Following Sarabeth’s lead, my porn was a big gaudy ring from the Shellee shop in my hometown. My girlfriend and I took several and she had hers in her slipper and they fell out once at home in front of her mom. We had to go into the store to return them. For years I could not walk past that store. However, what came from it was my amazing mom saying that if I ever wanted something so badly like that to tell her and we’d figure it out. From then on I always had a dime in my penny loafers for that call. I wanted to mention that I caught a glimpse of Kiki in your mother, her eyes.. Yes?! Loved this read! Now, twice the pleasure of reading both Tina and you. A jackpot 🎰 moment. Thanks, Eric. 🪶🧚
Thanks Joanie, I believe that Kiki did favor my mother. They had a great bond and my mom passed 2 months after Kiki, she just kind of gave up. I had penny loafers at one point but it was smart to upgrade them to dime loafers!
I love everything about this story, especially your segue from Honest Boy to Crime Boy. I'm LOL here at work! And loved how you brought it back to your sweet girl 💖
My porn was M&Ms. At around 7-8 years old my parents & I stopped for groceries on our way home from church. I desperately wanted candy but had no money and I knew better than to ask. I had on a coat where one of the pockets was ripped through and stuff fell into the body of my coat. Thinking I was stealthy I put a bag of M&Ms (mind you not the small single serving bag - I went big) in my handy fall through pocket. I was scared silly but found my mom and told her I was going to the car. As I was walking out I felt a big hand on my shoulder and a scary man’s voice said “little girl what do you have in your pocket”? I handed over my loot and he lectured me and told me never to come into the store again. Why he didn’t tell my parents I’ll never know but I was never tempted again to steal. To this day I feel my shoulders hunch just a little when I leave a store and don’t get me started on the few times a tag has been left on clothing and the alarm goes off. I never went back into that store again and my mom wondered why every time. When I told her years later she had a good laugh.
Eric, thank you for being vulnerable and sharing this personal story. I'm sorry that your father lacked the emotional intelligence to handle your innocent theft with compassion and understanding. Sadly, parents often see their child's misbehaviour as a reflection on them, rather than seeing it as a child exploring boundaries. A friend who is a psychologist told me that it's not good if kids never act out, and are always compliant and obedient, like your "good" sibling, because it means they're operating out of fear and their emotional growth can be stunted, developing self worth based on external rewards, like pleasing others. Kids act out because they're testing boundaries. Of course you have to tell them why their actions are not desirable or harmful, but if they're told that they're loved no matter what, then children feel safe to explore the world and try things out - even naughty things. A mature response means they feel loved just because they exist and not because they're obedient, or become a doctor or any other role deemed worthy by a society. Because if we lose that role, or the other external drivers we think make us happy, then what's left? Great post. Thanks Eric.
Thanks Silvana, my father was not wired to deal with children. We did become close as adults and we actually switched batons at one point and I became the alpha. One maladaptive thing I learned from my parents reactions was to hide all behaviors that were left of center. I would check the mail and get the cut slips, I would answer the phone and sass whoever was calling, you get the picture. The funny thing is when I confessed things to my mother as an adult she didn't believe me!
Oops, I did something and lost what I was leading up to before disappeared. In case it’s lost forever I simply want to say how great it was that you took the time and attention to respond to each and every person who commented. You didn’t let anyone feel that they’ve been talking to a brick wall.
Hii Joy Boy :) it’s so nice to read your own words as we’ve only gotten to know you here thru your other half’s beautiful references. I love what you say in your bio about wanting to find + create it whenever possible; I think the good + “criminal” versions of yourself helped to shape that most desirable of feelings + honor how important it is to experience it as often as you can.
The ending to your story was at once heartbreaking + lovely; as I have told Tina in prior comments, there is zero doubt that your precious Kiki has been + will always be so close by, in your hearts where she lives for eternity + watching over all of the amazing adventures you two have been on since one of the most difficult tragedies any humans can ever go thru. You guys are fabulous people + I love receiving these newsletters so much. May you keep on rockin in the free world 🫶🏻
(Also - as a fellow Long Islander, my bad thing was shoplifting!)
Beautiful picture of KiKi! I smoked the stub of my dad's cigar when I was about seven. The dentist wondered why I had a tobacco stain on my tooth. I've lived an honest life (for the most part;) since.
