Mitchum

Two weeks ago I got a call from the incident manager at the elementary school. Apparently, a group of boys were calling the kiddo “hobo-phobic.” They thought they were calling him a homosexual. I attempted to follow this linguistic misunderstanding through, homosexual to homophobic to hobo-phobic? I don’t really know. Anyway, a lifeguard (aka playground monitor) overheard, and reported the boys to whomever you report these things to and the boys were sent to, and were interviewed by, the school’s incident manager. When the kiddo was interviewed, he was asked how it had made him feel and he replied, “Well I’m just not really sure why they think I’m afraid of poor people.” Which just goes to show that some 4th graders have a better grasp of vocabulary than others.

When the kiddo got home from school we had a talk about tolerance. I talked to him about what the boys had said, and what they may have meant, and how maybe they are afraid of people who are a little different. I told him it was very important to always try to be nice, even to people who are different than we are. Then I said, “Have I ever told you my Mitchum story?” To which the girl, who had been lurking in the other room, shouted, “Only a thousand times!” the kiddo, nodding his head, added, “We’ve all heard it.” and then he continued, “Besides, I know it doesn’t matter if people have different beliefs. I mean I’m Mormon and there is a girl in my class who’s Christian, and we’re still really good friends.” Which just goes to show that some 4th graders, despite their remarkable vocabulary, still have holes in their education.

So after explaining that Mormons are also Christians, I told the kids that they should be more grateful for the life lessons I so graciously bestow upon them. They did not agree with me, but following my own example, I remained tolerant of their misguided judgement.

The following weekend, Mr and I went on a day trip with my parents. Because my children were apparently no longer interested in my stories, and we had several hours to kill, I asked, “Hey, did I ever tell you my Mitchum story?” My parents said it didn’t sound familiar. I smirked, “Well then, buckle up.”

As I was preparing to start my 7th grade year, I looked at my supply list and noticed I needed to bring deodorant to P.E. I didn’t have any deodorant as I hadn’t really needed it yet, so I asked Mom for some. She went to the upstairs hall closet and pulled out a box of Mitchum.

“Wait, wait, wait,” my dad interrupted my story. “Your mom gave you my Mitchum?! That’s really expensive deodorant!”

“Oh it gets better,” Mr quipped. Apparently he’d also heard the story a time or two.

“No, no. I’m sure it was Lady Mitchum, right?” my mom interjected, and in unison Mr and I said, “No. No, it was not.”

I didn’t have any friends in P.E. so I got a locker away from everyone else in the class. I was fairly introverted and didn’t want to draw any attention to myself. One day after class I was standing in front of my lonely locker changing back into my regular clothes and putting on my Mitchum when a particularly rough looking girl walked by and saw me. She literally did a double take, stopped, and then walked right up to me.

“Are you a man?” she asked.

“Um...nooo…” I hesitantly replied.

“Then why are you using men’s deodorant? Is it just that you’re particularly smelly? Or are you secretly a man? Because, no one besides really smelly people and men would ever use Mitchum. So which is it?” I had no answer for her so she started laughing at me and hollering for everyone to come and see me using men’s deodorant.

In elementary school when people were mean to me, I would run and tell my sister who, being well respected at the school, would always take care of it. But I was in 7th grade now and my sister was in high school, so I was on my own.

While contemplating my impending doom, another very rough, but familiar looking girl came over--presumably to see what all the ruckus was about and join in on the torment. But to my surprise she didn’t join in. Instead, she turned to the girl making fun of me and threatened, “You better shut the hell up, and if you ever bother her again my boyfriend and I will beat the shit out of you.” She was obviously the alpha tough girl, so ego bruised, my bully left with her tail between her legs.

“Um, thanks?” I said confused, but relieved.

“It's fine. You’re cool” she replied, “but you might want to think about getting new deodorant.” Then she left.

My dad interrupted again and puzzled he said, “I just don’t understand why anyone would care that you used Mitchum. It's really good deodorant.”

“Well I’m sure it smelled kind of musky...” Mr said.

“Oh no! Not my Mitchum. I only buy the unscented kind.”

Anyway....

It just so happened that the girl who said I was cool had been in my 4th/5th combination class at in Elementary. I was in 4th grade and she was in 5th. That was a really weird year for me. It was a year where I was literally friends with EVERYONE in my class. Even the tough girl who sat in the corner by herself a lot.

I use this story a lot because it has several morals.

Moral 1: You should try to be nice to everyone because you never know when you’ll need them to threaten a bully.

Moral 2: My dad is right. No one should care what deodorant you use, so chose whatever deodorant you want. Just be forewarned, kids can be jerks, so be prepared to defend your decision.

Reflecting on my previous conversation with the kiddo and the girl, as well as my recounting of the story to my parents, I realized there is another moral here:

Moral 3: In the immortal words of DJ Jazzy Jeff and the Fresh Prince, “Parents just don’t understand.”