When I was in second grade, I went to a school that had three recess periods per day -- morning, lunch, and afternoon. My best friend Tom and I spent a lot of time on the playground there.

They had the usual schoolyard configurations, the monkeybars, swings, slides, etc. All on blacktop, kids being tougher back then, parents presumably being less litigious.

There was a long, black strip of dark material on the ground in one corner of the playground. About a foot and a half wide, it stretched about a hundred feet in one direction before making an abrupt 90-degree angle to the right, to the edge of the school property.

Tom and I started a rumor that this long, black strip -- which we called the "Hot Line" -- was extremely dangerous. If you stepped on it, you would be burned to a crisp in one second. Such a thing would never be allowed on playgrounds today.

We spent several years leaping over the thing on a daily basis, to prove how brave we were. Not that anyone ever noticed.

One day, Tom pointed out to me that someone had written the F-word on a large, red, metal garbage can which stood near the entrance to the school. At seven years old, I had no idea what it meant, but Tom assured me that it was a bad word.

He then suggested that, at the next recess, he and I should go stand in front of the can so that Mr. K, a teacher who usually served as the playground monitor, wouldn't see it. For some reason, this made perfect sense to me at the time, so this is what we did.

In retrospect, I have to wonder what the point of it was. I don't know how long the F-word had been on the can; Mr. K would probably not have been terminally shocked to see it; and, had he noticed two boys making a concerted attempt to hide the evidence, he might well assume we had been the ones to put it there in the first place.

The next day, the can was gone. It had been replaced by a shiny blue one, which remained wordless for the rest of my time at the school.

Still, when I see that word in a public place today, I have to fight the urge to go stand in front of it.

:) isnt it amazing how one small action can make a lasting impression on us for the rest of our lives. Nice write Lex. :)

This is GREAT, Lex!!! Thank you for the smile

I liked this heart warming write,Lex..

I WISH, your innocents was also mine at that age.

I think every BAD thing we witness very young.

Changes us then,,and as we go on.

Different ways for all of us,,but IT,,makes deep impressions.

As you stood to block the teachers view.

I stood up for kids being picked on or laughed at..

Because,,I COULD,,and I knew how THAT HURT,,
so THAT enabled ME,,to not let THEM,,feel that pain..
And I STILL Carry that sense of protection,,even on here for others

Life's complexing,,huh?,,,

I don't even know why this suddenly came back to me....and it was so long ago, but it doesn't really SEEM all that long....in so many ways....

I enjoyed reading that,((((SexyLexy))))
As I was reading,my thoughts begin to wander..it is funny, how one small action,can be remembered. I can relate.
Life does come full circle, it seems.

I remember so much from that time -- most of it isn't particularly interesting, but the whole process of getting from "there" to "here" seems like it could have been arranged so much more sensibly....!