Your mom was so beautiful and had such kind eyes. Your story is such a wonderful reminder of life then - some good, some bad. I love that Kiki loved Peter Pan like you did💚
First of all, holy cow does Keek look like your mom! Secondly, I’m excited to greet you this summer… but which name shall I choose? And finally, this letter was such a gift. Peter Pan was a gift. Magic and mystery are such sustaining gifts. Keek is right there, upholding the tradition, a magical mystery being, as real as our souls. I’m grateful Peter Pan was there in your youth to prime you for the present. Maybe I should start calling Tina “Wendy”…💖
Hi Sheryl, thanks for the wonderful note. I will answer to anything as long as there's food or beer involved! Keek had a beautiful auracana hen she named Wendy, so that name is taken. There's always Smee!
That’s really funny, Eric. Your story reads like a slightly “noir” Little Rascals” episode and it brings back memories of the various corner stores where we would spend our precious coins on comics and candy. Many Saturday mornings were spent collecting bottles to redeem for a nickel and use for purchasing “peashooters”, bubble gum and Baby Ruths to fuel our little “wars” riding our bikes around the neighborhood. My own personal crime spree began and ended in 5th grade when I was hanging out with a new “friend”, John A., who had another friend, John F., who suggested that we hit the local 5 & 10 cent store for some adventure. Shuffling down the last aisle of the old retail space, John F whispered that we could easily shove a few Bic pens into our pockets to “re-sell” at school, and in a flash he opened the sliding doors under the display and grabbed a case of the ink-filled tubes. In another flash he announced that we had to “make a run for it” as a suspicious matron began to sound the alert. Hastily beating our retreat through the rear doors into a parking lot, the three budding criminals ran as fast as we could and somehow escaped the punishing arms of the law. Next day at school, however, after John’s F and A had attempted to unload the loot for a profit on the playground at recess, an observant teacher remanded them to a nice get together with their parents and the principal. I avoided the shame by being a little too reluctant to fend the ill-gotten goods, and besides, it really wasn’t my idea in the first place.
Oh man, that's priceless! I wanted it to go on and on. You are in a very small handful of "funniest people I know"... Being the voracious reader that I've become I want to order your book right now so I can keep reading but, alas I'll just have to wait for the next chapter....
Two bad things I did in grade school were to convince myself and my younger siblings that some building or storeroom was the scene of a crime, probably murder, and we should break in and search for evidence. I did this once at a church through the woods and all that was inside was paper. I did it to a trailer also through the woods and the owner came over and asked my parents if any of us little kids could have done such a thing. I still feel badly about both instances, as I'm sort of a rule follower, and I wonder if it was the proverbial "cry for help" about stuff I couldn't talk about. As for you, Mr. Eric, good god, your dad was so handsome and your mon so beautiful, of course you're so handsome! And of course you met beautiful Tina young and still love each other. And of course Kiki too is ethereally gorgeous. I love looking at all of you and reading you and Tina. I like the idea of taking your grief and enticing joy from this world.
At St. Raphael Catholic School, we were given permission to leave class to go to the bathroom only if we took a buddy. I always wondered why, as I knew that I could get into far more trouble with a friend than I could alone.
The rules at school were quite strict and, while I liked school, there was an element of fear involved in my experience there. It was a safer place than home, but still, rules were to be followed and the threat of a trip to the principal’s office hung heavily in the air. We were taught by both nuns and laypeople (women, of course), but the principal was always a nun of imposing stature and authority.
Corrine and I headed to the first-floor restroom together, a welcomed break from the classroom. After taking care of business, we were tempted by a high open window in the back stall, which overlooked the blacktop on which we played at recess. We wondered if we might get away with one of us climbing up and crawling out, while the other ran around the corner from the restroom to let the escapee back in through the main entrance to the school. This would be a risky mission, as the principal’s office was at the other end of that short hallway. What if she were to emerge and see us?
It was the danger of the situation that enticed us. We were good girls, by and large; we almost never got into any kind of trouble at school. We were considered trustworthy. But we also felt imprisoned by all the routine and rules and expectations, even more so because of this reputation of ours as being rule followers. The pressure on us to always do right was enormous. We started out thinking of this as a big “what if?,” just a fun thought, and then we started to mull it over more seriously. We decided to go for the escape. We didn’t think too much about the possible consequences. We just wanted to know if we could get away with it. We just wanted to color outside the lines.
Boosting Corinne up to the window was not easy. She was bigger than I was, but a bit more daring, so we decided she would be the runner. She flailed a bit as I pushed her up from below. She managed to squeeze through the opening, which we both found exhilarating. I don’t know how she felt about dropping to the hard pavement outside from above; I was already out of the stall, through the bathroom door, and peering around the corner of that hallway into the front hall. All clear. To the heavy front doors I ran, where Corinne was waiting. I pushed the door open as quietly as I could, she dashed through, and we quickly (but not too quickly) walked back to our fourth-grade classroom. Our hearts were beating, but we didn’t dare speak of what had happened or of how we were feeling. We didn’t dare speak at all. We would not be home free until back at our desks, where we could breathe a sigh of relief.
