The day after Labor Day was always the first day of school when I was growing up in Michigan. So, on Tuesday, September 6 was my first day at Mesick Junior High School.

This would mark the 11th time that I was starting in a new school. I had started school in Hastings, Michigan. I went to Mesick Elementary for part of Kindergarten and the very beginning of first grade, then after the divorce I was in Elk Rapids. We didn’t stay there long and I was in Traverse City for the last of first grade going into second grade. Then for the rest of second grade, all of third grade and the beginning of fourth grade, I was at Northeastern Elementary school back in Hastings. It was not the same Hastings school in which I had started Kindergarten. From there I went to Delton for about a month, and then onto Bentheim Elementary in Hamilton, Michigan, where I finished fourth grade and started fifth grade. I went to part of fifth grade in Allegan, and then we moved to the upper peninsula, where I finished fifth grade and started sixth grade at Engadine Elementary. I got halfway through sixth grade there before I went to live with my dad in Tustin, which is where this story began.

Mesick Junior High was a very different experience. The junior and senior highs were in the same building, with the exception of two mobile classrooms just outside the main building. So, here I was, at age 12, walking the same hallways with high school seniors. It was more than a little intimidating.

When I got to seventh grade, I did know a few people. There were several kids that I had been in Kindergarten with. I re-introduced myself to them, and made a few new friends as well. I had always made friends fairly easily. I didn’t have much choice since I was constantly changing schools. One of the advantages that I had was that I was always the tallest person in my class, no matter where I had gone to school. Almost immediately, I was friends with Steve Coger and Kenny La Fountain. I knew Steve from Kindergarten, and Kenny was his best friend.

I had been a dominant athlete in Tustin, but Steve and Kenny were better than I was. Picking teams in phys ed always ended with each of them going to separate teams as first picks and then whichever one I ended up on would inevitably win whatever game were were playing. Phys ed was also traumatic for us seventh grade boys because we were required to shower…at school. Seriously, our grade, given to us by Coach McNitt, was made up of two things: participation and whether or not we showered. We used the same locker room as the high schoolers, as the varsity and junior varsity sports teams. The showers sprayed hot needles all over you. The water pressure was insane. Once everyone got over the initial weirdness of seeing each other naked, it was fine, but the tension leading up to it was high. I still remember asking for soap on a rope for Christmas.

It was actually very good that I was forced to take a shower after phys ed because puberty had hit me like a freight train. I was constantly sweating. My hair would be almost instantly oily, and I regularly pitted out my shirts. This caused all kinds of grief for me.

My math and English teachers were married. Mr. and Mrs. Neahr taught out in the mobile classrooms outside the building. Mrs. Neahr taught English and was like a second mom. She was generally encouraging, but she was discerning about what we were reading.

I had tried to show Kenny and Steve my copy of Batman #291 from the summer, but Mrs. Neahr snatched it right out of my hand and threw it away, calling it “trash.” I mean, look at it, it has the word “Hell” right on the cover! I was horrified, and never brought a comic book to school again.

Mr. Neahr taught math and terrified everyone. He always wore a jacket and tie, and had this cool fifties haircut with horned rim glasses. He addressed us as Miss or Mister, or simply by our last names when he was feeling jovial. A lot of people struggled in math with Mr. Neahr, and I hated his class. Not because of the material, but because of a bully. It was the first time I had been subjected to bullying.

Margaret Saxton sat next to me in the back row of the classroom, and she reveled in punching me. Every time Mr. Neahr’s attention was diverted, she would punch me in the left arm as hard as she could. After about five punches, I was near tears. There was nothing I could do. She constantly called me “greaseball” and said things like, “You’re a real hunk; a hunk of shit.” I could not do anything about this abuse. I was always taught not to hit girls, but I was seriously tempted to put that rule to the test. I would go home, barely able to lift my left arm. There were other tormentors as well. Dan Stacy constantly made fun of me. My aunt had bought me my first pairs on non-tighty whitey underwear, and he made fun of me in the locker room when we changed for phys ed. One time he even brought a camera in and said he took a picture of me. The camera, as it turned out, didn’t have film in it. But the thought of someone passing around a photo of me in my underwear terrified me. Seventh grade was turning out to be a nightmare.

I tried to find a way to fit in. I was getting desperate. Then, the solution appeared to me. There was a kid named Denver Liabenow that got everyone’s approval by being a class clown. He would do the craziest stuff, like crawling around the room like a spider. Everyone loved Denver. So, I decided to be funny.

While I couldn’t be funny like Denver, I had my own ways. My grandparents had several comedy albums that we had listened to for years. We listened to Bob Newhart, Andy Griffith, Jonathan Winters, Homer & Jethro, Bill Cosby, and my personal favorites, the Smother Brothers. I got them all out, and listened to them using headphones so I wouldn’t disturb anyone else. The Smothers Brother appealed to me with their biting wit. They often made fun of the establishment, using sarcasm and subtlety in a way that other comedians didn’t. I took a lesson from them and started retaliating against the people who bullied me. When they would say something like Margaret would do, calling me a “hunk of shit,” I would strike back by saying something like, “And I’m still out of your league. What does that say about you?” It worked. People around us laughed and she stopped talking to me.

Dan Stacey took a lot more effort. If I insulted him, he would just beat the crap out of me. So, I appealed to what I noticed about him. He could really eat a lot. So, when we were in a situation where there was food, I was sure to engage him with a matching appetite. This would come in handy later.

Mr. Neahr did see that I was struggling to fit in and that I didn’t seem very happy in Mesick. He ran a club for kids just like me, who were the “oddballs” of the school. They played a new game called Dungeons & Dragons after school, and they even had a club. I looked at some of the stuff they were doing, and it looked cool, but I didn’t want to be in the “oddball” club. I thanked him but declined.

My dad really wanted me to become a part of the whole school community, so on Fridays, after he got paid, he would take me to dinner at the restaurant (remember, there was only one), and then we’d go to the high school football game. He had no interest in high school football, but I think he just wanted me to connect somehow. At the very first game I attended, Steve Coger was there and we ran around together. Steve had the job of raising the flag during the national anthem, and I asked if I could help with that. So, every week, that became our thing. It was a rocky start, but things started to turn around fairly quickly.

When the football team was away, my dad would take me to the movies. We saw some great ones like Smokey and the Bandit and Close Encounters of the Third Kind, but some not-so-great ones, too, like Starship Invasions. More on those later.