Standin Up For Somethin

Throughout the 90s, my family went to Grayton Beach for Spring Break - early April. This one year I played sheriff of the little town.

Riding bikes was the thing to do. From the house to the zoo, we'd go buy a snow cone and over to the dock, boardwalk, and downtown. But not e'erbody played fair...

This one day, especially hot, Mary came to me talking about how my friends had stolen her bike. Stealing, of course, was a dramatic term for what was usually just a familiar neighbor's little ride down the street (in this beach town no bigger than a mile from one end to the other).

Anyhow, I remember feeling in charge, determined. I went out on a mission for that bike, not feeling ready to stand my ground and not sure how the heck I was going to ride both my bike and my cousin's bike back to the house.

When I found Chad and Eliot down the street from the zoo, they were playing that 'don't be lame' tune. 'Its not important,' they said; 'why you being a punk for her sake?' And of course they knew I couldn't get it home by myself. So there was that argument against me.

My face red, I got homeboy Eliot off the bike; Eliot left tandeming Chad's bike. I'm not sure they really tried to bully me, but I felt like I had kept it real for Mary and won something... every 20 yards, I pulled over on the lead bike and went back to recovering the one behind.

Through the farm, over the river and through the woods. And that was that. The first time I stood up for something, against something, winning something.