The Struckmother!

 

The Struckmother!

My first formal foray into social interaction began at age four when I began my scholastic career, one that would be a lot shorter than my parents had planned for me. I was a kindergarten inductee, like it or not while my older brother, Steve was already a veteran of scholastic achievement having successfully completed the first grade. I was full-young, but the school agreed to accept me, and mom was glad get me out of her hair for a half-day.

In those days, nobody worried about predators, sexual deviants and the like. Mom took me by the hand, and we crossed Main Street together where she turned me loose for my Ocean Avenue School walk with my little friend, Ali McDevitt who I would call for along the way. Each morning, we would walk hand- in-hand chattering, skipping and singing in typical childish fashion without a care in the world. Then one morning, the boom of reality fell upon us. It was the neighborhood bully! He seemed quite older, maybe five. I had no experience with this sort of thing, after all, I was four! The exact nature of his offense is gone from my memory now (almost 70 years at this writing) but I do remember his final threat. He told us that he was going to get his STRUCKMOTHER after us. That sounded pretty ominous. I should have given him an uppercut right then and there, but I was frozen. If he was looking to instill the emotion of fear, he did it up right and I came up short on chivalry.

After the altercation, we continued on to school, thinking about the struckmother and about what she might do to us. The specter of the struckmother played in the back of my mind for some time. I told my dad about the incident, and he could only conclude that the bully must have meant “step-mother”. My solution to this dilemma was simply to avoid this boy whenever possible. As the years rolled by, we transitioned into young adults and beyond, I forgot about him.

It all came flooding back in 2008 at our 45^th class reunion when I ran into Ali, my little girl friend that I failed to adequately protect that fateful day in 1950. An entire lifetime had passed, and we talked about the old days, I asked her if she remembered that incident. She certainly had and we chuckled thinking about our mindset and the innocence of youth, lost forever. With so many years gone by, one might think that this chance meeting is the end of the story. Oh, no…...

One afternoon in 2019, my phone rang here in Florida and it was the bully! He just called to catch up and talk about old times in Northport. He told me that he had been in the Marines and spent a good bit of time in Viet Nam. I guess a guy like that would have done very well in the Marines. I could tell from our conversation that he is still a tough guy but that his roots are very important to him, revealing a softer side. From my experience, Northport folks share a common tie. Everyone knew each other in our hometown and many are, or were related at some point.

And now, the obvious question that I’ve wanted to know the answer to for 70 years. What is a struckmother? When he was able to connect the question with the incident, he said oh, that! I was probably trying to say “I was going to get my big brother after you”. This gives insight as to the stage of our development. He wasn’t even old enough even say big brother! Ali, if you are reading this, take comfort in knowing the answer to this question that we pondered nearly seventy years ago.