Grudges

Grudges dating back to our teen years are the most intense. It's been nearly fifty years but I still resent that Sandra Dee look-alike who wouldn't give me the time of day back in 9th grade. I still wonder at the evil motive behind my 10th grade English teacher not recommending me for AP English. I'd still like to get back at that muscle-bound jerk who nearly tossed me into a trash barrel in 11th grade. I cannot bring myself to root for a football team that carries red and white colors after our rival beat us on Thanksgiving, senior year wearing those colors.

Not holding grudges may be a sign of maturity. I certainly suffered more fools in the military and in Corporate America than I did in high school, but resentment doesn't linger in the same way.

An obituary in yesterday's paper made all my grudges seem trivial. Tomiko Hoffman, age 81. passed away. A survivor of the Hiroshima A-bomb blast, she married a US Air Force guy after the war, became a US citizen, and raised a family here.

Ponder this. Tomiko was 16 years old when the US Air Force obliterated her home town killing nearly everyone and everything she had ever known. 16 is a difficult age. Physically mature, but emotionally undeveloped, it must be most traumatizing stage of life to witness something like a nuclear attack. Tomiko overcame that.

Sandra, Miss Raub, muscle-bound jerk, and Scranton Tech HS, it took fifty years, but I'm over it. I'll never hold a grudge again.