Volume 2, Number 8
April 15,1996
A column by Ed Rochelle
Walking TallI was lulled into a false sense of security while growing up. As if I was the only one. I'm referring to the fact that I was one of the tallest boys in my class. Ever since kindergarten, we were told to line up in size places. It was always a fight between me and 'Totsie" as to who was the tallest. We never counted Fred because he was a nerd. He just wasn't part of the contest as he was at least a head tall than us and 'geeky' looking. He was never invited to the parties and would go off in the corner and cry if we teased him. It was always between 'Totsie' and me. It somehow felt that whoever held the coveted title of tallest would get all the accolades. It almost seemed as if I had something to do with how tall I was. You know, like eating what my mother told me to would help me attain and keep the title.I always remember the opening of school after the summer break. All throughout July and August, I would attempt to keep track of my growth. I became a family pest with the questions, to all who would listen and respond, "Do you think I grew this summer?". One of the duties of the tallest was to be able to go to the roof of the school, during class and clean the erasers. What a prized job it became. We would tease each other if not given, what seemed like the honor. The eighth grade was the best as we were not only the oldest in the school, we were head and shoulders over most of the kids as we walked the playground and classrooms. At times it gave me the feeling of being better than the shorter kids. Needless to say, I received my comeuppance upon entering the hallowed halls of high school. In those teenage years, most juniors and seniors were taller than the freshmen. It was a real disappointment loosing the status I so rightfully earned in elementary school. I got so used to the feeling that I was sure it would be a part of my life. I would always be the 'big guy'. The experience of realizing that I was taller than my Dad, was at first, devastating. I always expected my father to be taller than me and when I found out that it was no the case anymore, I was angry at him. He had a hell of a nerve to let me get taller than him. Why was I angry? I didn't know to many years later. It made me feel like I lost a sense of security. As long as he was able to look down at me, it felt like he would take care of me. I was angry that I had to take care of myself, from then on. Of course, he and I never spoke of this problem he gave me. By the time I graduated college, my height was a part of my personality. I was the 6 footer and that always carried with it some measure of respect. Don't ask me why. As my kids were growing up, my being tall seemed to add to the image I carried. They were proud of their tall daddy. I almost was angry at my son when he started his growth spurt. He was fast nearing the stature where we would talk to each other, eyeball to eyeball. At first I was proud of his height as if I had some conscious control. Like I did something to make him tall. Well, not only is he taller than me now, he isn't angry about it. I asked him and he looked at me as if I were from Mars. I couldn't imagine that he wouldn't feel like I did towards my dad. Not only is he taller than I, I have to look up to him to talk eyeball to eyeball now. I guess I'll have to look elsewhere for some of my self esteem from now on, other than my height. In fact I have a strange feeling that I am getting shorter as I get older . Nobody ever told me that I wouldn't be tall forever. How Come?
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