A young, small dark haired boy was running quickly down the city street in the Queens area of New York City.
This was Forest Hills, a predominantly middle class neighbourhood where the houses were modern looking and spacious with moderately sized, well kept gardens and large drives where at least two cars could be parked more than comfortably on them.
This was a mainly Jewish neighbourhood where families would very often congregate within each others homes and where a real close knit community was built up. Everybody seemed to know everyone else and they all looked out for one another.
This was indeed a respectable neighbourhood, where it was considered safe to bring up and raise children.
Paul Simon was one such child.
He was brought up within the Jewish religion, often attending the Synagogue at weekends with his parents and younger brother. He wasn't particularly bothered about religion. It didn't really interest him much. In fact he found it dull and boring and would have much preferred to be bouncing a ball around the place, riding his bike, reading his comics or climbing some trees. He was a proper boy, with cuts and scrapes on his knees to prove it and like most boys his age, he wasn't at all interested in any of the stuff his parents were interested in either. He left that sort of thing to his younger brother Eddie, whom seemed quite at home just tagging around with his mum and more especially his Dad.
Paul had very different ideas. He couldn't wait to just go off and do his own thing. It wasn't that he had many other people that he could hang out with either, in fact he only had a handful of friends for Paul Simon was basically a loner. He had figured from quite an early age, that doing things on your own and in your own way was much less of a hassle than ever trying to compete with any one else. He was competitive like that.
He also liked to please himself and do stuff at his own pace and definitely in his own way. He was especially single minded and very independent and this is what his father Louis didn't quite understand.
Louis Simon was a bass player and the leader in a band. He was well used to working as a team, to be a part of something and the big band sounds of the late 1940's was his calling.
Paul wasn't enthused by this at all. He didn't care much for his Father's type of music and so steered well clear of it.
Eddie, his brother though, loved it. He would very often sit in the house listening and watching his father practice with his other band mates, whilst Paul would be bouncing a ball outside up against a wall or something, or even swinging a baseball bat about the place practicing his swing.
Paul loved ball games. He actually yearned to be a famous baseball player when he grew up or even a famous basketball player. But baseball was his passion. He simply loved it and had become a lifelong fan of The New York Yankees. His home team.
Paul's mother Belle, taught English at a nearby kinda garden. She was forthright and took no messing. She said what she thought, even if it was sometimes out of turn, although she wasn't too strict on her boys. She just somehow expected them to do well in school and to stay out of trouble and of course, they respected her for that.
Louis on the other hand, really didn't have much time for his eldest son.
He found Paul's love of baseball infuriating, as he couldn't understand the fascination with it. He also didn't like his son's insistence in being a bit of a loner. He thought it odd that Paul wasn't a part of the cool kid brigade and he also couldn't deal with his eldest son's bouts of quietness and awkward insecurities.
Of course as Paul grew older, these things became more prominent and to the fore a lot more, which in turn drove a firm wedge further into their already struggling relationship.
Louis though, had Eddie to practice and lavish all of his fatherly love and devotion on. There was no room in his life for Paul as well, particularly with his inward somewhat sullen ways.
Now bursting through the family home, after another day at school Paul was excited that his favourite Captain Marvel comic was out today. It was the little things, such as this that made Paul Simon the most happiest.
As he entered the large kitchen, where his Mother Belle was preparing dinner, he could hear his father in the adjoining dining room, practising his playing on the big double bass that he had in there. Paul listened for a second, before asking:
"Dad got a gig tonight then?".
His mother looked down at her son, as she now placed two small plates in front of him, each one with a turkey sandwich and a chocolate bar on them.
"Yes he has and I expect you to be quiet whilst he prepares". She warned.
Just as she said that a very loud child's giggle was heard, followed by erratic laughter coming from the adjacent room.
"Is Eddie in there?". Frowned Paul.
His mother was now putting two very full glasses of ice cold milk next to the plates and looked at her eldest son for a second before answering him.
"Yes Paul....... he is. Now take him his sandwich and milk and try not to disturb your father". She said abruptly.
Paul frowned again as he picked up one of the plates and a glass.
"Did he skip school then?". He then asked.
Belle Simon took in a laboured breath and then sighed.
