Artwork by Carly Silverman, MICA 06
“Mothers Day at The Orphanage” is collection of semi-autobiographical short stories about odd jobs, fake businesses, mistaken identities, close shaves, and near misses, written by David Leigh Abts and Michael Shattuck, edited by Leslie Blodgett, and with the Foreword by Courtney Taylor-Taylor. It’s also a collaboration with guest NYC authors and Baltimore/D.C. artists – a chance for a bunch of friends who dig each other’s creative work to get together and put something out, and asks the following burning questions: Has Art Garfunkel ever taken your put-put club? Was Michael Jackson the focus of your middle school science fair project? Have you ever tried to coax a moth out of your ear with a lamp? Enjoy an excerpt below:
Fluffing the Resume
Each year at Cockeysville Middle we are encouraged to dress up in a series of themed learning experiences. I size up the other kids and am determined that my costume will be the best.
That year we take a field trip from Baltimore County all the way to Ellis Island, New York, to see what the opening scene to Schindler’s List looks like first-hand.
We are to reenact the immigration process, dressed up as little immigrants.
But like a yahoo I forget to mention the costume portion of the assignment to my parents, so I’m scrambling to come up with something the morning of. I pull together my Mom’s afro wig; a red, white, and blue striped jacket that belongs to my dad; an elephant trunk nose; and my Tom Cruise Ray-Bans. Basically I look like a Starlight Express reject.
The Towson Times, a newspaper eventually consumed by the Baltimore Sun, has come along on our trip. The other children are decked out in replica caps and scarves sewn lovingly by their parents or vintage attire passed on to them by relatives whom are no longer with us. But when the headline comes out—“Cockeysville Middle’s Ellis Island Day”—the paper chooses a shot of me enter- ing America dressed like the Jackson Five on a roller rink tour.
***
My chance to redeem myself comes on Halloween. This year it’s mostly Miss Piggys and Kermit the Frogs. I have no idea why. I come in as Paul Reuben, and this time my ensemble is right on the mark: a bow-tie and handcuffs. He’s just been busted for indecent exposure at a movie theater in Sarasota, Florida.
The theater has since been torn down, and there’s no brass memorial or plaque to commemorate what happened. But it was huge! It was all over the news! Hell’s bells.
They make us parade around the school in our outfits. I like to think most people thought it was funny. The homeroom teacher doesn’t get it, and the principal has to pull me aside. His voice taking on a fatherly lilt, he explains what masturbation is and why it’s not funny, and what’s a kid like me doing with a bow-tie and handcuffs anyway?
Wellll… my parents had used it at their Halloween party the week before.
These days you can find and buy this costume on the Internet.
***
There is a day set aside as “Career Day.” Students are asked to pick what we want to be when we grow up and then dress up for that career. As vocationally-minded 8th graders, my best friend Dutch and I decide to be flashers. (2)
(2) Skip ahead to more imminently discover what becomes of Dutch and me, but placing the footnote here is meant to save you, the reader, from the Foster Wallace shuffle. Dutch was my best friend growing up. He’s currently gunning for his PhD at a fancy East Coast school and I sincerely hope this story will not jeopardize his candidacy.
Part 2: Never mind
The thing is, flashing—a form of exhibitionism—covers a wide range of practices, like streaking and mooning, and shows up everywhere from Mardi Gras to C-SPAN. Public displays of nudity can be celebratory, political (think Pussy Riot), or just because (Happy Valley). Yet society’s touchstone flasher is a leering monster forcing his nudity upon unwitting, virginal bystanders. Whether this portrayal of the practice has ever indeed occurred is an historical matter; but like the Welfare Queen or Jesus of Nazareth, it’s logged in our collective image bank and makes things dicey for schoolchildren just out for a laugh. Certainly, to mock persons that suffer from apodysophilia was never Dutch and I’s intent. The whole thing was more in the vein of “Expose Yourself To Art.” (3)
***
The costume does take some preparation. The morning of the big day, I take my father’s London Fog raincoat from his closet undetected. I get to school to find Dutch has secured his as well. We brush off questions from other students about our costumes until class starts.
Everyone in homeroom has to take their turn showing off their costume and explaining why they chose it. When it’s our turn to share, Dutch and I put on Tom Cruise Ray- Bans and flash the class, our Speedos stuffed with tissues.
We’re a hit! Even the teacher doesn’t stifle his laugh. We replay the shtick throughout the day, but the lunch lady is not amused. This is not your Adam Sandler lunch lady, either. Her name is Beth and she’s young enough for some of the kids to think she’s von hotties. But she expected middle schoolers to have better taste than that, and she wants blood. So she grabs us and hauls us to the principal’s office.
The principal has a taste for old-fashioned shenanigans; in his office on the walls he has pictures featuring Charlie Chaplin, Laurel and Hardy, and all the Golden-Age stars. We’re not expecting any fallout. But then comes a splash of cold water: Beth has a relative that was jailed for flashing.
The principal has to do something. So he opens a line on speakerphone and calls the emergency number they have on file for Dutch’s parents. It’s his mom’s work number. She works in a county law firm.
She answers with, “Hi, thanks for joining us.”
“Hi, this your son’s principal, calling to let you know for Career Day, your son came to middle school as a flasher.” We hear a click and she whisper-yells, “I’m in the middle of a conference call. Dutch, you’re in big trouble.”
Beth sees that business is being taken care of and returns to the cafeteria.
Not wanting a repeat performance the principal lets me call home, but I get the machine. So I leave a message: “Mom, I got in trouble at school today.”
We have to change into our gym clothes for the rest of the day.
***
When I get home, I see that there are still messages on the machine. The phone rings and it’s my Mom. And like a genius I ask if she got the message. She hasn’t, but what happened? So I give her the CliffsNotes.
She’s at the Club doing happy hour. She says, “Put on your suit and forget about it. See you at the pool.”
Dutch is grounded for a month. He still gets in to Princeton.
***
(3) See https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Expose_Your-self_to_Art#Reaction. The guy who arguably set the tone for this stunt ran for Mayor of Portland. No joke.
