I don’t know why I thought it was a good idea to make fun of Shawn Davolt.
It was the summer of 1976, between sixth and seventh grade and my best friend at the time, Brian Griset decided to antagonize a big eight grader, Shawn Davolt. Davolt was big, quiet, and a little odd. He looked like Buddy Repperton from the movie Christine. Look it up. When I watched the movie, Buddy freaked me out more than the Plymouth Fury did.
Brian had a penchant for finding trouble. In the rare moments he didn’t, trouble seemed to find him. As his friend, I was always along for the ride. And the consequences.
My best friend Brian. Then and in 2010. Just before he passed away.
The razzing of Shawn Davolt culminated at what was the middle school equivalent of vacation bible school, known as Summer Smashup. Shawn decided to retaliate. The middle school group was in the church sanctuary for the opening of Summer Smashup. Shawn was sitting behind me. I felt him put something in my hair. It was a wad of pink chewing gum. When I touched it, it got stuck in my hand. I wiped it on the seat. Years later, and probably still today, you’ll find that little piece of gum squashed into the seat cushion. I knew this meant my mom would have to cut that entire section out of my head when I got home. I was angry. I planned my retaliation.
When we went outside for our small group, that was my opportunity. I was methodically picking the gum out of my hair, wadding it into a small ball. I walked over to where Shawn was sitting and stuck it in his hair. He stood up and towered over me. He began shoving me.
That’s when time stood still.
As I stood there, taking his shoves, I saw the perfect opportunity to land a big right hand right on the side of his face. I remember wanting to swing as hard as I could, but what if it just made him madder? What if I missed? It was happening in both fast and slow motion.
Then, with the sun shining in my eyes, I swung my right hand. Feebly. It was almost like when the “Ex-Wife” missile bounced off the chest of Mickey Rourke’s character in Iron Man 2. It bounced of Shawn’s chin and infuriated him. He started shoving me harder, and then the counselors mercifully stepped in and broke it up.
From that point on, I watched my back. Eventually things simmered down and soon Shawn and his family left the church and I never saw him again.
But I’ve replayed that scene in my head thousands of times over the years. In the dream version, I time that right hand just perfectly. In some versions, he collapses like a big bag of garbage. In others, when I hit him, his head flies off his shoulders, just like what happened my brother and I would punch the Styrofoam busts my mom would hang her wigs on when we were little.
In no scenario does the real thing happen. In my imagination, Shawn Davolt is stopped once and for all.
This is only one of many incidents I’ve thought about over the years. In most of them, I had an opportunity to change things but was either intimidated, afraid, or was too uncertain to do anything. In hindsight, the right action is always clear. The reality though is that reality isn’t clear at all.
We operate from a place of triggered emotion. Rational thought doesn’t compute. And sometimes when we have a golden opportunity to fix things, our courage leaves us, and we do nothing. Or throw a half-hearted right hand that just makes everything worse.
I wonder if there’s a way to spend a split second telling yourself in one of those moments that your next move will be one you think about for the rest of your life? A way to prompt yourself to do the hard, difficult, uncomfortable, painful, risky, frightening thing so you won’t spend a lifetime regretting your lack of action.
Probably not. But now that we know about this, maybe we begin mentally programming ourselves to take the long-term view. My incident with Shawn Davolt makes for an entertaining story, but my lack of action has bothered me most of my adult life. Knowing that, I might be more inclined to take that important action.
What about you?