And then, we felt more than relief; this was a triumph! We had broken a rule and gotten away with it. While it was a victimless crime, it was certainly a punishable one. This felt like a coup! Being caught leaving the school building without permission, even for only seconds, would have ruined our reputations as well-behaved Catholic girls. We would have paid dearly for this transgression. But we had succeeded, and this adventure would remain our secret.
And then, we felt more than relief; this was a triumph! We had broken a rule and gotten away with it. While it was a victimless crime, it was certainly a punishable one. This felt like a coup! Being caught leaving the school building without permission, even for only seconds, would have ruined our reputations as well-behaved Catholic girls. We would have paid dearly for this transgression. But we had succeeded, and this adventure would remain our secret.
Thank you Ann, what a great story! I went to Flushing Christian Day School for first grade. I had a little too much energy for the nuns and was asked not to return for second grade, thank God!
I stole an easter egg coloring kit - I shoved it into my pants, and made it all the way home to my room where I had started to mix the little tablets in water...my mom caught me and since mine was a strict fundamentalist home and egg coloring kit was tantamount to bringing satan in the house with all the history of rites of spring and fertility and I don't know...joy?! Let's just say there was hell to pay 😆 I loved reading this story. And loved the little boy that you were through and through.
Following Sarabeth’s lead, my porn was a big gaudy ring from the Shellee shop in my hometown. My girlfriend and I took several and she had hers in her slipper and they fell out once at home in front of her mom. We had to go into the store to return them. For years I could not walk past that store. However, what came from it was my amazing mom saying that if I ever wanted something so badly like that to tell her and we’d figure it out. From then on I always had a dime in my penny loafers for that call. I wanted to mention that I caught a glimpse of Kiki in your mother, her eyes.. Yes?! Loved this read! Now, twice the pleasure of reading both Tina and you. A jackpot 🎰 moment. Thanks, Eric. 🪶🧚
Thanks Joanie, I believe that Kiki did favor my mother. They had a great bond and my mom passed 2 months after Kiki, she just kind of gave up. I had penny loafers at one point but it was smart to upgrade them to dime loafers!
I love everything about this story, especially your segue from Honest Boy to Crime Boy. I'm LOL here at work! And loved how you brought it back to your sweet girl 💖
Thanks Amy, it's such a cool feeling to dive deep into the past!
My porn was M&Ms. At around 7-8 years old my parents & I stopped for groceries on our way home from church. I desperately wanted candy but had no money and I knew better than to ask. I had on a coat where one of the pockets was ripped through and stuff fell into the body of my coat. Thinking I was stealthy I put a bag of M&Ms (mind you not the small single serving bag - I went big) in my handy fall through pocket. I was scared silly but found my mom and told her I was going to the car. As I was walking out I felt a big hand on my shoulder and a scary man’s voice said “little girl what do you have in your pocket”? I handed over my loot and he lectured me and told me never to come into the store again. Why he didn’t tell my parents I’ll never know but I was never tempted again to steal. To this day I feel my shoulders hunch just a little when I leave a store and don’t get me started on the few times a tag has been left on clothing and the alarm goes off. I never went back into that store again and my mom wondered why every time. When I told her years later she had a good laugh.
Thanks for sharing your story.
Thanks Sarabeth, I got a good laugh from “my porn was M&Ms”! When we are on a long travel day I will choose peanut M&Ms as my energy boost.
Eric, thank you for being vulnerable and sharing this personal story. I'm sorry that your father lacked the emotional intelligence to handle your innocent theft with compassion and understanding. Sadly, parents often see their child's misbehaviour as a reflection on them, rather than seeing it as a child exploring boundaries. A friend who is a psychologist told me that it's not good if kids never act out, and are always compliant and obedient, like your "good" sibling, because it means they're operating out of fear and their emotional growth can be stunted, developing self worth based on external rewards, like pleasing others. Kids act out because they're testing boundaries. Of course you have to tell them why their actions are not desirable or harmful, but if they're told that they're loved no matter what, then children feel safe to explore the world and try things out - even naughty things. A mature response means they feel loved just because they exist and not because they're obedient, or become a doctor or any other role deemed worthy by a society. Because if we lose that role, or the other external drivers we think make us happy, then what's left? Great post. Thanks Eric.
