Loss of innocence.

My father spent some 24 years serving in the Air Force and one of the duty stations that we stayed at longest was Little Rock Air Force Base. In the many years that my father served as a C-130 loadmaster he developed a lifelong love for aviation which he still enjoys today. In my childhood however he felt quite awkward as a parent and dived into his work in away that left us often wondering who he was. His dedication to his work meant he was the best at his profession and so was invited to be an instructor. I may not have seen him very often and I may not have had a very good relationship with him, however his instructor position in Arkansas gave my childhood a moment of stability for some good memories. The thing is that for every child there is a moment when some incident or set of incidents happens and they realize the world is not safe. That humans are not moral and above other animals but are rather a higher species of pack animals. On a lighter note, L.R.A.F.B. was a great place to grow as a kid. We had tons of forest around our housing area. Summer days were spent dragging loads of old tires, wood, pieces of cars and other junk into the forest. We built what I remember to be amazing forts with trap doors and tree loft look outs. While the adults waged war with the world we waged war in a fantastic lost boys fashion. My mother would yell at me constantly for the tears in my jeans and the bloody cuts in my legs from running through the forest like a madman. "Do you think pants grow on trees? They cost money! Be more careful!", she would say to no effect. I was at war no time to be careful not to skin my appendages. We also had a small lake where we would smash box turtles with rocks and cut the heads off moccasins with our pocket knives. My mother also yelled about the mud lol. I also remember my favorite birthday present. It was a Magnavox dual cassette boom box. My allowance was spent on blank cassettes and the 8 D batteries necessary to supply my love for music. Yes, I was that dork walking around with the boombox on his shoulder. hahahahaha!!! Good times. I spent many evenings with the dual cassettes loaded up cruising the radio making playlists. Here is where it gets interesting. I was still a child and I had been sheltered from the darkness I would eventually see. Just picture it now a skinny little white kid in his room at night with his dual cassette boom box cruising the radio to find all his favorite songs from his favorite artists. C'mon DeeJay play me some Run DMC, Whodini, Dougy Fresh and the Get Fresh Crew, Kool Moe Dee,  LL Cool J, Sugar Hill Gang, Egyptian Lover....... I loved rap music. Oh my God, I loved it! Couldn't get enough. As good as life had been in Arkansas I always had a bully and during the 6th grade I was chased home everyday by a large black 7th grade boy. It was because of him that I met the best friend who would break my heart. One day while trying to avoid my bully I was so busy looking around for him that I accidentally ran into him. It was like running into an immovable object and he shoved me to the ground hard and in doing so nearly broke my boom box. I was so angered for the first time I stood up to him. My stand lasted all of about 2 seconds. So there I was on my knees with blood gushing out of my nose and my shirt choking me because the bully had it wrapped around his fist and I couldn't hold myself up. Through my blurry vision I saw another black kid push the bully on his shoulder and tell him to stop that was enough. Suddenly my entire weight hits the pavement. I hear,"You alright? Let me help you up. My name is Aaron." I told him he shouldn't have helped me because now he would get bothered too, but he assured me that his 8th grade brother would whoop him if he tried. We would hang out and work on breakdancing routines, listen to rap, play Atari, at his house because I didn't have one, and hang out the youth center. We even found another guy at school and lip synced Roxanne Roxanne for the talent show. The rest of 6th grade and that Summer was great. I tried to ignore the foreboding black cloud that sat on the horizon in the shape of my father. He didn't understand why I liked rap so much and why my best friend was black and he would make say things like, "Do you want to be black or something?" I just ignored him because I was proud of who I was and I liked rap and didn't see what that had to do with being black or white. It's like saying I can't enjoy something someone else made because I am not just like them. To me that seemed a bizarre idea as a child. My Father's behavior was like foreshadowing. First day of 7th grade came along and Aaron was avoiding me. Finally lunch came and I tried to sit down next to Aaron. It is probably one of the most awkward and heartbreaking moments in my life. Aaron would hardly look at me and wouldn't speak and all the other black kids at the table looked at me as if I had done something horribly wrong. Aaron's brother finally sat down at the table after getting out of the lunch line and says to me, "Y'all aren't kids anymore and Aaron can't be your friend anymore and you ain't welcome to sit at this table little cracker. Oh and don't come to our house no more. Aaron was supposed to tell you." He still wouldn't look at me and I didn't want to cry and start off the school year by attracting a brand new bully so I got up threw my lunch in the trash can and went out to the football field to sit under a tree. I went home that night and smashed the only thing that was in my room other than my bed and dresser. The best birthday present I had ever gotten lay in pieces and so did my heart. The world has been cruel from the beginning and now I am in Junior High and It's showing even more of its complex cruelty. Years later after losing one of my earliest best friends because of racism as a white person I find it funny that I am supposed to be the problem.