"He wasn't feeling too well this morning, so I said he could stay off today". She said.
"So....... He didn't go?". Questioned Paul.
He was horrified by his mother's apparent lapse in always making them go to school no matter what!
She sighed again.
"No he didn't. Like I said....... He wasn't well this morning".
Paul stared at her. This was totally unprecedented.
Belle was a stickler for both boys to do well in their education and always sent them to school, even if they were seemingly almost at deaths door!
Paul slowly started to make his way towards the adjacent room, balancing the milk and the plate shakily with one hand as he attempted to open it and enter the room. He could now quite plainly hear the laughter coming from within it.
"Oh, hi Paul". Eddie beamed as Paul entered.
"I didn't go to school today. Did Mum tell you".
Paul placed the plate and the glass down in front of him.
"Yeah, she said you weren't feeling too well". Paul said quietly, as he now realised that there wasn't an awful lot wrong at all with his younger sibling.
"Dad said I can go with him tonight! To the gig! Isn't that great!". Eddie burst out excitedly.
Paul immediately looked up at Louis Simon, stood there looking intimidating behind his somewhat huge double bass.
"Why don't you come and all". Eddie grinned, biting into his sandwich as if he hadn't eaten for a week.
"Oh, look...... A Chocolate bar as well". He then went on. "That's great!".
Paul smiled slightly at his younger brothers enthusiasm for the chocolate though he was still looking at his father, trying to gauge his reaction to Eddie's suggestion that he should come too.
But there was nothing. No look of encouragement, no words to say. Just a glare.
"No..... Mate". Paul then answered, now turning back towards him.
"I won't today, if you don't mind".
His tone of voice was somewhat sad and down beaten. It was so plainly obvious to him that his father just didn't want him to come with them tonight.
It was an invitation for Eddie only.
But Eddie was looking disappointed about Paul's somewhat enforced decision. He would really have liked him to come with them.
"Awww........Paulie........". Eddie now wailed.
"Why won't you come....... It'll be so much fun......... And we'll have a late night as well!". He shrilled.
Paul again smiled lovingly at his over exuberant brother, but really wished however, that he had been invited properly by his father, then he might have actually been tempted.
"Anyway.......". Paul said, now trying to sound more upbeat about it.
"I've got my Captain Marvel today! I'm just off to go and get it. D'ya wanna come?". He asked brightly.
Eddie put his head down and took another bite of his sandwich.
"Naaaa........ I'll pass". He said sadly.
Paul looked at him as now it was Eddie's turn to look somewhat sad and disappointed.
"I'll tell you what.............when I'm down there, I'll get you some candy, you know to take with you tonight, if you like". Paul suggested brightly.
"You'd like that wouldn't you!".
Eddie still not looking up shrugged his shoulders.
"Well....... I guess so". He mumbled.
Paul now went towards the door and looked over again at his father still stood there, just staring at him. This felt so damned awkward for the young boy to cope with. But he figured that this was how it was going to be.
He left the room and straight away the double bass started playing again.
"You didn't disturb your father did you?". Belle said in a warning tone, without turning around to look at him.
"No". Paul sighed, getting up onto a bar stool in order to eat his sandwich at the table.
He took a couple of bites from it as his mother carried on preparing dinner in silence.
All that could be heard now was the deep sounds of the double bass from the next room and Eddie's excited chatter which accompanied it.
Yes, it was alright for Eddie to make as much noise as he liked, but not for him!
Paul could hardly breathe loudly in order for his father to get annoyed with him!
"So?". Paul now asked. "Eddie's off to dad's gig tonight then?".
"Yeah, I believe so". Belle answered without looking up.
"How come he gets to go?". Paul asked in a disgruntled manner.
Belle turned around to now face him, her expression was one of almost anger that he even dared a to ask the question.
"And what about school tomorrow?". Paul went on, "I guess he's going isn't he?".
"Of course he's going". Snapped Belle.
Paul suddenly looked very hurt and Belle's expression softened now somewhat towards him.
"Look, Edward as been helping your father out a lot of late. He just thought it would be a treat for him to go to a gig for once. You don't mind that do you Paul?". She asked.
