Private Idaho

I don't know what it is today, but I am all kinds of tired. Oh, I know what it is. I stayed up too late and woke up to early. I've been zombie status all day because of it, but as promised, here is a time warp from a very memorable first day of school.

Mid-way through my seventh-grade year, my mother moved my two sisters and me to Idaho. The details of why are not important, but just know that we were not happy. We had visited my Uncle Stew and his family when we were younger and Baby Sis had not been created yet, but all I could remember was that my older cousin Mike was a dick. I was also bitter that Uncle Stew had effectively stolen my grandmother from us, as shortly after my mom and step dad married, she went to live in Idaho.

My Uncle Marc and his buddy helped us move up there. He made it fun. Everything was a joke and he helped change my attitude about how Idaho was going to be. Except Uncle Marc wasn't staying in Idaho with us.

We got there and settled in as best we could with Uncle Stew's (at the time) 3 little kids running amok and creeping us out. The girl, Jo, was 4-ish and kept chanting "The cousins are coming!" over and over. While only 11, my witt and sarcasm was already strongly developed and I had to refrain from making fun of them...all of them.

You know what, there is far too much detail required to explain my family in Idaho. And considering they're the most manipulative, hypocritical Christians I have ever met, we're gonna skip 'em. They don't really matter in life so they shouldn't matter in my blog (which I know one of them reads searching for gossip).

So our first day of school came and it was cold as shit. Most of our clothing wasn't unpacked yet, though I was lacking on the winter clothing front. We had come from California, it wasn't anywhere near that cold. I threw together (what I thought) was a cute outfit and tried to mimic my Older Sister's "I don't give a fuck" 'tude. I failed (of course) but we looked good and I had just learned that the middle school and high school were joined, so I would have her there if I needed her.

Mom drove us to school (but we later took the bus), which was located 14 miles away in the town of Riggins. Everyone stopped and turned on the town's main strip when we passed. Mom drove a candy-apple red Lincoln Town Car, so I guess we stood out a bit. As she turned up the steep hill to the school, I got more nervous. Would they like me? Would they hate me? Would there be cute boys? What if I got lost? What if Older Sister ditched me (she did)? What if I got on the wrong bus home?

When we flattened out and I saw the actual school, I let out an audible laugh. My middle school back home was bigger than this place. When we walked to the office through the main hall, I literally LOL'd because there was absolutely no way to get lost. The main hall was the only hall. It connected everything. Well, except the main middle school building, but that also had one hall and only two classrooms. One question answered, I would not get lost.

A very large, loud woman with Texas pageant hair greeted us at the office. Her name was Winnie (no more code names, shit just got real) and she was the Principal. I would later learn the students called her Winnie the Pooh, which is hilarious now because she went on and on about how much everyone liked her. They didn't. At all.

This is where I am sure I am messing the whole year we were there into one day. I can remember the events of that day, just not the order, so eff it. You'll be gettin' a great tale.

I think the first class I went to was that of Buck Fitch. Yes, that is his name. He was out social studies teacher. He was big, balding, and burly and the best part...he had a stutter. He yelled at everyone for no apparent reason and the louder and meaner he got, the more the stutter came out. Once, he was talking to my mom and he said "L-l-l-l-Lydia" and she wasn't aware of the stutter. She thought he was calling her Little Lydia (my grandma and her have the same first name) and she said "Who you callin' little?!" If he wasn't such a jerk, I probably would have felt bad for him.

He sat me by Greg, our next door neighbor. He was cute (I thought at 11, now, not so much) and seemed like a bad boy. Every girl likes a bad boy, right? Seated next to him were the two Sarah's. Or Sara and Sarah. Sarah was brunette, while Sara was blond. Both looked like skanks. Yes, skanky 12-year-olds. Well, almost 13, I would learn because at 11, I was the youngest 7th grader.

The Sarah/Sara's started in on me quick. Where in California was I from? Where did I shop at? Was I in a gang? Did I know Snoop Dogg? Did I surf every day? All the stuff they had ever heard about California. I should have let them think I was in a gang, maybe they wouldn't have made the next year of my life a living hell.

The next class was with Mrs. Updegrove. Math. It was pretty remedial for me and my fancy California education (public school but light years ahead of them) and I spent most of the class getting to know the rest of them. Topper (real name and yes, after the penguin) was a country boy who was illiterate. He had to read something from the textbook and he struggled with the word "The". He was funny enough, in a laughing at not with way, and he dipped in class. I had no idea what dip even was until him, so thanks for that, I guess. His midget buddy Ryan sat next to him. I'm sure he has grown since then, but he was shorter than me. And like all short boys, he was a loud mouth trying to make up for his stature. He had blond hair and it flopped over his forehead in what I now think was a primitive Bieber hair style, but shaved in the back. He wore baggy clothes because no one informed Idaho that trend had passed.

