As a growing 12-year-old boy, I was pretty nearly always hungry. It became a thing. We would have a cookout, grilling hot dogs, and Dad would buy two eight-packs. Dad, Peggy, and my step-sisters Debbie and Barb would split an eight-pack of hot dogs. The other eight-pack of hot dogs was for me. That’s no joke. I would eat eight hot dogs, with buns, with no difficulty. And I would eat dessert afterward.
It was a joke to them, and I laughed too, but I had just spent several years not being able to eat as much as I wanted at dinner. I was called a pig, and was accused of gluttony. Remember the McDonald’s story with the Happy Meal? It was my job to clean up after dinner every night back then. I would literally sneak a last big serving spoon full of whatever was left as I put away the leftovers and loaded the dishwasher. It was so bad at one point when I was in sixth grade (before I went to live with my dad), that my blood sugar crashed one night and I almost passed out. I spent an entire day away from school, in a doctor’s office, getting my blood drawn every half hour. Four times in the right arm, and three times in the left. I also had to drink some nasty orange stuff. I’m guessing now that it was for a glucose tolerance test? There’s no one left alive to ask, so we’re going to go with that explanation. Anyway, the cure for the condition was simple: feed your child. Unbelievable. There was one upside to spending a half a day at the clinic. They had comic books to read! The one that stands out in my memory was Superboy #205. One hundred pages! And I read it over and over again.
In “The Legion of Super-Executioners” story, Ultra Boy has reportedly gone insane, and is set to be executed by the Legion. Superboy, visiting with his girlfriend Lana Lang on her birthday, tries to get through to Ultra Boy but is overcome by his friend, who ties him up in his own cape. When Superboy discovers the secret that only Ultra Boy, who can use only one ultra-power at a time, is actually the only one not under the control of The Master, he and Lana are set to be executed as well. The story, written by Cary Bates and drawn by one of my all-time favorite artists, Mike Grell, remains a key reason why Ultra Boy is my favorite Legionnaire. The fact that he has to think about how to use his powers makes him a more interesting and compelling character to me than Superboy or Mon-El.
The nurses there were so nice, that since they saw me reading this comic over and over again the whole time I was there, they let me keep it! I hid it away so that Steve wouldn’t take it away and burn it like he had all my others. When I moved in with my dad in January, it came out of hiding and was stored with the others that I rescued from my grandma and grandpa’s house.
Now that I was free to eat as much as I wanted, I did. They started teaching me to cook as well, which allowed me to experiment with different food. The only rule was that I had to eat what I made, even if I didn’t like it. And I did. One of the things I already knew how to make was pancakes. My dad’s second wife had mad chocolate chip pancakes one time when I was visiting, and I really liked them. But when we were out of chocolate chips? I opened a can of sweet corn and added kernels of corn to the batter. Topped with butter and sugar instead of syrup, I thought they were delicious. No one else did, but that just meant more for me.
Another of my inventions was inspired by candy. I loved Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups when I tried them. It became one of my favorites, as they already were one of my dad’s. So, when we had chocolate sundaes one night, I added a big scoop of Jif creamy peanut butter to my sundae. All the women acted like they were grossed out, but my dad liked it too. He got what I was trying to do and he joined me. It became a loving moment that I never experienced with my mother or stepfather. That simple gesture meant the world to me, and cemented the bond between us.
The next day, my dad started teaching me to drive. He had a 1976 Ford E-150 Econoline van that he planned to customize, as so many people back in those days did.
It has one sliding door with a window on the passenger side, but the driver’s side was just a blank panel behind the driver’s door. There were only two seats in the front, and none in the back. We put an old swivel living room chair in the back for when we drove up to Mesick to visit my grandparents. Seat belts? What for?
The van had a three-speed standard transmission with the gear shift on the steering column, so when I learned to drive, it was with a clutch. Since we lived on a dirt road in the country, it was fairly safe. And within an hour or so, I was shifting through all three gears and driving smoothly. I was never so proud of myself in my whole life at that point. Twelve years old, and I could drive a stick! I couldn’t wait to tell my friends at school. Having grown up for five years being told I was stupid and irresponsible and would never amount to anything, this was like heaven on Earth.
To this day, I think of my dad kindly whenever I eat ice cream with chocolate syrup and peanut butter.
