StrengthMy grandfather was the strongest man I ever met. If you’ve ever seen someone on TV perform some superhuman feat of strength and thought that it wasn’t real, you’ve never met my grandfather. I have seen him rip a telephone book in half. He reached his full height of 6”4’ at the age of fourteen, and by the age of fifteen he had left school to work in the metal works. No one thought twice about it, because he was more than capable of the work and looked older than he was.More Like This
I am not strong. My joints frequently hurt, although I do not think I can convey to you how much of an understatement the word ‘hurt’ is in this situation. Most people didn’t understand why I didn’t run as long or as fast as the other children, or take delight in the frequent football scrimmages that almost all the boys I knew took such delight in. when I told them “I can’t, my legs ache,” they just told me to be strong.
My grandfather didn’t.
Once, I was a kid,Once, I was a kid, you know the one, the bright, too sensitive one, the nerd. When I was outside of school, I was protected, but inside school, it was a cloud of doubt, of nervousness and unease. Even if I wasn't challenged, attacked, I was always afraid. Afraid they'd find out I wasn't like them. Afraid I'd be hurt, destroyed. I knew things, but had to keep them hidden, not show off. If you did, it would draw their fire, which was dim, but angry. My life was pretending.More Like This
At last I grew up and learned the truth, about pretty much everything. But it didn't matter; most people would never know it, and everyone would forget.
Lancelot Price 2014 April 12