LIFE ... LUST ... LOVE

THE SHATTERING OF HEARTSBy Stephen Paul Tolmie

AuthorHouse

Copyright © 2011 Stephen Paul Tolmie
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4634-4699-4

Chapter One

When I was a young man at the age of six, I met someone very special. Miss Mills was my grade one teacher, a tall lady with long, shapely legs that accented her lovely frame. She had flowing brunette hair that surrounded her angelic face. Yes, my first impression of this lady was that I had been introduced to a goddess. It was her first year of teaching, having just graduated from teacher's college, and I was in her first group of students. Her challenge was to teach and make our little minds start to grasp the realities of the world and life's paths. It was her duty ... yes, her occupation to have us search for knowledge, awareness, aspirations, and life's goals to obtain the passing report card. It would show that she had succeeded in passing on her knowledge and that her skills were indeed intact.

Unfortunately, as it turned out, this was not to be the case for either of us. I had no desire to concentrate on the studies at hand, but rather to dream childish thoughts of this lady, and just get caught up in the fantasy world of make believe.

My whole day was spent trying to have her spend special time with me; to have me as that one and only student, who was so demanding of her time. To this end I did succeed; but alas, this should not have been my goal. I would bring her apples, treats and roadside flowers ... anything that would let me stand next to her, and drown myself in her presence. I would seek to walk her home, because I thought I was her knight in shining armour and she was my princess, to be protected from all outside factors.

As the year proceeded, this practice continued, and my educational accomplishments declined. It was a disastrous year for me to say the least and in some respects for her as well. My first year of school had been lost and my academic scores were far below acceptable; a repeat was indeed in order.

My "princess" a.k.a. teacher, was in tears as well. How had she not been able to reach this student? Was it her teaching skills? No as she thought, it was only this one pupil. She must have done something right, if all other students were to graduate to the next grade.

She realized that, due to her immaturity, she had not nipped this young lad's fantasy in the bud and pushed him to take a "hard-nosed" approach to the education process at hand.

In all honesty, it probably stemmed from the fact that this was her first teaching job and from the nervousness that accompanied her in trying to do the best possible job with a room full of young minds.

This lady did indeed go out of her way to let my parents know how sorry she was that she had not been able to reach me; to give me the drive to strive for that brass ring ... better known as a passing grade in the further pursuit of educational knowledge.

On the other hand, I held no feelings of sorrow for the failure to pass on to another grade, but relished the thought of another year with this special lady.

Fate held a different approach for me, as she was transferred to a different school to teach, most likely at her request. For me, this was my first awareness that life was not always fair.

The new teacher for the following year was a young male teacher, and hence my learning skills were finally able kick in and a teacher fantasy was but a fleeting thought.

I continued throughout the elementary system, not being touched by flights of fancy, but rather enjoyed a steady climb upwards through the educational process. I returned to that young lad, doing childish things, but more reflective of my age. Life seemed simpler now, and I was content.

It was not until I had reached the eighth grade that I began seeing young ladies as something of interest and as a time to put aside my childish ways. The new problem now faced me. How did I approach the opposite sex? I was naive in the way about connecting to these girls, as most young boys are totally out of their element in these circumstances.

It was probably normal; but I was fumbling in my speech. Subjects of conversation of interest to them were totally unknown to me. How does one go about breaking the ice? Here I think I was like most boys of that age. I would watch them skip rope, play basketball, baseball, ride my bike around them in circles, and even sneak up behind them and scare them ... anything to seek attention, and be in closer proximity to them.

I was in a school system, which at that time period, (the l950's) the girls went in one doorway and the boys the other, never to be in close quarters with one another.

I always asked myself in later years if this was a throw-back to the Victorian era, and it probably was, since there seemed no other logical reason for this occurrence.

In that time period also, the school buildings were usually three to four stories in height, and therefore a fire escape chute was a mandatory piece of equipment that had to be attached to the building.

The children (one boy and one girl chosen at random) from grade eight were given potato sacks to go down the fire escape first, both to clean and then to open the doorways at the bottom. Having done this practice several times before, as it seemed to be almost a weekly occurrence, I could never figure out how the girls got to come out on one side and the boys on the other. I decided that I would take this curiosity of mine, to try and discover the answer.

On my way down the chute on the cleaning mission, I took it slowly, and felt the walls all the way down. I had always been instructed to lean to the right when going down, and discovered quickly, that half way down, there was a split in the chute, one to the left and one to the right; hence the two doorways. I had yelled up that I had completed the trip down the fire escape, and to send the rest of the pupils down. I also had walked back up the fire chute to the point of separation in the chute.

I leaned over to the girl's side and opened my legs for them to go through. You cannot imagine the blood curling screams that came out of the mouths of these young ladies. I did indeed make an impression on these girls (mission accomplished) and a strapping from the principal followed. I had sore hands, but now the girls looked at me some times oddly; but at least they were looking, and the ice had been broken.

The girl I had hoped to impress was indeed interested in this character, so my practical joke was not for nothing. I was still lost for words while in Vicki's company, but for some reason, talking on the phone to her, could often go on for several minutes every night. Both the parents seemed to go along with this practice, (this childish love if you will) and it continued to the end of the school term. I was not too bright as to think to go to Vicki's home, only a few blocks away, or to ask her to go bike riding, or for a walk. In hindsight, I wish I was not so shy, or had the wherewithal to take the first step to make a connection with my real first love.

Fate again would raise its ugly head, and on graduation from public school to high school, Vicki chose one and I chose another school to go to.

From that time on to the very present, I regret that I had not been more vigilant in my quest, as she was lost to me forever.

The high school years here were also un-eventful. I would walk down the hallways trying to be friendly with the girls passing by. I would attend a noon hour dance,...