Worries 1962

PE.  Gym.  Physical Education.  They had mandatory

nude showering.  I was worried, never having

been nude in front of anyone since the age of 5

and that was uncomfortable, memorably uncomfortable.

Would the other boys laugh at me?  Would they have hair

down there?  Would they describe my penis to girls?

“He’s got a  teeny-weeny peenie.”  Would I be the only

one with skid marks on his tighty whities?

The mysteries of puberty

were frightening and unavoidable.

Later there were new worries.

Dodge balls aimed at the balls.  My balls.

The flinch game with the mandatory

punch of the shoulder for punishment.

I learned in 1962 that worry is anticipated

pain that doesn’t always happen, or isn’t

always as bad as one would expect.

But there were days when I should have worried more.