We lived at 208 North 8th Street in Cheney. It looks like the entire area has been torn down and now it is apartments and a parking lot, but it used to be housing for Air Force families. I don’t know how old I was. I think it would have been 1st grade because I was still going to Betz Elementary School across the street, so probably 7 years old. Older kids used to chase me around and try to pin me down as a game. I was fast, and very squirmy, so I could usually escape. I had never been in a real fight though, and I decided that I should be.

I had a friend named Danny. In my mind, he was invincible! He had long hair, or maybe even a rat tail (yes, those were popular then). I wanted one, but my parents said no! Danny and I were friends, and if anyone did anything bad to me, he usually took care of business. One time that I remember was in the winter. It was cold and snowy. We were at school playing outside at recess and were having a snowball fight. One of the kids smashed me in the face with a hard-packed snowball, so Danny avenged my near-death. The kid started running, and Danny started chasing him. The hood on the kid’s coat was flapping behind him as he ran away. Danny grabbed the hood with his left hand and yanked on it, which pulled the kid to a stop. As the kid turned, Danny swing with his right hand and *KAPOW* punched the kid in his forehead! I don’t know how bad it hurt him since Danny was wearing his snow gloves, but it looked like a scene from a movie and the kid ran off crying. So, I figured that because Danny could fight, and I hung around with Danny, I probably knew how to fight as well. WWF wrestling (now WWE) was also very popular, and I watched it all the time, which meant I was pretty sure I was a full-blooded combat bad ass! I’m not sure how that is logical, but that’s how it worked in my kid brain. It’s weird how kids think, right? Maybe I was just an exception. I don’t know. Anyway.

I don’t recall there being anyone that I really disliked, but I had to fight someone. I needed to choose someone that I thought I could beat because fighting looked like it could hurt! Sadly, I decided to pick the slow kid at school that walked home across the park near where Brad and myself walked home. I didn’t want to punch someone unprovoked, because I clearly had high morals (yes, that is heavy sarcasm), so I had to make him want to fight me. I started tripping him so he would fall down. I kept doing it until he got mad and charged at me. Using my superior WWF skills, I turned as he charged and put him in a headlock with my left arm. And just like on TV, I started to punch him on top of his headlocked head. I did this 2 or 3 times, but lord almighty it hurt my fist! I let him go and walked off. No flying elbows, spinning punches, or body slams. I guess I won the fight, but I sure didn’t feel like a victor. Given the circumstances, it would have been a bad sign if I had. Either way, my first fight was a success, but it did not make me want to have anymore fights because my fist hurt from punching him on his skull.

Later that day, the boy’s parents showed up to my house. They told my parents I had beat up their kid. I had to apologize to him, which I did. I don’t remember what the rest of my punishment was, but it is safe to assume I did not enjoy it. That took the rest of any desire to be a hand-to-hand fighting master right out of my head. At least for a few days it did. It’s weird how kids think.