CHAPTER 1 The Government of Boys
In Hannibal, Missouri, a boy could become a king before breakfast and lose his whole country at kickball.
I did it regularly. Our place was on Bird Street, beside the Central School playground. Donnie and Doug Brawley lived across the alley, which meant I could conduct most of my social life by yelling. A telephone would have been an unnecessary middleman. I hollered their names and kept hollering until somebody came out. It was a sound system with no volume control and a very small subscription area.
Once the boys arrived, we had to decide what to do. This generally took longer than doing it. We argued rules, selected teams, accused one another of cheating before a ball had moved, and established the boundaries of a field none of us owned. Adults might have recognized a form of government if they had watched closely. We preferred to get ours over with and play.
I was not the king of kickball. I was not even in line for the job.
I would come at that red ball with a plan large enough to require financing. My foot would touch it and the plan would disappear. The ball would wobble a few feet off course, looking as disappointed as I was. By the time I got myself underway, somebody had collected it and disposed of my political ambitions at first base.
Then we would race.
Doug beat me. If we changed the starting point, he beat me from the new starting point. If we moved the finish line, he reached that one first too. I kept thinking there must be some arrangement of distance and geography in which I could defeat him, but Doug had apparently made private accommodations with the earth.
I liked him. This complicated matters. It is much easier to lose to somebody you hate. You can accuse him of defects in character and go home improved. When your friend outruns you, you still have to stand there and talk to the little bastard afterward.
My older brother Vince presented a larger problem. He could do things. Physical things. The sort boys used to measure other boys before anybody thought to ask whether the measurements were useful.
At the gym there was a pegboard on the wall. Two wooden pegs, a collection of holes, and the simple invitation to lift your entire self by the arms. Whoever invented it had either loved children very much or never forgiven one.
Vince could go up and down that board. He made it look reasonable. I would get hold of the pegs and discover that my body had unanimously voted to remain on the floor.
I could not do a pull-up. My ambition was excellent; the rest of me was dead weight.
This was difficult information for a boy to receive about himself. I did not think, Well, Kevin, you are developing at your own pace. I thought, Vince can do it. Doug can run. What the hell is wrong with you?
Children can be merciless, but they are amateurs beside the child who lives inside your own head.
Years later, I could outrun Doug. He was a safety and I was a lineman, which made it especially satisfying. I mention the positions because I have reached an age at which I ought to be
above this sort of thing and have chosen to remain available for it.
But I am getting ahead of myself. Back then Doug was still winning, Vince was still climbing, and I was still insisting on another turn.
Hannibal had Mark Twain on duty everywhere. People came from all over to get a little of him. We lived there and had developed the ability to hear his name without interrupting whatever we were doing.
In sixth grade they took us to the cave. It was the only time I went. The guide could have saved the historical portion of the program for somebody with an interest in history. I was in love with Marlene and trying to decide whether to kiss her. They were telling us Jesse James had hidden out there. I was trying to accomplish something considerably more dangerous.
I cannot give you a useful account of the outlaw's accommodations. My entire faculty had been assigned to Marlene.
But before that, there were the boys across the alley, games to be organized badly, and a world I could reach by hollering.
For a while, when I called, people came.