May 1, 2009

Part of the 2%

Recess at school, I was playing alone on the swing set. I liked to swing high enough so that I could jump off and go flying through the air. I was good at landing on my feet.

A group of the big grade 6 girls came over and grabbed the chains my swing was hanging from. It wobbled awkwardly before it came to a stop. I had to hang on tight to keep from falling.

The prettiest girl, their obvious leader, placed herself in front of me and crossed her arms, "Do you know who Prince is?"

I thought about it. "The prince? Like from Cinderella?" I asked.

"Not the prince, Prince. Prince is his name. Do you know who he is?"

"No. Who is he?"

She looked at her friends, who were standing on either side of me towering over my swing, and rolled her eyes. "She doesn't know," she told them. They laughed.

"Who is Prince?" I asked.

"If you don't know we're not going to tell you," she said. Her friends let go of my swing and they walked away.

I went back to swinging.


I was playing with a kid I'd just met on the swings at school.

I asked, "Are you a boy or a girl?"

"What do you think?"

"Well," I tilted my head to the side and thought about it, "You have short hair, blue clothes and a dirty face. I think you're a boy. Are you a boy?"

"I'm not telling."


We continued swinging in silence for a few minutes. Then my new friend said, "I found a harmonica on the playground. It's shaped like a ladybug. Want to see it?"

"Sure," I took the harmonica and blew a descending scale of notes. They sparked an idea.

"I know," I said, "let's play with it on the slide."

"Yeah, okay."

We jumped off the swings and ran to the slide, where we spent the rest of the lunch break taking turns playing notes down the scale as we slid down the slide.


I was playing tag with a group of kids when a couple of them cornered me.

"You ask her."

"No you ask her."

Turning to me, "Do you know who Jesus is?"


"You don't know who Jesus is?"


"She doesn't know who Jesus is."

"She's dumb."

"Yeah." She reached out and tagged my arm, "You're it," she said.

They turned and ran off, giggling, and I ran after them.


He said, "Come with me, I want to show you the what the DP club is."

The DP club was a secret club the local boys had been bragging about all summer. It was No Girls Allowed. My friends and I, being girls, felt left out of the secret. Now that he'd offered to show me, I wasn't going to miss my chance to find out what it was all about. I jumped down off of the deck behind my house, where I'd been playing Barbies with my friends, to follow him.

He led me to his house, into the garage and down some stairs. He opened a door and we went inside. It was a small basement room with concrete walls and floor and no windows. The walls were lined with unfinished wooden shelves that held jars and jars of dill pickles.

"This is the Dill Pickle club head quarters," he said, gesturing to the pickles.

"What do you do here?"

"We just hang out."

"That's it?" I was disappointed. I'd pictured something much more elaborate, with code names and secret handshakes.

"Pretty much," he said, leaning towards me, "If you give me a kiss I'll let you leave."

I squinted my eyes and raised my chin. "If you don't let me out of here right now, I'm going to scream and scream. You know your mom will hear me."

He put his hands up in surrender and moved aside. I slid past him and ran home to tell my friends what a big disappointment the DP club had been.


It was March break and we had invited a few friends from out of province to come home with us for the week. They all piled into my little car and I climbed in behind the wheel, stretched my right foot out towards the pedals, tucked my left leg up with the heel lodged firmly between the door and the seat, placed my right hand on the gear shift and my left hand loosely on the steering wheel - my standard driving pose.

From the back seat my friend said, "You look very comfortable there, Melanie."

"Really? What do you mean?" I asked.

She shrugged, "Just that you look very comfortable."

"In what way?"

"I don't know. I just noticed and I thought I'd point it out."


I was walking with another girl who lived in the same residence building as me. We were chatting about mundane, everyday things.

She laughed at something I said and told me, "You're so funny, Melanie."

"But I wasn't trying to be funny."

"I know. You just are, though. You're so funny."

"Really? Like in what way?"

"Oh, I don't know... You just are, I guess. I've never met anyone like you."

"Well, I didn't mean to be funny," I told her.

She rolled her eyes. "Never mind," she said.

We finished our walk in silence.


My friend sent me an internet quiz. I answered a series of questions, the last few asked me to choose a country that started with the letter D, an animal whose name started with the last letter in the name of the country I'd chosen and a fruit that started with the last letter of the type of animal I'd chosen. I chose the Dominican Republic, a cobra and an apple.

The quiz concluded by saying: 'Are you thinking of a Kangaroo in Denmark eating an Orange? If not, you're among the 2% of the population whose minds are different enough to think of something else. 98% of people will answer with kangaroos in Denmark when given this exercise.'

I emailed my friend, saying, "Nope, I was thinking of a cobra in the Dominican Republic eating an apple. Guess I'm in the two percent of weird people. Colour me not surprised."

To which she replied, "I thought maybe you might be part of the 2%!"




Heather of the EO said...

I loved this. It was like watching movie clips of your life. And very well-written too. :)

Lora said...

What a fun post!

I'm a part of the 2% too ;-)

Visiting you from SITS--have a great day!

~Mrs Sandy~ said...

Just stopping by from SITS and wanted to say hello!!!!! Now I'm off to read more of your blog:) I love your layout!!!!

Freelancing work said...

Interesting! Keep it up!
freelance work

Debbie said...

I loved this too. And I always strive to be in the 2%!

Don Mills Diva said...

This was such a thought-provoking post...

But then what else would I expect from someone in the 2%?

A Joyful Chaos said...

Great post. Enjoyed it a lot.

Lizzie said...

cool, wonderful post. thanks for sharing :)

Ronnica said...

This is great! I'm with Heather; it was like watching movie clips of your life. Yay for being in the 2%!

Tiaras & Tantrums said...


Elizabeth said...

Great stories - I loved reading them. :)

Rocksee said...

Visiting from SITS! You have a great site!!

Stop by and visit my blog and enter my giveaway to help the village of Eagle, AK!!

Nice to meet you!!

Merrily Down the Stream said...

And I, alas, am not...

Cairo Typ0 said...

I'm a 2%'er too!! :)

Mimi said...

Great post!

Thanks for stopping by my blog & helping to make my SITS day special!

wenderful said...

Thanks for stopping by my blog to help me celebrate my sits day today!

scrappysue said...

my photostory friday is about you - UPDATE UPDATE!!!!!

Pricilla said...

Popping in from SITS. Nice to read a blog for the first time...
Thank you

Reasons to be Cheerful 1,2,3 said...

This is great to read and a good idea to capture the memories.

Heather said...

there is an award for you over at my blog...but please don't feel obligated to accept. :)

Working mum said...

I had a Daschund in Deutschland eating Donuts! I guess I'm a 2%er too!

Good stories.

Suzi said...

Loved reading about all your childhood events that stood out to you.

Stopping in from SITS.

Superjaxster said...

I didn't know who Prince was either.
This was a fun post to read, like flashbacks in your movie :)