Dear Past Me...Don't be a Jerk.

Ever have those moments where you think about something you did years and years ago, and you have an ache in your stomach because of how guilty you still feel?  I definitely do.  The one that makes me feel like the biggest jerk in the world is from 6^th grade at Hayden Elementary.  How old are kids in the 6^th grade?  11?  It’s amazing that even at that age I had the potential to be a cruel, heartless person.  And I was a really good kid back then.  I obeyed rules, played well with others, and felt empathy for the kids on the fringe…except for one.  One boy stood out for all the wrong reasons.  He must have come from a fairly chaotic family.  He often came to school in need of a bath, sporting tattered clothes and messed up hair.  But worse than all that was the fact that he was known for picking his nose... and consuming the contents.  I know…pretty gross.  But remember, he was 11.  Yet, even as a kid I not only recognized this boy’s differences, but did something about it that to this day I regret.  Valentine’s Day was approaching, and I dragged my mom off to the store to purchase pre-made Valentine’s Day cards in preparation for our annual party and valentine distribution.  For an art project we decorated paper bags, taped the bags to our desks, and on the big day, after filling up on sweets and baked goods we delivered our valentines to each of our classmates.  Except I intentionally did not make one for the nose-picker.  I walked right past his desk with nothing to deliver into his sack.  Yeah, that was a real jerk thing to do.

I knew this was wrong even as I was doing it, but I was too young and immature to fight against that inner nature that said, “Ostracize the weird kid.”  It pains me to this day to admit that I not only had that kind of cruelty within me even at the tender age of 11, but that I could not (would not?) fight against such a thing. 

Of course, I’ve learned a lot since my days as a Hayden Hawk in Ms. Wright’s class, and I guess one victory is that I at least feel awful about my past actions.  Far better that than being indifferent to my past sins, I suppose.  If I could go back 30 years and keep my current brain and point of view, I wonder what would change both in my life and in the lives of those around me?  I wish I could write the past me a letter, offering that knobby-kneed tomboy some advice for how to navigate this rough world.  I think I will start composing that letter, and will perhaps post it to this blog when I am finished.  While I wouldn’t want to go back and be a kid (who wants to slog through all those darn math classes again?  And let’s not even talk about those awkward middle school years), it would be so great to send myself a few words of wisdom and encouragement.  Maybe I’d be way ahead of my now 40-year-old self.  At the very least I could have invested in my mutual funds earlier (hiding cash behind picture frames isn’t the most sound financial savings plan), purchased some Microsoft stock when it was cheap,  and maybe spent more time practicing my violin.  Who knows?  I could have been the next great early-retired, fiddle-playing, technology mogul.