11 Secret Things (Until Now) That I Am Not Proud Of

Okay. This is how it's going to happen

I am going to come clean with you, my cherished-friends and followers on HubPages. This isn't a new gig for me. I have, in the past, confessed to "some" things in my past life as a kid and teenager, but never "THESE" things.

Am I happy about confessing these 11 things? No.

Will I be a better person for confessing these 11 things? No.

So why do it? Easy answer. This hub makes two that I have written today, July 8, 2013, and for me, this is a milestone due to my illnesses, Accelerated Fibromyalgia and Neurothopy both acting-up on me in the weeks past.

Today, Our Loving Maker, in His infinite compassion and mercy, allowed me to have the time, ideas, and a mild (not harsh) pain level that allowed me to write these two hubs.

"But, Kenny," you say. "It's just two hubs. Is this a big deal with you?"

"Yes," I replied pridefully. And I would reply the same way if it had been a week into the future and the same God blessed me in the same ways.

11 Secret Things (Until Now), That I Am Not Proud Of

1.) Biting my pet puppy, "Sandy," when I was a kid. Well, he snapped at me, so I gave him a "taste of his own medicine." No wonder he ran away.

2.) Telling my parents a bold-face lie when I lost my class ring in 1971. I had sneaked-off to go swimming with some buddies in a river near our neighborhood and not thinking, I wore my class ring. When I jumped into the currents, off came my class ring and $68-hard-earned money my parents had spent on the prized-piece of jewelry for me. But my bold-face lie was I was chasing some of our chickens out of our produce garden and the ring flew off my finger. I confessed two months later. And was grounded for five months.

3.) Using a deep voice I chased two elderly people off of our "party line" in 1967 just so I could call my girlfriend. Well, she was my first love, so I was using my heart, not my head.

4.) Telling an ex-girlfriend (and believe me. I wanted her to be my "ex" since our third date) that smoking was "good" for a man's sex life. To seal the deal, I used the old "read it in a magazine in my family doctor's office," routine. This was in 1973. She had made me give up smoking and I wasn't one to take orders from a bossy girlfriend. Since those stupid years, I have learned that SMOKING IS HAZAROUS TO YOUR HEALTH.

5.) Convincing an old man named, "Hamp," who lived near us in 1968 that my mother had sent me to "borrow" a dollar. Of course he handed the buck to me with great pleasure. "Hamp" had a big heart, and I had a big yearning for a soda that was sold in our neighborhood country store. "Hamp" or the country store are no longer around, so I guess I am wasting a confession, but my conscience is clear. I've often wondered why I didn't ask for five dollars.

6.) Telling a curious girl who called my house looking for me that "there's no Kenneth who lives here," because my pals and I wanted to simply "love 'em and leave 'em," but "I" was the one who gave her my own phone number. I was thankful for my mom and dad both not being at home. Oh, and yes, my deep voice paid off again.

7.) Crashing a company Christmas party and telling the employees that "I" worked in the mail department and seldom came upstairs. Well, they all were pretty much "three sheets in the wind," and so was I, so what harm did a lie and six more beers do me? Anyway this was in 1983. "That" business is still around in my hometown, but I'd bet that none of those guys who were at that Christmas party has never let the thought of me standing there at their coolers sucking-down their beer and acting like I belonged there.

8.) Forging my own excuse to go home from school one winter afternoon. This was when I first got my driver's license and our high school principal, Joe L. Sargent, his real name, rest his soul, was up in years and I had mastered my mother's handwriting, so off to my house I drove--leaving a few buddies steaming with anger because I didn't take them with me. What did they take me for, a "corporate liar?"

9.) Asking my sixth-grade teacher, Mrs. Lena Dozier her real name, and rest her soul, to tell us (when I was in her room in 1966), we wanted to hear about her trip to Mexico a few summers ago. You see, each of her classes would pass this priceless information down to the next class: "if you want to have a free period, get Mrs. Dozier to talk about her trip to Mexico," and she will talk and talk and you won't have to work. Okay. I am a "softie." I apologize to you, Mrs. Dozier. I really mean it.

10.) Telling another "ex" when she called me, "hey, I am busy with James, J.G., Allan, Steve and David. We are working on our songs for when we are good enough to play at dances." Of course I was telling a lie about my buddies and I having a rock band, but now I wonder. Who was worse? Me for telling this girl I had a rock band, or her for believing it since my buddies and I were only in the eighth-grade. I am still not proud of this.

11.) Playing a painful joke on my dad whom I thought loved a good joke. When he came in from work, his ritual was to always sit his lunch box on the kitchen table, pull off his shoes and grab his favorite chair and relax from his day of labors. But on a "certain" day, he was in for a big surprise. I took one of my mom's safety pins and bent it until the sharp point stuck upward and I placed it securely in his chair and waited for the fun to begin. And today I am still waiting. I tell you. I have never seen my dad that angry in my whole life. Dad, I apologize. I am not laughing anymore . . .

I am too busy missing you.