Glad I Was an Ugly Child, Part I

Growing up can be tough. I remember that there were plenty of TV shows to remind me of this as I aged: Different Strokes, The Wonder Years, Family Ties and more. Many of these programs recycled the same predictable plots and dealt with familiar coming of age issues like bullies, drugs and finding first love. Something that these shows didn’t really touch on was growing up as an ugly little kid. From Kevin Arnold to “What you talkin’ bout” Arnold, all the young people in these shows were at least cute back in the day.

Almost by definition, many kids did in fact grow up ugly. I should know, because I was one of them. This isn’t fishing for compliments. This is mainly my reaction to photos of my youth; it’s hard to argue with empiric evidence like that. It didn’t help that my parents were always telling me how handsome I was while they dressed me in clothes that the Salvation Army wouldn’t accept as a donation. Mainly for little boys, it’s also true that many of these ugly children are also not the most athletic. In my case I was short and exceptionally frail. This combination of ugly facial attributes, out of date clothes and complete lack of athletic talent led to a rough upbringing.

At least I wasn’t alone; many of my friends growing up were also unattractive and bad at sports. Incidentally, almost all of my friends were also Jewish, which further isolated us from the rest of the school. Then one day something happened that would literally set us aside from our classmates. Turns out my friends and I did very well on the state IQ tests and the 7 or 8 of us were put in “Special” math and reading classes with different books and everything. Intelligence is no doubt a multifactorial trait with genetics, upbringing and many other features interacting. But I really think that my friends and I were pushed, or in the least nudged in this direction as direct consequence of our ugliness.

Ugliness was the main reason we felt isolated from our peers and it was one of the reasons we found each other in the first place. It makes sense that ugliness enhanced our introversion. We weren’t chasing girls, as they would have nothing to do with us. And we didn’t excel at any of the accepted sports (does Ping Pong count?). But damn we were good at pre-algebra. That’s where most of our focus was concentrated. It wasn’t just about studying either. We developed deep, lifelong interests in a diverse range of subjects from art and music to chemistry and electronics. Luckily we had each other so we could discuss these things and learn from one another. The athletic and attractive kids had no such company.

I’d like to think that at some point Brendan Doyle, the quarterback of my HS football team, picked up T.S. Eliot’s The Waste Land after a scrimmage and contemplated the futility of mankind. Instead I’m sure he spent that time honing his skills at throwing a leather ball with great accuracy and speed. Perhaps that skill, throwing the leather ball, will be of huge utility at some stage of life. Maybe in a different state of life altogether, like at the gates of heaven if you have to hit a moving target at 30 yards with a football I’m most certainly hell bound. I have no idea what Brendan Doyle does now, but I bet it has nothing to do with football. And I bet he still hasn’t read The Waste Land. Which is ironic, given the title and what I imagine he’s done with the past 30 years.