High Water — 1965
The year 1965 brought a formidable challenge into the lives of myself and my older sister, Linda. My father decided to move his dental practice from Reno to American Fork, Utah. I was in the 7th grade and Linda was a sophomore in high school. We moved early in January of 1965 and Linda and I started at our new schools shortly thereafter. In my case, the only classes which had room for a transfer student were remedial classes. I found myself in classes with hoods and flunkies who were very much uninterested in school or learning. As a “new kid” from out-of-town, I became the brunt of several unkind jokes and pranks. I was anxious to make new friends, but was unsuccessful in my attempts. The boys in my neighborhood were slow to accept a newcomer. In short, I was a very miserable soul. Eventually I found a group of boys who seemed willing to befriend me. They seemed rough and crude, but I was desperate for any friends. I talked my mom into buying me the type of clothes these boys were wearing, namely polka-dot shirts, corduroy pants, and beta boots. I was “permitted” to hang around with these new “friends” and I soon discovered that their lunch-hour activity involved finding small and weak students and “high-watering” them. This humiliating prank involved getting the boy down on the ground and pulling up on his underwear from both front and back, as hard as possible. For two consecutive lunch hours I tagged along while the group high-watered some unfortunate boys. On the third day I found out why they had “befriended” me. I became their next high-watering victim. After knocking me to the ground, one boy grabbed the front of my underwear and another the back, and they dragged me several yards by my underwear. They left laughing and enjoying my agony, and I laid on the ground for a long time afterwards. I was humiliated and my ego was badly bruised, but more than anything I was disgusted that my desire for friends had driven me to lower my standards, to behave in ways contrary to my upbringing and feelings. I remember thinking that no friends would be much better than those friends. In some ways I am grateful for that experience because of the very valuable lessons I learned, primarily that the lowering of one’s standards inevitably brings sorrow and pain. My subsequent patience eventually paid off and I was blessed with some quality friends with high ideals that exerted a wonderful influence on my life. These friends included Bruce Storrs, Dennis Gauger, and Scott Turner.
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