FRECKELO

Like super hero’s, we all have an arch nemesis or arch rival which offer us the mirror into our souls and determine the human being we will be. Superman had Lex Luther, Batman had several but the Joker was the best and I had Freckelo.

Freckelo lived on 24th Avenue in a duplex which was directly en-route to our school. I never did learn his real name but suffice it to say that it was unimportant to the story. He was probably a year or two my senior, had carrot red hair and, as his name suggests, was one of those kids covered in freckles. I don’t know what made him so miserable but clearly someone beat him with a nasty stick early on. I had encountered him early on in my first year of elementary school when we were all called upon to make our own way to school. It didn’t matter that you had brothers and sisters because they wouldn’t be caught dead walking with you nor you with them for that matter.

The bullying began simply enough with the typical shove or blocked path but escalated at a fairly rapid pace to a point where Gregory Clark and I would try alternate routes, running, mingling or anything else to try and avoid the advances of this maniac and his clan of crazed cohorts but in many cases to no avail. He and his gang must have attended night school at the age of eight because they never seemed pressed to go anywhere or be afraid of anyone.

This bullying went on for several years and the gang seemed to get bigger and meaner with each passing month and year. Finally, Greg ended up being caught by them one day when I was left at home suffering from some childhood illness. I guess the fact that we always traveled together must have been a deterrent to their more diabolical violence because on this occasion they pulled the lid off a manhole and threw Greg down breaking his leg. I received a call from Gregory’s mother informing me that he wouldn’t be going to school for a few days and could I bring home his homework. The news sickened me and it was at that moment that the early designs of revenge began to hatch.

The following Saturday morning I woke early (my parents were still in bed and my dad used to wake the roosters so it must have been very early) and got dressed quickly and headed over towards 24th Avenue. I don’t know what gave me the courage because I was completely alone but I remember being quite certain that Freckelo would be too. I hung around his house waiting for him to show his spotted face and soon enough he did. I walked up to him and in my best sign language (Freckelo didn’t speak English) made signs that I wanted to be friends. He seemed taken aback by my audacity and amenable to the come on.

I invited him back to my apartment building on the premise that we would could get a couple of gloves and ball and play catch. Now we lived on the 3rd floor in a 3 bedroom apartment. The building was typical of those built back in the 50’s and had a gap between the window which ran the height of the building providing light to the stair well and each of the half landings leading to the summit. This gap was approximately two feet deep and so one could look down from the top floor all the way to the first floor with an unobstructed view of the front door of the building. In typical kids fashion we often would climb the space rather than use the stairs and while it seemed dangerous to the onlooker it was completely deadly to the novice unless one paid close attention to the path of sure footedness. I quickly hoisted myself up the gap and began to scale the path upwards with the skill of a Himalayan chirpa scaling Everest. Freckelo being my senior could do nothing else but follow my lead and scale the gap. Each half landing had a rail which allowed one to peer down to the level below. It also offered the staging for the next level just like in Super Mario. I was quickly beyond the first floor, onto the second and lifting up to the third and could see down and with each move Freckelo became more apprehensive but determined to keep up with the runt.

I reached the top floor and hoisted myself over the rail and looked back down just in time to see Freckelo beginning his climb from the second to third floor. He was very apprehensive and slowed by the strain of the unpracticed hand. He scaled up to the half landing and grabbed the rail as his feet slid off the ledge of the window so he was slightly swinging in mid air holding on for dear life to the lower rail mount. He began to scream and clearly feared for his life as well he should. Time slowed to a crawl as I looked down on him and he tried to see me through the outstretched arms as his swing arced back towards the window frame. He was unable to swing his feet back and his grip was desperate and straining. I waited for that moment where our eyes could make contact and when it did he knew exactly what I was thinking. The fear was obvious and heartfelt. He probably could sympathize with Greg right at that moment.

I finally ran to the apartment and called to my dad to come right away ‘cause Freckelo would fall. The beat of my fathers’ footsteps on the floor could be heard all over the building as he donned his pants and ran to the noise which was now reverberating throughout the early morning quiet. He reached over the rail and grabbed the kid by the scruff of his neck and began to shake him like a wet rag. The tears were flying everywhere as the Freckelo went from bully to sissy in a heartbeat. Once the tirade slowed my dad put him down and yelled that he better not come back again lifting his foot to give him a swift kick just to accentuate the notion.

My dad looked at me and knew deep down that I was absolutely involved and showed little remorse for the near catastrophic incident. He asked me who the kid was and I told him I thought he might live over on 24th Avenue because I’d seen him from time to time on my way to school.My dad for whatever reason probably thought it was prudent to leave the questioning and we never spoke of it again.

Freckelo never did bully us again and in fact he often turned and walked the other way when we passed his house. It’s funny because I never did feel all that good about what happened but was satisfied with the result.