Ditto......

Bloody Hell! What's a kid gotta do to get ahead in life?
I moved from Queensland to New South Wales, and unbeknowest to my parents and myself, the "starting school" age in New South Wales was 6 years old, and not 5 years old like in Queensland. So this meant I had to do Grade 1 all over again! Which isn't all bad I guess. I look back now and feel this is perhaps why I always did well in my grades - because I was a year ahead of everyone. Not that doing 2 years of Grade 1 would've elevated me to "rocket scientist" status, but there was always that edge over the other students I felt.
There was not as much weeping this time round though. I recall having many friends and excelled in sports and studying. I believe there may have even been the first inklings of male bonding and mateship. Though as always, there were bad/sad moments. Throughout the year, I had been collecting little cartoon stickers (or decals) and been pasting them on my school bag. It had gotten to the point where I had just about every square inch covered, and I was the envy of all my schoolmates. I was very proud of my collection! However, one day after class, I discovered someone had ripped most of my decals off. I was in shock and very upset and do remembering crying over this. Of course this is what we expect some kids to do, but even back then I couldn't comprehend why someone would do this. It was something I could never dream of doing to another kid. It was worse than "naughty". It was like blasphemy!
But what could I do? Over the months, I rebuilt my collection, but it never got to the peak of the last one. I remember some older student said to me "Getting your stickers back mate?", and it made me feel good. I felt as if someone knew the pain I felt, and was giving me support to keep moving forward - and at the same time he implied that whoever did this was mean. It was the kind of thing I needed to hear.
We spent two years in this particular school. I remember being the big supportive brother to my younger sister when she joined the next year. I recall seeing my brother getting into a fight with another kid after school and thinking beforehand, "Wow! Big bro will teach this kid a thing or two". After all, he had his dukes up in what I thought was a very professional boxing stance and not backing away. However, somehow the other kid managed to throw a single punch to my brother's nose before he even had time to blink, and big brother dropped to the ground like a sack of spuds. Thus ending the fight! I don't think he was hurt, I just think he had sense to stay down. The thing was he stood his ground, even if it was for 2 seconds.
I was no tougher. I remember the games of rugby league I used to play in the schoolyard. Whilst I loved the sport, I loved running, I loved tackling......I did not like BEING tackled. Many a time I would shout to my team mates "Hey, don't throw the ball to me, I just want to tackle!" But even that proved painful once. I recall this huge boy running directly towards me with the ball. I stood my ground and waited for him to dart to either side of me - but he didn't, he kept on coming towards me. This is odd I thought - can't he see I'm here blocking his path? Why won't he start dodging and weaving and ducking, trying to wrong foot me? Too late....WHAM! He careened right over the top of me and knocked me backwards. However, I held onto him, and he came down with me. I'd tackled that sucker! Though slightly winded and dazed, I had a great sense of accomplishment. It wasn't so bad to get a little rough. After that, being tackled didn't bother me as much.
Oops! And what was this? I once again had a girlfriend. Caroline was her name this time. This lass had cute dimples and was simply the "girl next door" type. As much as I'm embarrassed to say this, I somehow remember my friends holding her as I planted a kiss on her cheek (or was it her friends holding me with her kissing me? I'm not too sure.) It was that time of life when we knew boys stuck together and girls stuck together, and more often than not they were looked upon as the enemy. There was this game of tag (kind of) where the girls would chase the boys, and if caught, we were put behind this glass door (we thought it was more like a trap), and it was named Kiss Girl Corner....eeeek! Strangely enough, these kinds of games continue to occur as we get into our adult years. It really is just a reconnaisance thing, to suss out, explore, test the boundaries, question and ultimately conquer our fears about the unknown.....namely, the opposite sex. We didn't have to play the Kiss Girl Corner thing...but we did, and we liked it.
I even asked my mother if I could have money to buy Caroline a gift. She gave me $5 and I bought a bangle that looked like gold with blue crystal around it. I can't recall actually giving it to her, but I remember her wearing it. It felt good to give her a gift. This feeling of giving has never left me.
Unfortunately, there was this other girl - Lisa, who apparently loved me, though I thought she looked rather dorky looking. She used to follow me home after school, and want to hold my hand and all that mushy stuff...eeeeek! As much as the romantic I was. even at that age, I remember being very selective in who I deemed attractive and "girlfriend" material, and Lisa wasn't one of them. My mother used to laugh at me when she spied Lisa running after me - but I was quick, and she never caught me!
Then that time came again, the family moved back to Queensland the next year (1973). It was a bit more touching this time around. I remember a school friend dropping something over to my house, and I informed him of my up and coming move the next week and that I'd probably never see him again. He kind of stood there speechless. I wondered what went through his mind? His mother was waiting for him in their black car parked on the road outside. He left, went to the car, but stood there for about 15 seconds just staring at the car. It was almost as if he wanted to say something, but didn't quite know what words to use, or what he wanted to say. He slowly got into the car as he said "Okay seeya". He just seemed numb. I remember as I watched him I felt sad for him, because he felt sad because of me. Little did I know, this particular feeling would infiltrate my life for many, many years to come.............