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Friday, February 10, 2006

That Scar...

This time when he swung the bat
And I found myself laying flat
I wondered
What a way to spend a dime
What a way to use the time
Ain't it baby?

Throughout my life I have had short hair for about 75% of my life. I’ve never liked the idea of combing my hair and putting all the crap in it so I just had a buzz cut for as long as my Mom would let me. One question that people always ask me is about the scar on my head. I have a small scar on my head where no hair grows at all. It’s noticeable but nothing worth pointing at and nothing ugly at all.

Person X: How’d you get that scar on your head?
Boof: uh, I really don’t know.

It’s not the satisfying answer one would want. It seems that someone should just make up an answer when it comes to a semi-noticeable scar on their head. I ca

The thing is, I have no idea where it came from. I’ve always had the scar and I have never been able to answer that question. I’ve always asked my parents about the scar and asking them is worse than talking to a wall (at least a wall wont respond with another question).

Not to mention I know how it would go with my mom.

Boof: Hey Mom, how did I get this scar on my head? Did you drop me when I was a baby?
Mom: pff more like you dropped yourself.
Boof: What does that mean?
Mom: I told you already. You just don’t like my answer

The blood boils just thinking about that conversation.

I do have a couple ideas though.

1. The cigarette butt
I have heard a story that my dad stopped smoking when he accidentally dropped a cigarette butt down my back when I was a baby. It wouldn’t surprise me--knowing my family--that he secretly smoked one up and dropped one on my head and THEN vowed to himself to not smoke another one.
It doesn’t seem plausible if it was my dad, but it could be the case.

2. Playing oscar the grouch
One of my favorite stories is when me and my bro were very young playing in the driveway. We were big fans of Sesame Street and we noticed the empty garbage can nearby. Apparently I climbed in the garbage can and started acting like Oscar and my bro was playing along. It was all fun until my bro found a rock from our retaining wall and decided to drop it on my head. My mom heard the crying and yelling and found me in the garbage can crying like crazy. (reality check: if you should ever find your child crying inside a garbage can, don’t tell anyone. It may be acceptable in, say…Haiti but not in a developed country.)

So that could very well be the creation of this scar.

3. Playing on the playground
My grandparents were celebrating their 45 wedding anniversary and we had a short get-together at a park in Rochester. I was playing on the playground jumping around, yelling, and throwing sand with my brother. I remember jumping off a platform right under the metal slide. When I jumped, I hit my head on the bottom of the slide and my head started bleeding. I went crying to my family and eventually things were alright. If one should ever see the family picture from my grandparents 45th wedding anniversary, that is indeed me smiling with blood trickling down my temple. Awww

I’m not convinced on any one particular story because two I don’t remember and the last one seems to have happened after the scar but I can’t remember.

I also have false hopes that my parents were telling the truth on how they have no idea where my scar came from. I’m sure my mom was shredding cheese on the side of the counter when I walked by or something and she has been too embarrassed to say anything because what would she say?

Mom: I do have a confession to make to you. That scar on your head is because I was shredding cheese too close to the edge of the counter. You walked by and I clipped you.
Boof: you….CLIPPED ME?!?! WEREN’T YOU WAT………

And a half hour later I’d be finally storming out of the house with a red face and a pocket full of venison.

Have a good weekend everyone.

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