The girls were nice enough. Lindsey, Stephanie and Meghan all were jocks and sat together. Shannon and Thea were glued to each others hip. And Faith and Miranda were part of the Sarah/Sara's and part of the others. Believe me, it was a very fine line to walk. There was also Barbara and Danielle. Barbara could use a shower and Danielle was a beached whale. I didn't care how nice they were (well, Danielle was NOT) I knew to stay away.

Following math was science with Mr. McCormick. He was a ginger (before it was cool...just kidding, it was never cool), short, and peppy. He took to me right away. He was sarcastic and dry at times and I would be the only one who laughed/got it. He would dryly crack on each student as they attempted to read, and though I am sure it didn't help me fit in, I had to laugh. He said "Let's see what you got" and had me read aloud. He gave me a standing ovation and said "Thank you, I truly appreciate that." That's where my day started to go downhill.

Lunch happened and I sat outside by myself because my sister had already become popular and didn't meet me. A few upperclassmen walked by and took pity on me to strike up a conversation. They knew my cousin Mike and maybe he said to be nice to me or maybe they knew what a chode he was and felt bad, but they spent the rest of lunch outside with me.

After lunch was English with Mr. Lindsey. He was originally from there, moved away to find a wife who wasn't related to him (most of that canyon was inbred, I'd put money on it) and came back to teach. He was pretty cool, though the rest of the students didn't think so. Maybe because he required them to do shit. Maybe because his wife was Alaskan Indian. Seriously. Biggest bunch of racists to ever walk the earth. To this day I am still friends with the Lindsey Family. Tim is the oldest, then Jordan, then Ana and his wife Bev. They were like an oasis in the desert for our family. If any of you are reading this, I would not have survived that hell whole without you all. And Mr. Lindsey (I can't call you Randy), you have no idea how much you molded me in your class. Thank you.

I had band and something else that day but I can't remember. In band, though I was a clarinet player, they gave me a trombone. Seriously. Then somehow I got switched to percussion. Sarah played clarinet and tried to make me intimidated. Now I know she was so good because she sucked cock like a champ.

It never got better. Ever. They hated me from day one to the very last day when we left that hell whole back for California. Sure, there were moments of fun. Like when I personally started a middle school cheer squad, but that slowly lost its luster when the Sarah/Sara's and Mirnada threatened to beat my ass if I stayed on it. I did, but only to piss them off. There was Aaron. My first real boyfriend. His brother was dating my sister, well, since they were two of the only not inbred guys in town. I was too young and immature to handle it though and broke up with him over something stupid a month or so after. Big mistake because it just gave them another reason to hate me.

I went to church, so there was another strike. I didn't live in a trailer (which was all the rage there) so I must have thought I was better than them. My mom drove a "limo" as they called it, so we must be all fancy. They didn't get my sense of humor, I didn't dress like a skank, I thought studying was a good thing, and I wore glasses. I also wasn't my older sister. She was adored or feared in her half of the school, I was tortured. I cried daily, though I tried to never let them see me cry. I would hide out in the library whenever possible or hang with some upper-classmen from band as they protected me from the wrath of the Sarah/Sara's. We got a new principal and he expelled Sarah for her threats and bullying, but her white trash family slashed his tires and she was allowed to come back.

I prayed every morning and read Ephisians 6:10-17 in the parking lot before going in. You know, "put on the full armor of God so that you can take your stand against the devil's schemes..." because to me Sarah was the devil. My eyes filled with tears and hers filled with hate. I now know somethings about her family that explain a whole lot. She also got knocked up in high school (probably by her daddy) and popped out a few more before marrying a much older man. She still lives in that canyon and probably still gets off on making other's miserable. She probably wouldn't remember my name if I told it to her, but I'll always remember hers and pity the shit out of her. Knowing that she doesn't know how disgusting she is makes me happy. Is that wrong?

There are a few girls who have gotten out and gone far. I occasionally talk to them on FB and I am very happy for them. They have wonderful husbands, happy kids, good jobs, and they didn't let that canyon swallow them up. Unfortunately, they are few and far between. A quick FB search of the names I can remember (okay, like all of them) shows that they're still getting drunk and high, have different baby daddies/mommas, never went to college or didn't graduate and still live in a trailer. Qualities that make you popular in Riggins.

I could write an entire book on that year in Riggins, easily. Remind me some time and I'll share some more. See you tomorrow!