I think that many of our tastes are formed when we are quite young and tend to stay with you forever, or at least that's been my experience.
This is a story about my growing up, and hope you enjoy it.
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1. The love of my life.
The first moment I saw her, I knew I wanted to marry her. She was a tall slender woman with flaming red hair who looked like a movie star to me. I watched every move she made all day, every day, and her beauty was unmatched by any woman I had ever seen. She had perfect white teeth that sparkled when she smiled, and that face would light up the room at those times. Her face, neck and arms were covered with freckles, and I wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of my life counting them.
Although she was in her thirties she dressed in the fashion of the sixties, with long flowing skirts and loud colors. She used to wear a green and rust colored paisley dress that was a particular favorite of mine, and days she wore that were special indeed.
There were a few obstacles that stood in the way of my quest of this ravishing goddess. One of the major problems was the fact that Mrs. Murray was married. The other thing standing in my way was the fact that she was my teacher. My third grade teacher. These were quite formidable problems, although at the time I didn't understand why. All I knew was that I loved her.
I excelled in third grade, so much so that if you reviewed my report cards from my school career, it looks like someone else stood in for me that year. I wanted so much to please her that I studied every night and did my homework willingly and thoroughly.
When Mrs. Murray would make the rounds of the room, the times when she would stop by my desk would almost cause me cardiac arrest. I would watch as she would point at my paper, but my eyes were fixated on her pale freckled arms and the downy hair that covered her forearms, so light in color it was almost invisible.
At times like those I would attempt to make contact with her, brushing my arms against hers in a clumsy and childish mating ritual. I didn't know whether she noticed this or not, but I was too oblivious to know or care.
Mrs. Murray would always explain to us the virtues of natural living and eating right, and when I saw the see would eat fruit and granola as snacks, I followed suit. This despite the fact that I would have much preferred the candy bars and chips all the other kids munched on. Not me, at least not when I was in Mrs. Murray's classroom.
As I had mentioned, Mrs. Murray was married, and I hated her husband. Not that I knew him or anything, but he was living with the love of my life so I despised him. I thought of ways of winning her away from him, but one day in the spring he came to visit Mrs. Murray at school, and he came into our class to be introduced to us.
As I looked at the tall and handsome man in his Marine uniform, my heart sank. He was like a living G.I. Joe, and we all stared in awe at this man with his chest full of medals as he told us what he did in the service.
This became a geography lesson, as Mrs. Murray rolled down a map and explained where Vietnam was. This was where Sgt. Murray was going to be headed pretty soon, and it seemed like it was on another planet. We all got to shake his hand as we left the classroom to go lunch, and I dawdled enough to be last even though my desk was at the front of the room. I was hoping he would leave so I wouldn't have to shake his hand, but he was persistent, so I grabbed my lunch and walked up to him at the doorway.
"This must be Adam," Sgt. Murray said as he held out his hand. "I've heard a lot about you, young man."
I watched my hand disappear inside his massive paw and tried to give him a handshake that would make him wince. Looking back at this it must have been comical, but he didn't laugh and just shook my hand. I was very polite and smiled before walking down the hall. When I made the turn to go to the cafeteria I saw them kiss each other in the doorway, and it was then I decided that I hated him, and I hoped that he would get shot.
2. Time passes.
I really didn't hope he got killed, but the thought did cross my mind for one brief second. I also thought that pretty soon I would be old enough to join the Marines, and then I would be an even bigger hero than Sgt. Murray was. Then Mrs. Murray would fall in love with me.
Next year I suffered through fourth grade with a miserable teacher who could not possibly compare with Mrs. Murray, but I did make a point of running into Mrs. Murray in the halls as often as possible. Additionally, I would stay after school and drop by her room to offer my services. You never could tell when you needed someone to go clap the erasers against the wall outside to clean them.
I'm sure I was a major pain, but Mrs. Murray never failed to greet me with a smile. Several times I was allowed to go outside and clean the erasers for her, and I did so with an enthusiasm unmatched in blackboard history. What she thought of this grinning and goofy kid who would race back to her room covered with chalk dust and somewhat lean erasers, I can't imagine.
Toward the end of my fourth grade year, Mrs. Murray didn't come in to school for a couple of days. I was worried that she had gotten sick, but it turned out that was not the case. Something far more serious had happened.
Sgt. Murray had been killed in Vietnam. Just like I had hoped for, if only for a second. The news did not bring me the joy that I thought it would. Instead, it brought a sense of guilt that was overwhelming me, and I went through the last couple weeks of school in a daze.
Mrs. Murray did not return to school those last couple of weeks, and I was left to stew in my guilt for the entire summer. The next September on the first day of the school year I raced past her classroom, almost hoping she wasn't there. She was there, however, and I spent the day trying to avoid her.
By the end of the day, I could no longer live with myself, and so after the school day ended I went down to her classroom. I had a speech in my head all prepared to give to Mrs. Murray when I entered her room, but when I saw her my mind went blank. She was just as beautiful as ever, although the smile didn't seem quite as bright and the face not quite as glowing when she saw me at the doorway.
"Hello Adam! How's fifth grade so far?" Mrs. Murray asked.
I stammered and stuttered a minute before it all came roaring out of me. Through the tears I explained to her how it was my fault that Sgt. Murray had been killed. I had wished it to happen, although only for a second, and I really didn't mean it. I only thought it because I loved her and wanted to marry her and spend the rest of my life with her. All this while bawling like a baby and peppered with "I'm sorry" over and over again.
I found myself in Mrs. Murray's arms, hugging her as tight as possible while she comforted me and tried to calm me down, because I was hyperventilating and damn near going into convultions. Finally I managed to get a little control of myself, in large part to Mrs. Murray's soothing voice and her rubbing my back.
"It's all right Adam," Mrs. Murray said, even though it sounded like she was crying too. "It was nothing you did or thought that caused what happened. It just happened."
"Really?" I asked sniffling.
