no defense. I knew what I did was wrong, and I had to accept whatever punishment came next.
There never was any formal action taken against me. I'm not so sure about my friends. There was no detention, suspension, or anything else. From what I remember, I didn't even have to apologize. But there was a telephone call from the principal's office to my home. My mother's housekeeper, Edith Sealey, picked up the phone and took down the message. Now you're probably thinking I got off pretty easy. It sure looks that way. But I was about to experience what I consider to be the worst punishment of my life. It wasn't physical, but it was the kind you don't ever forget.
Before I continue, I first have to tell you about Edith Sealey. She's the one in the photo with my friend Eddie and me. And from now on I'm just going to call her Sealey, because that's what I've called her my whole life. That is, except for when I first learned to talk—back then, she was "seewee." Now, when Sealey came to work for my mother, I hadn't yet been born. And when I finally did arrive, my mother would often remind me that it was Sealey who first carried me into the house from the hospital. She was a big part of my life and was like a second mother to me. She was family, and I loved her tremendously. Over the years, I'd call her from time to time, and we kept in touch. I always loved to hear her distinctive voice on the other end of the telephone. I was even blessed to have her at my wedding 32 years later. When she passed away many years ago, it left a great big hole in my heart.
It was Sealey who told my mother about the call from school. I would hear the rest of the story from my mother. Apparently, when Sealey answered the phone, she couldn't believe the school was calling about me. She told them, "That doesn't sound like my Bobby." The image she had of me didn't fit the picture of what she was hearing. To her, I was not a mean kid that would hurt others. She knew that! But my actions said otherwise. I had greatly disappointed her. When I heard what she had said, it deeply affected me. It may not sound like much reading these words, but what happened to my heart was transformative. I knew I would try, as best I could, to never again disappoint her like this. I wanted to be the person she knew me to be—the person she expected me to be.
This picture is now my second mug shot, fifth-grade school picture. This is what the snowball-throwing perpetrator looked like at the time of the crime—that's me. But I've had a change of heart.
This brings me to the lesson I learned from all of this. I had failed to reflect Sealey's image of me. She saw me as a good, kind, caring young boy. If I truly loved her, then I would try to be the person she knew me to be and wanted me to be—a good kid.
Doesn't the same lesson hold true for our relationship with our Heavenly Father? In John 14:15, Jesus said, "If you love Me, you will keep My commandments." We are all made in His image to reflect His Glory. Unfortunately, sin distorts that image. When I sinned, I distorted the image Sealey saw of me. Also, instead of Dennis and the rest of us turning our heads towards sin, we should have instead turned our faces away from it. It sure would have kept all of us from getting into trouble. And for Dennis, it would have saved him another trip back to the corner.
In this Corner...I'm the Menace continues in Part III at:
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