Thanks Silvana, my father was not wired to deal with children. We did become close as adults and we actually switched batons at one point and I became the alpha. One maladaptive thing I learned from my parents reactions was to hide all behaviors that were left of center. I would check the mail and get the cut slips, I would answer the phone and sass whoever was calling, you get the picture. The funny thing is when I confessed things to my mother as an adult she didn't believe me!
Oops, I did something and lost what I was leading up to before disappeared. In case it’s lost forever I simply want to say how great it was that you took the time and attention to respond to each and every person who commented. You didn’t let anyone feel that they’ve been talking to a brick wall.
Aren't Tina and Eric the most wonderful people? Kiki was so lucky to enjoy her years on this earth with them as her parents.
Hi Kirie, I'm blushing! We are the lucky ones.
Thank you Diane, very.nice to hear, I appreciate hearing from everyone and want to build connections.
Hii Joy Boy :) it’s so nice to read your own words as we’ve only gotten to know you here thru your other half’s beautiful references. I love what you say in your bio about wanting to find + create it whenever possible; I think the good + “criminal” versions of yourself helped to shape that most desirable of feelings + honor how important it is to experience it as often as you can.
The ending to your story was at once heartbreaking + lovely; as I have told Tina in prior comments, there is zero doubt that your precious Kiki has been + will always be so close by, in your hearts where she lives for eternity + watching over all of the amazing adventures you two have been on since one of the most difficult tragedies any humans can ever go thru. You guys are fabulous people + I love receiving these newsletters so much. May you keep on rockin in the free world 🫶🏻
(Also - as a fellow Long Islander, my bad thing was shoplifting!)
Hi Keri, happy to be a Joy Boy! You really get what I'm putting out there and I will do my best to keep rockin in the free world!
Beautiful picture of KiKi! I smoked the stub of my dad's cigar when I was about seven. The dentist wondered why I had a tobacco stain on my tooth. I've lived an honest life (for the most part;) since.
Eric Hedin
16m
Thanks Catherine, it takes a tough 7 year old girl to smoke a stogie!
Your mom was so beautiful and had such kind eyes. Your story is such a wonderful reminder of life then - some good, some bad. I love that Kiki loved Peter Pan like you did💚
Thank you Marianne, you made me smile!
First of all, holy cow does Keek look like your mom! Secondly, I’m excited to greet you this summer… but which name shall I choose? And finally, this letter was such a gift. Peter Pan was a gift. Magic and mystery are such sustaining gifts. Keek is right there, upholding the tradition, a magical mystery being, as real as our souls. I’m grateful Peter Pan was there in your youth to prime you for the present. Maybe I should start calling Tina “Wendy”…💖
Hi Sheryl, thanks for the wonderful note. I will answer to anything as long as there's food or beer involved! Keek had a beautiful auracana hen she named Wendy, so that name is taken. There's always Smee!
Love this Eric,
It made me laugh and remember my own shannigans as a child.
Thanks Patricia, when I swap stories with kids from the 60's I marvel that we all made it this far!
That’s really funny, Eric. Your story reads like a slightly “noir” Little Rascals” episode and it brings back memories of the various corner stores where we would spend our precious coins on comics and candy. Many Saturday mornings were spent collecting bottles to redeem for a nickel and use for purchasing “peashooters”, bubble gum and Baby Ruths to fuel our little “wars” riding our bikes around the neighborhood. My own personal crime spree began and ended in 5th grade when I was hanging out with a new “friend”, John A., who had another friend, John F., who suggested that we hit the local 5 & 10 cent store for some adventure. Shuffling down the last aisle of the old retail space, John F whispered that we could easily shove a few Bic pens into our pockets to “re-sell” at school, and in a flash he opened the sliding doors under the display and grabbed a case of the ink-filled tubes. In another flash he announced that we had to “make a run for it” as a suspicious matron began to sound the alert. Hastily beating our retreat through the rear doors into a parking lot, the three budding criminals ran as fast as we could and somehow escaped the punishing arms of the law. Next day at school, however, after John’s F and A had attempted to unload the loot for a profit on the playground at recess, an observant teacher remanded them to a nice get together with their parents and the principal. I avoided the shame by being a little too reluctant to fend the ill-gotten goods, and besides, it really wasn’t my idea in the first place.
Hi Todd, love this, I had no idea you were part of a criminal organization as a child!
I was struck by the similarities between Kiki and that photo of your Mom.
Hi Dan! They were alike in so many ways.