Paul shrugged his shoulders.
"Suppose not". He grumbled, now taking a glug of milk from the glass. "But it would have been nice to have been asked by dad if I would like to go too!".
"And would you have gone?". Belle asked.
"Would you have gone to the gig as well.......... And enjoyed it?".
Paul shrugged again.
"Maybe not". He answered, "But it still would have been nice to have been asked".
Belle shook her head at him, then went back to preparing dinner, whilst Paul continued to polish off his sandwich.
But he was still not happy.
Even though, he didn't particularly want to go himself, he just couldn't get his head around the fact that his father hadn't even asked him.
He could have done. It wouldn't have hurt him. In any case, Paul might have surprised everyone and actually gone!
"What if they get back really late then?". Asked Paul now, as he pushed away his plate, "And Eddie can't get up for school on time in the morning. What happens then?".
"Then he won't go". Belle said turning around to face him again as she wiped her hands on a tea towel.
"Well that's not fair!". Wailed Paul.
"Eddie will be alright. He'll soon catch up with his studies". His mother said, turning from him again.
"He's a bright lad. It'll be no bother for him to miss a day or two".
Paul could hardly believe this!
It had always been drummed into him that school and studying was the single most important thing in a child's life, to ensure a good education and therefore secure a good, well paid job at the end of it.
His mother was forever telling him that life is so much easier if your well respected and had a good education behind you.
Paul had believed that and had always tried hard at school. Now it seemed that there were some very different rules for Eddie!!
Paul found it pointless to go on with this now though. Clearly both his parents thought that Eddie was the one with all the brains and therefore were treating him accordingly.
It wasn't Eddie's fault, Paul understood that, so he would just have to show them that he could make them proud of him one day. Perhaps by becoming a famous baseball player!
"My comic's out today". Paul suddenly announced.
"Oh, is it?". Belle said turning round again.
"That's come around quickly again".
"Not quick enough". Laughed Paul.
"I suppose I'll have to get you some money then". She said, reaching for her purse.
"I also said I'd get some candy for Eddie whilst I was at the store, you know......... For tonight". Paul added.
"That's good of you to think of your brother like that. Sometimes Paul, you can be most kind". Belle smiled as she handed him a couple of dollar bills.
Paul felt his chest kind of puff out. He liked receiving compliments. Sadly though, in this household they were very few and far between, for him at least. Everything seemed to centre around Eddie these days.
With the chocolate bar now stuffed into his jacket pocket and his one hand clutching tightly onto the money, Paul Simon now grabbed his favourite New York Yankees cap, placed it tightly onto his head, then picked up his baseball so that he could practice his control of it as he made his way down to the local corner shop. The shop wasn't that far, just about two or possibly even three blocks away.
It was a well stocked, friendly kind of place and very often a lot of the local kids would be found in there either getting a few groceries for their mother's or filling up their pockets full of candy!
Paul always liked going in there, it gave him the chance to play with his basketball on the way. It was not unlike Paul Simon to actually offer to fetch something from the store if his mother ever needed some bread of a bottle of milk!
Although his great love was in fact baseball, he also liked the control and feel of the big, leather basketball, bouncing it down the sidewalk practising his moves. He now figured that he'd be able to bounce the ball, none stop all the way to the store without any trouble. Then he'd get his Captain Marvel comic, have a breather, possibly sitting down on the wall outside the shop to read the first couple of pages, whilst also then tucking into the chocolate. After that he'd then bounce the ball all the way back home again.
But sadly he didn't get the chance.
Paul had become pretty efficient at his control of the ball and knew that people watched him as he went by. He liked the fact that people thought he was good at something and often got complimentary comments that he should one day become a professional basketball player.
So when he became suddenly confronted by a group of 4 older lads, Paul wasn't worried that they were staring at him and so weaved expertly past them, without looking either left nor right, keeping the ball closer to him but still bouncing it. The group of older lads could not fail to be impressed by the control the younger boy displayed, but they were not about to tell him that.
In fact they were actually spoiling for a fight, a bit of ridicule of the boy who was also so much smaller than they were. He also appeared to them anyway, to be a bit on the sulky side, somewhat of a loner who was out here on his own and who also had a dour miserable looking face.
