1 9 8 8

 .24 cents – US postage stamp*

$3.50 Movie ticket

.65 cents – Dozen Eggs

$1.89 – Gallon of 2% milk

5-7, 6-2, 6-1 Steffi Graf defeated Martina Navratilova at Wimbledon

Federal Debt $2601.3 Billion

2,016 pounds - World’s biggest ever recorded turtle washed up on Harlech Beach, Wales, 100 years old, 9 feet long

Crack – Not just something in a sidewalk but a new drug found increasingly in US cities (derivative of Cocaine)

4 of the top ten songs

Faith - George Michael

So Emotional – Whitney Houston

Got My Mind Set On You– George Harrison

The Way You Make Me Feel – Michael Jackson

Top 40 Hip Hop

It Takes Two To Make A Thing Go Right - Rob Base & DJ EZ Rock

 Quote of the year:  “Just Do It”, Nike.

“Designated Driver” – Harvard Medical School partnered with film and TV studios to insert the concept into popular consciousness.

Morris worm – first computer worms distributed via the Internet.

Rihanna and Adele born.

4.378 billion people in the world.

NAFTA agreement reached between US and Canada.

Winning Colors wins the Kentucky Derby.

Naguib Mahfouz wins the Nobel Prize for Literature.

RU486 (mifepristone) is permitted by France and China (“morning-after” birth control drug).

NASA scientist James Hansen warns Congress of the dangers of global warming and the greenhouse effect. **

Cambria Heights, New York

10th grade

Teenage Rutting Season

Benjamin Cardozo High School, Bayside

I sat at one end of the dining room table and he sat at the other under the window of a Queens New York, Cambria Heights Colonial house framing the remainder of the carpeted green grass 40x 100 lot that the house occupied.  The autumn sun and fall clouds were both non-committal, while trees lost their clothes as leaves blushed.

My best friend, I call him my older brother, and I had just completed an intense carpeted game of nerf basketball.  It was full of wicked “Hard A Way” crossovers, where you had to hurl the ball onto the carpeted floor so that you would have enough bounce to execute a shoulder head shimmy left right stutter step to end it with a primordial scream and a windmill slam dunk, soaring above a 3 foot rim for children.   We caught our breaths and after 6 more ticks on the Awkward Silence Shot Clock, the time out ended and Mark said with a serious and concerned tone:  “What’s up, bro?”

“Nuthin,” I replied.

“Nuthin?”  He shook his head.    “Noth-ING” he accentuated the last part of the syllable.  “Usually you have so much to say.”  He kept shaking his head wondering what happened to the person before him and what alien life form left a stranger in his place.   Deep down it was comforting to know that my big bro could see something wasn’t right with me.  However, how could I put it, the big IT, the following words below at age 14?  I was so...so emotional.

Queens, New York, Rut Season:  Beginning at the start of the High School year, mid fall and peaking in the following spring young males and females return from summer rest and relaxation to receive education from members of the older species.  These sub adults clothe themselves with various colors, shapes, garments, feathers, fur and plumage that at times accentuate their form or noticeable features of their body including eyes, ears, nose and hair.   The males of the species can be observed walking with an accentuated limp or woggle.  In groups males may speak more loudly flexing their fluctuating voice.  If a female walks by a group of these rutting teenagers, they may loudly call out to her commenting about her to outdo the next male.  However, when meeting a female on a one-to-one basis, they will on most occasions speak softly and gently using lyrical language by making grown-up man promises.   Cultural differences may range greatly within the species but the principles of the rutting season are the same to get attention from the other.  During winter months aggression drops and each species wears thicker plumage.   When spring returns, the rutting season spikes as both species shed their furs and the sun bronzes the skin.   Many fights occur among males during this time period.

Population:  Jewish, Italian, Spanish, Black, White, Asian.

Fashion

Glasses:  Swallowed my face with binocular lenses so strong I could see into my non-cool future.

Shirt:  I wore a plaid button down shirt buttoned up to the neck.  Isn’t that the way they were designed and supposed to be worn?  (Hipster movement had not arisen yet)

Jeans:  Burgundy Lee high waters.  Nothing more to say.  (2.5 seasons behind)

Sneakers:  Dullish, Navy Blue Kangaroos with the Velcro strap that wore out so that they curled upward like a Frito lay corn chip.