Oh man, that's priceless! I wanted it to go on and on. You are in a very small handful of "funniest people I know"... Being the voracious reader that I've become I want to order your book right now so I can keep reading but, alas I'll just have to wait for the next chapter....
Tha ks Mike, I'll do my best to keep 'em coming g!
Two bad things I did in grade school were to convince myself and my younger siblings that some building or storeroom was the scene of a crime, probably murder, and we should break in and search for evidence. I did this once at a church through the woods and all that was inside was paper. I did it to a trailer also through the woods and the owner came over and asked my parents if any of us little kids could have done such a thing. I still feel badly about both instances, as I'm sort of a rule follower, and I wonder if it was the proverbial "cry for help" about stuff I couldn't talk about. As for you, Mr. Eric, good god, your dad was so handsome and your mon so beautiful, of course you're so handsome! And of course you met beautiful Tina young and still love each other. And of course Kiki too is ethereally gorgeous. I love looking at all of you and reading you and Tina. I like the idea of taking your grief and enticing joy from this world.
Hi Kirie, thank you! Sounds like you were quite the ringleader!
At St. Raphael Catholic School, we were given permission to leave class to go to the bathroom only if we took a buddy. I always wondered why, as I knew that I could get into far more trouble with a friend than I could alone.
The rules at school were quite strict and, while I liked school, there was an element of fear involved in my experience there. It was a safer place than home, but still, rules were to be followed and the threat of a trip to the principal’s office hung heavily in the air. We were taught by both nuns and laypeople (women, of course), but the principal was always a nun of imposing stature and authority.
Corrine and I headed to the first-floor restroom together, a welcomed break from the classroom. After taking care of business, we were tempted by a high open window in the back stall, which overlooked the blacktop on which we played at recess. We wondered if we might get away with one of us climbing up and crawling out, while the other ran around the corner from the restroom to let the escapee back in through the main entrance to the school. This would be a risky mission, as the principal’s office was at the other end of that short hallway. What if she were to emerge and see us?
It was the danger of the situation that enticed us. We were good girls, by and large; we almost never got into any kind of trouble at school. We were considered trustworthy. But we also felt imprisoned by all the routine and rules and expectations, even more so because of this reputation of ours as being rule followers. The pressure on us to always do right was enormous. We started out thinking of this as a big “what if?,” just a fun thought, and then we started to mull it over more seriously. We decided to go for the escape. We didn’t think too much about the possible consequences. We just wanted to know if we could get away with it. We just wanted to color outside the lines.
Boosting Corinne up to the window was not easy. She was bigger than I was, but a bit more daring, so we decided she would be the runner. She flailed a bit as I pushed her up from below. She managed to squeeze through the opening, which we both found exhilarating. I don’t know how she felt about dropping to the hard pavement outside from above; I was already out of the stall, through the bathroom door, and peering around the corner of that hallway into the front hall. All clear. To the heavy front doors I ran, where Corinne was waiting. I pushed the door open as quietly as I could, she dashed through, and we quickly (but not too quickly) walked back to our fourth-grade classroom. Our hearts were beating, but we didn’t dare speak of what had happened or of how we were feeling. We didn’t dare speak at all. We would not be home free until back at our desks, where we could breathe a sigh of relief.
And then, we felt more than relief; this was a triumph! We had broken a rule and gotten away with it. While it was a victimless crime, it was certainly a punishable one. This felt like a coup! Being caught leaving the school building without permission, even for only seconds, would have ruined our reputations as well-behaved Catholic girls. We would have paid dearly for this transgression. But we had succeeded, and this adventure would remain our secret.
And then, we felt more than relief; this was a triumph! We had broken a rule and gotten away with it. While it was a victimless crime, it was certainly a punishable one. This felt like a coup! Being caught leaving the school building without permission, even for only seconds, would have ruined our reputations as well-behaved Catholic girls. We would have paid dearly for this transgression. But we had succeeded, and this adventure would remain our secret.
Thank you Ann, what a great story! I went to Flushing Christian Day School for first grade. I had a little too much energy for the nuns and was asked not to return for second grade, thank God!
I stole an easter egg coloring kit - I shoved it into my pants, and made it all the way home to my room where I had started to mix the little tablets in water...my mom caught me and since mine was a strict fundamentalist home and egg coloring kit was tantamount to bringing satan in the house with all the history of rites of spring and fertility and I don't know...joy?! Let's just say there was hell to pay 😆 I loved reading this story. And loved the little boy that you were through and through.
Thanks Sarah, sounds like your experience was not too far from mine! I enjoyed deep diving into the past and hanging out with both versions.