Paul Simon was an easy target for a bit of foul play. Someone the group of lads could feel infinitely more powerful than. Someone who certainly wouldn't fight back either or even tell anyone about what they were about to do.
No this short, moody looking individual was going to be fun to make a fool of. They could really have a laugh with this one!
It was true however, Paul Simon was somewhat of a loner, preferring his own company rather than mixing with a lot of his other classmates. He actually only had a handful of friends whom he coincidentally, never really hung out with much. Occasionally he would suggest a ball game with them in which they readily agreed, for he was quite well liked and they enjoyed his sense of humour. Paul had a ready wit and often made people laugh but most of the time he would keep himself pretty much to himself.
He was also an excellent schooler, always handed his homework in on time and was extremely bright and clever. He was at the top of his class for many of his subjects. But this fact alone did not make him overly popular, especially with girls.
Paul worried about the fact that he didn't really seem to be growing at the same rate as the rest of his classmates. He was by now quite possibly the shortest boy in his class by a pretty long way. In fact he had always been very short for his age.
Paul Simon also had a mop of unruly dark brown hair and even darker funny looking eyebrows which made him appear worried looking all of the time.
This particular group of lads, of course knew of him. He was a year or two below them at school but they had seen him around. Paul had never done anything to them, they just thought it would be fun and amusement on their part to have a bit of a laugh at the younger, shorter boys expense. After all, he was on his own and looked a little bit weird to them. As well as his odd shaped eyebrows, sulky expression, chubby cheeks and his somewhat strange ability to be perfectly content with just bouncing a ball around, he was also very short.
Oh yes, Paul Simon was an easy target alright, for a group of bored bullies to have a little bit of fun with.
One of the bigger lads now suddenly stuck a foot out as Paul went past them, so that he tripped right over it. Another one then grabbed the ball off him.
Paul, at first seemed unperturbed and just moved to the side, away from them happy, at that moment to leave his ball behind.
If they wanted it that bad, then they could have it. He wasn't about to fight them over it.
But the group wanted a reaction. They wanted him to get angry or scared even. Just sidestepping away was not good enough for them, there was no fun in that!
So the one with the ball stepped in front of him and continued to bounce it before him, taunting him with it and laughing. Paul now stood and watched on with disinterest. This display of ball control was not half as good as what he could do. Nowhere near. The ball wasn't even getting as high and the lad frequently lost control of it.
Paul immediately found himself sighing at the incompetence and had had enough.
He went to move away.
"Going somewhere?". One of the other lads jeered.
"I have to get home now". Paul sulked, lowering his head to get past them, now deciding that Captain Marvel would have to wait for a different day and Eddie would just have to miss out on his candy treat.
"What? Home already? To your little mumsie wumsie, so that she can tuck you into your beddy weddy all ready for sleepy weepy". Another of the bullies taunted.
The short lad frowned at them all, as they started to gather themselves closer around him. He was totally aware that he was about to receive a jolly good hiding but couldn't understand why they felt the need to pick on someone like him, when all he'd done was to mind his own business and who was also a lot younger and shorter than any of them anyway.
Besides that, he'd never done anything to remotely provoke them into actually warrant being hit or even bullied in this way. He pretty much kept himself to himself and had liked it that way.
"Aw, I bet your mummy treats you like a little baby, coz you're so tiny". Another of them taunted.
"Yes, Of course he's mummy's little boy!". Another laughed. "Want to hold your mummy's hand and skip along beside her like a good little boy!".
The lad then began to do a funny little skip in front of Paul, going backwards and forwards and laughing as he then held his hands behind his back as he continued in this vain, whilst his mates laughed grotesquely at the antics before them.
But this did not get a single rise from the short, dark haired lad.
He'd heard it all so many times before. This was not the first time it had happened to him. The jibes and the taunts about his lack of inches had always been there. He had always been the smallest. To say he had got used to it however was a lie. He'd never get used to it. His lack of inches had always bothered him. It hurt, but he'd learnt to live with it, so why couldn't everyone else.
