{"id":16313,"date":"2021-02-28T02:18:05","date_gmt":"2021-02-28T07:18:05","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.mentordiscoverinspire.org\/2021\/02\/28\/my-first-circle-jamie-scott-david-and-steve\/"},"modified":"2025-04-17T12:52:19","modified_gmt":"2025-04-17T16:52:19","slug":"my-first-circle-jamie-scott-david-and-steve","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.mentordiscoverinspire.org\/my-first-circle-jamie-scott-david-and-steve\/","title":{"rendered":"My First Circle – Jamie, Scott, David and Steve"},"content":{"rendered":"\n
James Anthony Ellis<\/strong>\nLegacy Editor<\/strong><\/pre>\n\n\n\n
Let’s see – it was Jamie, Scott, David and Steve.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
And Mike and Mike. And Clete, Billy and Ruben. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
And a number of cameos from other boys, playing extras in this movie we were making. Called life. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
We didn’t think of it as “life” though. We didn’t think of it as anything. It just was there, because we were: on the playground at recess, on the playground at PE, on the playground after school. In the alley after school. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
The alley is where we would have the fights. At least that’s where one angry kid would tell another kid to go after school. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
“Meet you in the alley after school!” was the challenge. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
“OK!” was the normal rough and gruff response.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Though I only recall one scuffle over there, this alley trash-talk would stand – along with all the games, bike rides, practical jokes, laugh attacks, mishaps and lessons – as a symbol of a childhood complete with a cast of characters that would constitute my first “circle of men.” <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Men in training. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Jamie, Scott, David and Steve, Mike and Mike. And Clete, Billy and Ruben. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Boys at the start. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Robinwood School in Huntington Beach, CA – it started around kindergarten, maybe a little before. That’s when the circle grew. And it all grew naturally. We didn’t need any announcements about a men’s circle, or an e-mail, Facebook post or flyer. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
We didn’t even need an invitation.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
It just sort of happened. Because we were there. And it’s what happens with boys. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
They naturally lean towards each other for reasons invisible and unspoken. Throwing words at it would result in terms like “camaraderie,” “fun,” “challenge,” “growth.” But we would never admit to these, since the truth goes beyond words.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
It was all taking place while we grew from boys to young men – embarrassing new haircuts covered by ball-caps, pretending to not like girls, marble collecting, baseball card collecting, making paper airplanes, participating in paper airplane competitions. And then of course the games. Pickle, dodge-ball, red rover, hide and go seek, basketball, kickball, soccer (we played where we could use your hands), and – yes I’ll say it – smear the queer. Holy moly – we played a lot of games. And they mattered too. I recall getting all red and upset when losing any of the playground games. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Though a couple girls may have played a couple times, I mostly remember the girls playing “horses” and some other stuff that was a total mystery to us. Not bad, not good, just different – and a mystery. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
My little gang of boys would do our own thing. <\/p>\n\n\n\n