Rites of Passage into American Malehood

If I ever tell you that I'm bored I give you permission to sock me a good one in the ribs. Since moving into our new community, I have realized two things: 1. All things are possible. 2. Boredom is not an option here. All one must do is to stick one's head out of one's door, and there before you is an organic story, ever unfolding, day and night.

Today has been no exception. I just gave my first pep talk to a young lad who had endured the ageless custom of circumcision this afternoon. Up until this point in my life I've never known a human male who was old enough to describe the discomfort of the procedure.

M & I came back from a quick shopping trip and were going to run up the stairs to our second story suite when a lovely neighbor lady who lives under the stairs (not literally... her door opens beneath the stair way) waved hello. Naturally, I waved back & said a big hearty, "Howdy Friends!" to her & her little great nephew, who looked to be all of four years old, and who also looked pantsless. As if to explain her little boy's au natural appearance from the belt down, she quipped, "Little boy just got circumsized today. Won't let nobody touch him." Half-way up the stairs by this point, and looking through the steps, I inquired, "Um, isn't he a tad bit old for that?" She shrugged and replied, "he was a premie, and they wouldn't do it until now...." Having nothing to say to that, I looked at the little boy in his appropriately red shirt. He wore nothing else but a frown and a look about his face which screamed "aint nobody touching me ever again, punks". Inwardly questioning the sanity of our culture, and hoping to tap into this small male's injured masculine psychy, I hollered down, "It's gonna be alright, buddy. We all make it through it. You're gonna be fine." And I know he will be... in time. We all get over it, right guys? Right? And now if you'll excuse me, you'll find me weeping silently in the corner.