So he just stood there watching impassively at the antics going on all around him, the laughing and the ridicule made at his expense, just waiting for the chance to make a run for it and get home as fast as he could, before anything got out of hand. He also figured that if he didn't say or do anything, they could actually get bored with him, give his ball back and then let him go.
Of course he was hoping for the latter, so continued to stand there not saying a word and therefore not provoking them any further.
But the gang of lads weren't having any of that!
They wanted a reaction to their taunts, they wanted him to shout back at them, get riled and angry. They wanted him to fight back either verbally or physically, they didn't care which, they just wanted him to react.
So he was then shoved slightly on the shoulder of one of his assailants as they endeavoured to get him to take notice of them. Being ignored was not what they wanted. They needed him to get angry so they pushed at him again, sideways this time in an attempt to get him to react to their taunting. But again he said nothing and now decided to try and walk around them, desperate now, to get out of their way.
The lad with the ball, seeing this suddenly threw the big, heavy leather object straight at him, hitting Paul full on in the chest.
He winced.
"Come on you dumbo! Catch it then!". The lad yelled, as the ball rolled back towards him.
The boy now blinked big wetted eyes.
Being hit so hard by your own ball was humiliating and it really hurt too but, again he decided to ignore it and tried to walk away again.
The lads now followed him, dancing around him, name calling all the way down the sidewalk, jeering, laughing, poking at him.
"Come on shortie!". They laughed.
"Yeah, little man! What's the weather like down there!".
"Bet you're the first one to smell all the dog shit before anyone else, being so close to the ground and all!".
This still did not get a single flicker of attention from him, for now burying his head down low and shoving his hands deep inside his jacket pockets, he began to walk even more briskly.
Inside his head he was planning his escape route, he knew all the little alleyways and shortcuts. If he could just carry on walking down here for a bit further, without being stopped he would be able to run down the side of Smeetons alley and out onto the busier, more populated Street that would link him to the more suburban, higher class one that would lead to his home. The gang surely wouldn't follow him there, too many people for a start and also full of residents who wouldn't think twice about calling for the police if they saw any semblance of trouble. Especially by a gang of bullies going after a smaller boy, now all he had to do was get there!
But the taunts were getting angrier by the second, brought on by the fact that this small boy was not taking any notice of them.
Perhaps they should just give up.
This was no fun. He just wasn't defending himself at all.
They had his ball, in which he didn't seem to really care that they'd taken it off him so very easily and he wasn't even bothered about what they were saying to him either. All the taunts and name calling were having no effect at all.
They wanted a fight though, an argument, a reason to ridicule him further.
It would have been fun to see this little chap actually trying to fight them all.
But now it appeared that this small boy had won and they could not allow that.
So one of the bigger lads suddenly made a grab for Paul's jacket and swung it around so that Paul went with it, much to the amusement of the others.
Paul struggled to keep on his feet, but did manage to keep his balance long enough to then somehow wriggle himself out of it!
The lad was very surprised to now be left holding the jacket as Paul now stood there in his shirt sleeves.
"Oh, thought you'd escape from us did you?". The lad spat angrily.
Paul took a step backwards and feared that he'd also be losing his school blazer now, as well as his beloved basketball.
"So..... Let's see what he's got in his pockets then?". One of the others taunted, now dipping his hand inside one of the pockets.
Immediately he took out the chocolate bar and held it aloft like some sort of prize.
"Well look here! It's chocolate!". He then said, waving it around in front of the others.
"And look what I've found!". Another of the lads exclaimed,
"Two dollars! Wow last of the big spenders I'd say!". He then laughed and proceeded to put the money into his own pocket.
The lad holding the jacket was now unwrapping the chocolate bar with his teeth and when he had freed it from its wrapper he then took a hefty bite into it.
" Oh, this is good! ". He announced, chewing it with his mouth open right in front of Paul, making him feel quite sick.
Seeing that there was nothing else in the pockets he now carelessly threw the jacket back at Paul so that it landed on the floor at his feet.
Paul bent down to pick it up and in a last ditch effort to get the small boy to retaliate, one of the other boys suddenly and very quickly, snatched the baseball hat that Paul was wearing clean from off his head.
"What do we have here then!". He now taunted, "A New York Yankees hat, is that an attempt to try and make yourself look cool or something?".
