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Nutshell Kingdom: Here Comes Trouble!
2007
I'm in second or third grade, second probably, I think, and there's this kid in my class - I don't remember his name so we'll call him Robbie, which may very well be his name since it sounds right and came to me in my despair of forgetfulness the way Trigger used to come whenever the Lone Ranger would find himself in a jam, like being tied up in the old miner's shack while the dynamite fuse burned slowly away -zzzzz- and here comes Trigger, out of nowhere, gnawing the ropes that bind and carrying the Masked Man away from certain doom - and this kid (Robbie) is, I think, about my height and size, with short, thin blond hair and tan skin. I can't be sure of this at all.
I don't really remember Robbie. Why would I? Who the hell is he? Why do I almost rememeber him? There are pictures in my head, but they are more like dreams than memories. I have had dreams from that age that I remember with more clarity. Yet, this is what I think:
We were not close. He was my friend-for-a-day at the field trip to Dorton Arena to see the Ringling Brothers and Barnum & Bailey Circus. Robbie sat next to me that day. We were pals, great friends, on that day and that day only. We shared a program, looked up the names and histories of the various clowns, marveled at photos of Gunther Gable Williams (lion tamer), and dipped our hands into same popcorn. Most likely, we shared a sleepy seat on the bus ride back to school where our parents waited by their cars in the cold and early dark of a February evening.
Is any of this true? I think so, but I cannot swear by it.
What I do remember with absolute conviction is this: there was a boy in my second or third grade class who regularly wore a T-shirt that I coveted. The shirt was pale yellow and had some sort of design on the front with bubble-letters that read: "Here Comes Trouble." That shirt had a power over me. It was as if the wearer of that shirt was instantly transformed into someone who was "trouble," and truth be known, "trouble" was all I ever wanted to be as a boy. In reality, I was well-behaved and bookish. In my mind, that t-shirt was my key through a doorway that led to someplace other than myself. That is a memorable thing to imagine.
I believe the boy who wore that shirt was named Robbie and I think we once sat next to each other at the circus. But who knows?
