1971 (4^th Grade)

I know that some of my stories need to present the seedier side of life and expose me for the child I was and this is one such story. 

As more and more family vacations were spent in Mexico my parents themed their dinner parties and gatherings with a Mexican flair.  That meant the food was Mexican, the drinks were Mexican and the music, well, it remained the same.  You could never get enough of The Carpenters, The Kingston Trio or Herb Albert back then.

My mother spent days preparing the food for each of these gatherings.  The food was authentic to its very core and that meant the house would smell of deep fat fried food for days after the party.  As my mom was putting the finishing touches on the evening’s fare, my father made what seemed like gallons of Margaritas.  I had grown to like these drinks from the many “sips” my father permitted me to have, and I was determined to have more.  When my father was not looking I took the many aluminum film canisters I had collected and filled each one up with this tasty beverage.  By the time I was finished I had a dozen or so of the canisters filled and stashed away in my backpack.

The next day, with a pack full of Margaritas, I headed off to school.  At the time the forth grade was still in the “Old Red Brick Building” on East Hallam Street between North Garmisch Street and North Monarch Street.  Back then it was still known as the Middle School and later referred to as “the Upper Elementary School.”  During a break between classes a couple of friends met me in the hall and I happily shared my bounty with them.

Now, I have not always made the right choices when given a chance and this was one of those times.  Not because I brought Margaritas to school, I was OK with that.   The mistake was made when my older sister, Debbie, came by and asked me what we were drinking.  Without hesitation I told her exactly what was in the canisters.  That was the mistake.

Don’t get me wrong, I love my sister very much; but, what she did next was not cool!  After seeing the expression on her face I expected to incur the wrath of my father when I got home, but instead, she headed directly to the principal’s office.  I was doomed!  In a matter of minutes the principal was doling out my punishment.

I enjoyed the rest of the week off from school and had a lot of time to clean my room, mow the lawn, wash dishes and fold laundry.  Being grounded had its upside as all the projects you had never finished finally got done; and, with time off for good behavior life slowly returned to normal.