That’s how Henry Hill explained how the downside was worth the perks of being a mobster in GoodFellas! My first real beating was for a less dramatic reason.
In February of 1960 my family moved from Chicago to Los Angeles. We lived on the corner of Sierra Bonita and Venice Boulevard and I enrolled in the 4th grade at Burnside Avenue Elementary. In those days we had after school activities and I stayed for the baseball games. Since I was never picked for a team I ended up as an umpire and in this particular game was at first base.
Long story short I made a terrible call giving the final out to the winning team; the losing team was not happy. As I endured threats I went to the coach for support and he reiterated it was a terrible call. When I asked why he didn’t overrule me he said “that’s not how it works.” On my way home I was visited by 4 members of the losing team; mostly 6th graders. Due in part to my unique fighting style, laying on the sidewalk crumpled into a ball begging for my life, my only visible scar was a slight shiner under my left eye and several body bruises, all hidden under my clothes.
Rather ironic being born on the south side of Chicago, Bad, Bad Leroy Brown territory, and never taking a real beating until we moved to the glitter and sunshine of Los Angeles, California. But I did learn three valuable lessons:
- Elementary school Omerta. I kept my mouth shut and was left alone.
- Being an umpire is not for the faint of heart…or me.
- The pain of a beating is more mental than physical.
- Forgiveness is the key to happiness.
I wish I could meet with those four boys now and tell them I forgive them. Tell them I moved on while I tie them up and cover them with honey and an army of Fire Ants.
As I said, I only learned three valuable lessons. I am still working on #4.