‘The Lamb Curse’
My son Jesse was a bright kid. From age 3, he looked forward to his first day of school. Excited about the prospect. Eager. Enthusiastic. So I was stunned when — after a few weeks of kindergarten — he approached me, somberly, and said, “Dad, I’m quittin’ school.”
What?
“Why?” I asked.
“Kids make fun of my name …”
“Ah, yes,” I thought. “The Lamb Curse.”
Everybody gets made-fun-of for something: Too tall; too short. Fat; skinny. Smart; dumb. Cloths too nice; clothes too shabby. You name it. Kids are mean. I know. I was the short fat kid named Lamb. Little wonder, then, that I used to uncontrollably claw my head in frustration until my fingernails filled with blood and skull-skin.
Here’s the essence of what I told my devastated little guy: “My brothers and I had to deal with the Lamb thing. We did it in different ways. Trick is, you have to make fun of it yourself. Then it’s not an issue.”
For example, when people ask for my name, I still say: “Lamb — like in Mary had a little …”
For some reason, it works. Like an inoculation: They laugh; I laugh. It’s over.
My brother Mark — third of the four “The Lamb Boys” — took a slightly different track: “Lamb,” he’d say. “Like in lamb chops.”
Little wonder, then, that he earned the moniker “Chopper,” a nickname that served him well when he later raced dirt bikes and racked up a bunch of trophies, including a statewide championship.
Here’s the deal: My advice to my son — that me and my bro-boys learned the hard way — is a variation of Luke 6:29: “And unto him that smiteth thee on the one cheek offer also the other …” (KJV). If you don’t like The King’s English, here’s a paraphrase: “If someone slaps you on one cheek, offer him the other one, too.”
My variation was, slap yourself first — then offer up your other cheek as an encore.
Ca·peesh?
Here’s some perspective: I believe Jesus of Nazareth was/is the most innocent man who ever lived on God’s Green Earth. Unblemished. Without sin. Perfect. Yet people spit in his face, ripped out his beard hairs, whipped his back bloody-raw, jammed sharp thorns into his skull-skin, mocked him — then nailed railroad-like spikes through his wrists and feet.
His response?
“Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do.” ( Luke 23:34 )
Impressive . . . eleven on a scale of 10, like that Marshall amp scene in “Spinal Tap.”
But back to Jesse.
Not only did my bright little son make it through his elementary years, but he also did quite well in high school, eventually going to the University of Florida (Gainesville) where he received his DIS degree (Decision and Information Sciences). He then went on to graduate from UF’s Fredric G. Levin College of Law.
Not too shabby for a kid who wanted to quit kindergarten.
Jim Lamb is a retired journalist and author of “Orange Socks & Other Colorful Tales,” the story of how he survived Vietnam and kept his sense of humor. He loves his kids. For more about Jim and his writing, visitwww.jslstories.com.
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