Walk:  No swagger and unsure mixed with a too friendly-like puppy wagging his tail with too big paws, long legs, eyes scanning every passerby for a happy connection.

Lunchroom Cool Metric: -5

The brothers…sat on the wall.  The basketball team (mostly black) usually sat at their own table with blue and orange Dozo jackets.  Selected cool “white boys” who were “down” with both camps mingled in and out.

Asian table: I didn’t fit.

Preppy Boys: Polo Shirt collars up and first two buttons unbuttoned.  Jean cuffs neatly rolled up by about 1-2 inches.

My Haircut:  Monthly, one no shape length just fitting the shape of my big long head and wisdom hook.

Mixed bag of people table:  Random nerds and social groups that didn’t have a representative nation.  Vietnamese, Indian, Pakistan and other cultural groups.  At times I found a place there.  

Puberty hit me like an uppercut from Nintendo’s Mike Tyson Punch Out, complete with the electronic booo-aaaa sound. There was no gradual succession, progression, or session – Egg to Tadpole to Frog.  Pupa- Caterpillar-Cocoon- Butterfly.  Where was the cocoon?   Home was safe. But then outside.  There was no discretion, possession and obsession, depression and expression.  There were embarrassingly obvious cracking voice changeovers, growth spurts.  I tried in vain to pull the cuffs of my burgundy high waters down to cover my white sport socks with the double stripes that my dad bought me two seasons too late, but I failed to realize it was the design and not my height.  Ruptures and fissures started appearing on my oily face.   One active mushroom would always sprout on my nose right below my thick non-descript glasses.  It had its own mind and personality and would introduce itself to everyone before I could say a word.   I was Mario of Mario Brothers and the big mushroom that I was supposed to squash to get bonus points jumped on my face and settled there waiting to be popped and leave a crater of a black hole that would tell the story for a millennium.   Peers would not make eye contact because Mushroom did all the talking.  It was The Subject, The Object, and The Predicate.

One day I realized that lovely heavenly creatures walked on earth clothed in other worldly garments that pushed out hills, mountains, valleys, and plains in pleasing places.   I wanted to escort these celestial mortals to their class, ensure their safe passage and listen to their magical language, elixir laugh, and bask in the warmth of their soft gaze and soak their nearness and absorb the presence.   I wanted attention from these gorgeous angels, acceptance from the dueling rutting males, a space and a place and comfort in my own constantly growing skin.

Fading back to Queens I tried to speak but my mouth was blank.   I started and stammered bumbling nonsensical: “You know…”  “I…” Mark looked at my struggle and with insight beyond 19 years said:  “Chris.  When you talk about the monster you bring it down to size.” 

My pupils widened as I felt the wave of understanding wash over me.  I sensed the strength of the camaraderie of an empathetic peer who tried to understand the confusion and had walked the road ahead.  I felt the power and clarity of simple logic and how to execute it.

The silent spell broke:  “What did you say?”  I heard myself mutter as my voice attempted to catch the repeated brain ripples washing over both the conscious and the unconscious. 

He replied slowly: “When you talk about the monster you bring it down to size.”

“Who told you that?” I inquired, semi-shocked at such clear, ancient, Suessical wisdom.

Mark said:  “My mom told me every time I had a nightmare.  She would say ‘Honey…Talk About The Monster…’*

I thought:  “Maaaaaan!!!! That would be an awesome children’s book and song.”

2 0 1 6  -  I finally sat down and wrote out the whole rhyme and song. Book Trailer:  Talk About The Monster

2 0 1 9 -    Talk About The Monster is available now on Amazon,  Barnes and Noble and The BookMark Shop in Bay Ridge Brooklyn. 

2 0 2 0 - “Talk About The Monster” Sing Along Song released on ITUNES, Spotify, Amazon and wherever you stream music.  https://music.apple.com/us/album/talk-about-the-monster-single/1509679835

 

* http://www.thepeoplehistory.com/1988.html

** https://popculturemadness.com/PCM/1988/1988-fun-facts-trivia-and-history/