(Rockwall) October 24, 2013 – Gene looked like a Halloween costume, and when he stole that jack-o-lantern off some folk’s porch, they just stared; didn’t blink an eye. The gag must’ve seemed like part of his getup, like it made sense for someone so odd to run down the street with a flaming pumpkin.
I met Gene in fifth grade. Like something from a toymaker’s shop or a cartoonist’s board, he caught the eye. You couldn’t help staring; those long, bony legs three times the size of his body, and arms half of that so he barely had to bend to tie his shoes. A sweet pea head wrapped with goggly-eyed, Coke bottle glasses topped his stump of a torso, and on that little noggin was a hay-strewn field of hair.
But it was Gene’s knees that stood out more than anything; they bent backwards. No joke, backwards, like a natural hyperextension. A disc jockey almost lost his lunch on a public radio gig when he called for, “Best Human Tricks,” and Gene waltzed right up and threw back his knees. Winner: Gene.
Gene never complained or tattled when bullied, he was too busy excelling. Call it the “Midas touch,” luck, or whatever you want, but every deer season, we’d come back empty handed from our manhood “rite” and Gene would’ve bagged four by Christmas. He’d sleep in a chair on the ground and deer would just walk right up (curious about him?) Later, he toyed with bow hunting, splitting arrows like Robin Hood, downing flying birds or swimming fish with each shot. Fortunately, whatever he killed or trapped, his mom fried up and sent to school and he’d divvy out the extras.
So it shouldn’t have shocked us that Halloween night while we teens drove around scaring kids and smashing pumpkins that Gene stole that jack-o-lantern (we were quite mischievous). It was huge; perfectly round with eyes and jagged smile cut so big that it nearly needed two candles—a perfect mailbox topper. But the shades were up, and the entire family squatted around the TV. An impossible Halloween trick that had Gene undeterred. We dropped him at the corner and coasted up ahead while he strided down the sidewalk, looking like a clown on stilts. Turning up the walkway, the dad met him at the door, offering candy. Gene smiled and snatched the pumpkin and bounded, covering six feet with every step. We coasted, cheering the bobbling, smiling jack-o-lantern on as he giggled in the dark, diving in while we puttered away.
Now, I don’t endorse pumpkin pilfery in any way, but I’ve learned a little lesson from this Halloween yarn. People dress up, making themselves more than meets the eye. Gene, however, was different; he needed no mask, he was naturally more. He didn’t need a costume. As easy as it was to gawk at that odd looking boy, it was equally easy to spot his uniqueness, and our unique friendship impacted my childhood and adolescence, a real “treat” amidst the “tricks.”
By Blue Ribbon News special contributor Scott Gill of Rockwall. Scott is a teacher, coach and author of Goliath Catfish. Follow his blog at scotttgill.tumblr.com. Follow him on Twitter @scottgill5.
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