Paul now looked in absolute horror that this had been taken off him so easily and his dark eyes darkened further when he saw the lad throwing it up into the air several times.
"Let's have it". Another lad yelled, suddenly seeing that the short lad was at last starting to retaliate.
"Give it back!". Paul suddenly shouted, in a voice that made the gang step back for a moment.
"Oh, hark at the tiny guy, daring to shout at us normal sized boys! Come on then........ Let's see what you've got!". One of them yelled.
They were at last happy now.
They had finally got his absolute full attention now.
The deep, dark brown eyes of Paul Simon had turned distinctly black with anger now and were glaring at each and every one of the gang.
The one who had first taken the hat now threw it towards one of the others, but it landed on the ground just in front of the small boy and before he could manage to bend down and pick it back up again, a foot had landed down heavily on top of it.
"I don't think so". Snarled the owner of the foot, as he pressed it down harder onto the cap and then began to twist his foot around, rubbing it further into the dirt.
The small boy suddenly now saw red.
He was furious.
The gang could take his ball from him, call him all the names they could possibly muster about his height, even push him around if they liked and steel his food and his money, but to disrespect The New York Yankees like that, well this was a definite No.
So in a quick flash of sheer unadulterated temper, the small boy pulled back a fist and connected it across the jaw of the lad who was stamping on the cap, before anyone had a chance to warn him.
It didn't worry him that this was the tallest and biggest lad out of the gang, or the one who looked the most meanest. This boy was showing so much disregard for a great baseball team, his baseball team! That he needed to be taught a lesson.
"What the hell......". The lad shrieked, holding onto the side of his face in sheer disbelief.
The small boy then bent down and picked up his cap with ease, dusting it off with a few short pats. He didn't feel particularly brave or even proud at what he had done. He just felt as if it needed doing. He of course knew that it really was only a cloth cap with a bit of writing on it, but it was what it represented to him that mattered. It was his team. The greatest baseball team of all time.
Throwing it to the ground and putting your foot on it was like doing it personally to his team and he was just not having any of that.
Paul was hoping that now this would be the end of it. The lad had made his point. They could keep his goddam ball if they wanted or hand it back. He didn't care which, as long as they left his beloved team out of it.
All of this had nothing to do with them.
This was his battle, to fight alone.
His shortness, his mop of dark unruly hair, his strange shaped eyebrows. This was stuff he'd ultimately have to deal with for the majority of his life. The self loathing about himself would come later on when his acute depression would hit.
But for the moment, he was constantly being made aware of the stuff that he could not do anything about. For a young boy, that was a mighty cross he somehow bare.
Paul now went to replace the cap back onto his head again, without giving any of the gang sufficient eye contact. He just wanted to go home now, to be left in peace, to be left alone like he'd always been. He never scouted friendships or even enemies for that matter. He just preferred his own company.
As he now went to move away, a sudden dull thump connected with his bottom lip with such tremendous force that it threw his head right backwards and made his feet wobble unsteadily.
"That's for daring to hit me". An angry voice followed.
And the small boy then realised that he'd been hit by the fellow who he'd caught on the jaw, the one who had stamped on his beloved Yankees hat. That didn't seem fair at all and as he begun to taste blood in his mouth the thought of a second retaliation abated.
He wasn't about to start brawling in the street just to satisfy their needs.
Reaching up he put the back of his hand up to his mouth and could feel his lip already beginning to swell.
He could have cried.
He wanted to, but thought better of it.
He didn't want to appear to be a cry baby along with everything else he had to endure.
So instead he swallowed hard, tasting the blood as he did so and feeling somewhat punished for something that he had no control over.
He now began to walk away from them, feeling their icy stares and hearing their despicable laughter as he continued to distant himself from them. With each step, he felt as if he was winning.
They weren't coming after him.
But the parting jibe they all made to him on that cold, cloudy midweek afternoon, would actually turn out to live with him forever.
"Serves you right for being so short".
They all hissed in unison.
The small boy felt a lump well up inside his throat, his legs felt heavy and his mouth really stung. But that didn't stop him from beginning to run.
Running away now as fast as his legs could actually carry him.