[Image by AnnaliseArt via Pixabay] 
There’s an old song from the Smokies about losing a girl for proceeding with too much trepidation. When you finish the first half of this story, you’ll know why I wanted a wristwatch so young. When you finish the second half, you’ll know why I learned to confront issues in a timely fashion.
I bought my first watch in seventh grade while living in Turtletown, Tennessee; but, let’s back up a little. When I was about nine, I had a horrible experience caused by my dad running particularly late to take me to a dance. Our community in Unaka, North Carolina had opened a little activity center to host gatherings and activities. One of the first activities they brought in was a square dance training session every Friday night. I was skeptical, but went along to see if it would be fun. I quickly found out that to square dance, you needed a partner, and it would be a girl! Better yet, the girl I had a crush on at school was there and I could hold hands with her as part of the activity!! This went swimmingly for several weeks until one night when my dad ran oh so very – very late getting home. I lost my dance partner for arriving to the lessons late. I was emotionally beaten and decided then and there I would never become the guy who was always late. When I grew up, I would be mister on time, the time master, the “watch” man.
At nine, I was still subject to the whims and capriciousness of adults. When I hit twelve, I was freer to roam, had bikes and motorcycles and trails at my disposal and was able to walk a lot further than at nine. When you get to be twelve, you find that people will give you more opportunities for odd jobs to make money too. So, when I earned a little money, I decided to buy a watch. I had little idea how well that would go over at school with a few of the girls I liked.
We were a few weeks into the school year, when I bought the watch. So, I showed up at Turtletown elementary (7th grade) the next day for a new morning of excitement. I was proud to show off my new watch to my friends when I found out that a very, very pretty girl wanted to wear my watch. “Wow” I thought. “That wasn’t the plan, but… wow…” My mind continued to whirl, I told myself, “come on man, a really, really cute girl in the class has made it clear she wants to wear the watch. She’s going to get to wear the watch!” And so she did, for several weeks. This relationship may have exceeded (by a week or so) most of my “going out” connections at that age…usually two or three weeks at most.
It turns out that the connection with this particular girl got harmed more by two third parties than my own actions, but it was time for a lesson for Tim. I mean really, we can’t control the actions of third parties, but we can control our responses to them.
Our homeroom teacher that year would use her allergies as an excuse to smoke in the teachers’ lounge and would leave us to sit during recess a lot. We were supposed to sit quietly in our seats for forty-five minutes without talking. She asked me to be the class monitor that day (my first and only time to have that duty, thankfully) and while she was out, two boys decided to… be boys. They started letting gas loudly and wiggling their butts in the direction of a few nearby girls and giggling about it. The girl with my watch was in the group of girls being targeted. She did not appreciate their foolishness (not at all).
Now, let me be clear. If I had thought any of the girls were being physically bullied or threatened, I would have intervened – Immediately. At twelve though, I knew I’d get us all in trouble if I overreacted to the boys goofing off. From my seat in the far back of the class, all I could see was them wiggling and squirming in their chairs. Since they were still sitting in their chairs, it didn’t give me a fair chance to get up to counter them. So, I watched… and did nothing. Apparently, Vickie, the girl with the watch, was a particular target of the numbskulls… ok — boys — and she expected more of an intervention from me. I failed her.
The teacher eventually showed up and one of the girls tattled. The teacher looked at me and said, “You weren’t going to say anything to me about it were you”?
“No,” I replied. I wasn’t a snitch and I wasn’t going to start. But, I could have said something to the two guys and my failure to do so taught me a lesson about confronting problems. It was not fear that stopped me, I just didn’t know what to do with two boys being dumb (I should have called them out – loudly and clearly).
Later that day, Vickie sent my watch back to me by another classmate. I knew she was disappointed. I just wasn’t mature enough yet to know how to fix things. I would think about it often that year and try to figure out what to say to amend things. At twelve, I just hadn’t quite learned how to open dialogue on a failure. I was ashamed.
Later that month, I even asked my parents to take me to Vickie’s church on a Sunday morning (I can’t remember why ours was not active that Sunday… something odd had happened). I just saw an opening and took it. When we got to the church and I saw her, I didn’t know how to start the conversation. She looked away each time she saw me. I just didn’t have enough life experience yet to walk over and say, “We need to talk.”
Strangely, when I hit college I became more comfortable with correcting things that went wrong. There’s no way it could be because I was getting in jams of my own making; thus, giving myself opportunities to fix things… right? However I came to it, I learned how to talk to girls over the next few years and confronting difficult topics in conversation became a strength. The loss of connection with my friend in Turtletown drove me to be a better person. I didn’t want another friendship lost over a failure to address hurt and disappointment.
The moral of this story? Watch over your friendships carefully. There’s never a better time to mend a fence than now.
[If you enjoyed this story – First, let me say THANK YOU – then, please signup for the free newsletter on the homepage or via the occasional popup invites.] Need some outdoors, wildlife or motocross inspired t-shirts or sweatshirts? Feel free to browse and shop my gifts page at Redbubble!
Why not read the first story in this series? Tales from Turtletown #1: The Crazy Creek