I don’t know if I should tell you this story, but then again I’m the sort of person who just can’t keep a secret for too long. This is a true story of my childhood in a home in which I was the only whirlwind of trouble and trial to my parents. When I was a boy between the ages of four to eight-years old I drove my mother bonkers.
I recently read several articles about Indigo Children and how to recognize them.
I see all of my personal traits contained in what makes up an Indigo Child.
1.) Strong willed
3.) Creative in the arts
4.) An “Old Soul”
7.) Altruistic, possess a deep desire to help the world in a big way
8.) Values honesty in friendships; seeks deep lasting friendships
9.) Has a great appreciation for solitude
10.) Have a very strong self image and a higher sense of self-worth
I wish all children shared these traits, sadly it is not the case.
When I was around thirteen-years old my dear Native American grandmother told me a story that really rocked my world.
She told me that when my mother was pregnant with me she put her hand on my mother’s stomach and she told me she felt me. She told me it was as if an electric charge shot through her entire body. She claimed to have jumped back.
She told my mother I was a boy and that I was a “Star Child” which in her mind was that I had a special purpose on earth. My mother did not know at the time whether I was a boy or a girl.
When I had this talk with my grandmother she knew at the time I wanted to be a movie actor and she knew I was going to go out to Hollywood. So she told me sternly that I should not wait on some white man to tell me that I was a Star.
She told me I was a “Star Child” and that my star was not something anyone could give to me, but rather it is what God gave me. She told me when I go out to Hollywood I go out as a Star.
And when I did go out to Hollywood that is exactly how I carried myself.
Before that talk with my most beloved grandmother, my mother often told me she did not believe I was her son.
She told me 1,000 times or more that she believed they switched babies at the hospital. My mother would joke and tell people that I was from another planet. I never thought the joke was funny; so what I did not behave as other kids my age. My mother also told me hundreds of times how obnoxious I was, she went as far as telling me I was the most obnoxious little boy she had ever seen. Regardless I kept my self-esteem very high, because after all my Native American grandmother told me I was a “Star Child”… I was most perplexing to my mother so much in fact that she took me to see a psychiatrist. The doctor told my mother I was not crazy, but in fact I had a very high IQ.
He told my mother that I knew even though I was a child I was in fact smarter than her.
He asked my mother did I always get my way with my dad and siblings and she told him I did.
The doctor told my mother there was nothing for her to worry about and just accept the fact your son is a border line genius. My father knew who I was but my mother was always trying to reject my intellectual powers and my psychic powers that are real.
Today if my phone rings I already know who’s on the line.
When my door bell rings I know who’s at the door.
I have seen angels posing as “Homeless” traveling through.
Should I stand next to a evil person or someone hateful I get sick to my stomach.
The morning of 911 I woke up sick to my stomach and I could not leave my house I knew something horrible was going to happen.
Yes, I am an Indigo Child.
Today when I reflect back I realize now I was a very mischievous boy.
Today I have the greatest gratitude for mothers everywhere who somehow keep their sanity despite
the years of trial by sons who live to be mischievous and incorrigible. The one word mother often used to tag me was obnoxious. All during my childhood years I never really knew what the word obnoxious meant. I first learned what the word meant when I first met my ex-wife, no, no, no, this is not to say she was obnoxious—but rather she too used the word to tag me all through our marriage.
A thousand times mother would put her hands on her hips, shake her head from right to left and say,
“Charlie, you are the most obnoxious little boy in the world…really, sometimes, sometimes, I think they gave me the wrong baby at the hospital.”
I stayed in trouble with my mother, like the time I peed in my older brother’s rubber boots.
Or the time, I poured a whole bottle of Cod Liver Oil in the Iced-Tea.
At seven years of age I stepped up my game because I discovered from my father the power of rhetoric.
My father being a Constitutional lawyer and always watching him prepare for some big argument at home in his study.
I learned that the right words, said right could help you get out of getting the crap beaten out of you by mother. Father never engaged in corporal punishment; mother, she would make one’s behind feel like fire. I was a difficult kid to manage even at school, I was hard on teachers esp.substitute teachers.
One time we had a substitute teacher and it was early Spring; flowers were in bloom and their sweet scent held strong in the air. It was 9:00 A.M. the school bell rang and we all sat at our desk; the boys in the class threw spit balls from paper at each other, we also would stick our hand under an armpit and flap it hard to make a farting sound.
Once we settled down the substitute teacher would pass around a single sheet of paper and ask each of us to sign his or her name. I snickered as handed the sheet over to Penny who sat in front of me.
Penny quickly blurted, “Ooooh! Charlie!”
I put my finger to my lip signaling Penny to be quiet; she totally ignored me.
