Book Club Membership in 1986

Back in 1986, I barely spoke or read English. I had just docked into American waters oblivious to signs and newspaper articles. The inevitable sense of doom was overwhelming. I was 11 years old and I pretty much felt like I sucked at everything. Add to that, the inability to communicate in the native tongue, and you can bet your ass I was concerned. I didn’t even know what ‘fuck you' meant. Sixth grade came and with it a gravitational pull towards jean jackets and stonewashed jeans…and glasses. Fucking glasses. It was not fashionable to wear glasses in 1986. In fact, it was the “Golden Era of the Nerd”. You wore glasses you were a geek. Add to that the fact that I could barely mutter my home address, and yep, I shit you not; I was a geek and a mute.

It was the late 80’s and it was all about metal and freestyle - rocking jean jackets, spiked hair and Nike sneakers. As part of my introduction to the school system in the US, I was placed in the bilingual section of the curriculum, which consisted of another 6 kids. Though these kids had been born in the States, their English was pathetic at best, hence their placement into the club. I needed to learn to speak English pronto damnit! How the hell was I supposed to talk to these girls? Sign language was not an option, unless I wanted to get my ass kicked.

Enter the “60 Book Club”. Simply, you had to read at least 60 books and provide a book report for each. At the end of the year you would be rewarded with a “membership card” and public recognition in front of the entire school. God, I was such a nerd. Nonetheless, it was my ticket out, and I planned to capitalize on it.

The books available at the time ranged from “Pygmalion” to “The Karate Kid” to “A Raisin in the Sun” and so on. I dedicated myself all year to reading these books, and writing book reports for all. I stumbled at times – the pressure of all this reading combined with the combustible atmosphere that is junior high made for quite the cocktail. I was a nerd, plain and simple – but my ambitions were high, and I knew full well that this year of devotion to books would serve as a stepping stone for the rest of my life.

Last week of the school year. 64 books. A cheesy ceremony where I wore my Dad’s old suit, and my god-awful glasses. I had arrived. 64 book reports. A shiny membership card and the official stamp of nerd. A blessing in disguise perhaps, as this spurred me to continue to read and read some more. It certainly didn’t help me in my affairs with the female population, but all roads must be crossed twice sometimes. Inevitably, you find your way.

Perhaps I’m still that kid in my Dad’s old suit. 64 books. I should find that card and frame it.