The substitute teacher, Miss Miles looked over at me for a quick moment then she went back to writing on the blackboard. Minutes later Miss Miles began to roll call our names from the sheet of paper she handed out. Miss Miles called out for “Dick Hertz” no one answered, she called out for him again, still no one in the class answered and when she called out the third time for “Dick Hertz” everyone in the class burst out laughing.
Miss Miles quickly called me to the front of the room and soon I found myself walking down the hall to the principal’s office. Strangely, I found myself taken in by the lovely perfume Miss Miles wore.
The aroma of her perfume was quite beautiful; I wondered, was it Estee Lauder, Givenchy, Chanel.
I inhaled deeply and realized it definitely was not Estee Lauder because that was what mother wore.
I assumed it was Chanel. Just as I went to take in another deep breathe of her lovely perfume I was greeted by a frowning Mr. Watson, our school’s principal.
Mr. Watson had already spoken to my father, who was on his way to pick me up, now that was expelled from school.
In the car, with father I quickly looked at my watch, realizing I did not have much time to turn father over to my side. The only thing that gave me a glimmer of hope was the fact that my father was a Constitutional Lawyer; surely he would appreciate my rhetoric. My mind was racing how to form my argument to father on why mother should not be allowed to beat the crap out of me once I got home.
The first thing I did was ask father if he would turn off the radio. The Jazz music was really interfering with my concentration. So very politely I said,
“Father, would you please cut off the radio, I need to talk to you.”
To my surprise, father turned the radio off.
“Father, can I explain to you what happened at school?”
My father smiled and said,
“Sure Charlie, tell me your side of the story.”
I took my time.
“Father, I know, I really know I was wrong…what I did was wrong.
See, father, I was bored and seeking some levity.”
Father stopped me after the word levity.
“Charlie! You know what the word levity means?”
I looked up at father.
“Levity- means light in weight, frivolity, folly, fun and or silliness.”
Father beamed with pride.
“Charlie, I must say, I am impressed; so go on son, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“Father, I was simply trying to bring a little fun to my fellow classmates and so, instead of writing my name , I wrote in the name, “DICK HERTZ.”
Father began to chuckle.
“Father, I never said a bad word, I never had intent of malice toward anyone, I simply had the desire to bring momentary joy, levity, lightness if you will to my fellow classmates.”
My father pulled the car over.
“Charlie, I totally understand your motive–you wanted to make your friends laugh.
Your mother on the other hand is not going to find this humorous at all; in fact, she may decide to beat the crap out of you.”
I chimed in quickly.
“Father, surely you being a Constitutional Lawyer understand I do have the right of free speech.
My First Amendment right is at play here.
Father and further more, I never engaged in criminal activity, I simply misrepresented myself for the purpose of levity.
Father I would appreciate if you would remind mother of the 1st Amendment of our Constitution.”
My father burst out laughing.
“Charlie, you know full well your mother does not listen to anything I say.”
I looked down at my watch realizing in the next nine minutes I would be standing before mother.
I pleaded with father to stand up to mother on my behalf.
“Father, in the Bible, in the Bible it states clearly in Genesis 2:21
“And the Lord God caused Adam a deep sleep to fall on Adam, and he slept; and God took one of his ribs which was used to make Eve.”
Father, my point here is, mother must listen to you, she must obey you, you are her husband and she, should always listen to you. That’s in the Bible.”
My father was silent as we pulled into the driveway.
“Charlie, I’d really like to help you son, but your mother has a mind of her own, Charlie, I’m not gonna lie to you son, I think your mother is gonna beat the crap out of you.”
Slowly I got out of the car and slowly did I follow my father into the house, as we walked into the kitchen mother was waiting for us. Mother had her hands on her hips; she looked at me and asked father.
“Well, what did he do now?”
Father began to laugh.
Mother shook her head.
“Well, what did Charlie do now!”
My father seemed to be enjoying this moment too much for my taste.
My father’s body shook with laughter and he told my mother to ask me what I said that got me expelled from school.
My mother walked over to me like Clint Eastwood does in the Cow Boy movies when he’s about to punch a guy out. My mother squinted her eyes just like Clint Eastwood and said to me,
“WHAT-DID- YOU- DO- YOUNG- MAN?”
I put my hands up, showing mother the palms of both hands.
“Mother! May I remind you of the 1st Amendment of our Constitution?”
My mother shouted in my ear.
“WHAT DID YOU DO!”
“Mother, I. I. it was, just a moment of levity…OK, OK, I said,
I, I, I said, my name was Dick Hertz.”
My mother threw her hands up in the air in exasperation and said,
FIRST AMENDMENT: Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech.