Ben gets his first black eye when he\u2019s 12 years old. It\u2019s a good one. One for the books.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
It happens at the Caroline Ballroom in 1972, in the small Wisconsin farm-town where Ben grew up, as the wounded veterans are returning from the Vietnam War (which wasn\u2019t considered a \u201clegal\u201d war because it wasn\u2019t \u201cauthorized\u201d by Congress, so it was called a \u201cPolice Action.\u201d It didn\u2019t involve any police officers, though. We sent soldiers, Marines, fighter\/bomber pilots and the Navy. Over 58,000 Americans died in the jungle on the other side of the world, killing commies for mommy. Try telling their families that it wasn\u2019t war. Good luck with that.)<\/p>\n\n\n\n
But Ben isn\u2019t a warrior, as he\u2019s soon to find out. He thinks he is at that moment, after being steeled by a few sneaked beers at the wedding reception of a local farm-girl to a local farm-boy. The Ballroom is a great place for wedding receptions, in that German descendant cheesemaking town, and later for freaky-haired, crazy-named rock and roll bands as the 70s takes its post-psychedelic grip. Ben is tall for a 12-year-old, but skinny. Inexperienced in the actions of men, but curious what a fight is like. The floor of the wood-arch domed, voluminous ballroom has been sprinkled with sawdust, so the dancers can shuffle and glide as they turn and twirl to the polka bands with the difficult-to-pronounce Polish names. Ben sees his mark and gives it a shot.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Tommy Rassmossen, (name slightly changed to protect the innocent) known as Rass-Ass, is a few years older but several inches shorter than Ben, and Ben thinks he can take him. When Ben sees him standing in front of the vintage theatre chairs with cast-iron bases and hardwood folding seats and armrests that line the dance floor, he charges Tommy and tackles him, putting his backbone into the protruding end of an armrest. Ben thinks that will be all it takes. He\u2019s wrong. Tommy gets up and looks at Ben in disbelief.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cOw! Goddamit! Why the hell did you do that? That hurt, you asshole!\u201d Ben doesn\u2019t answer, just raises his fists. \u201cI don\u2019t want to fight you!\u201d Tommy says. \u201cYou\u2019re just a kid!\u201d But the adolescent beer-buzz makes Ben feel like a man, so he advances on Tommy, his little fists raised half-way up his torso with his elbows hanging below. He repeats his words, but Ben presses on. By this time, all the other youngbloods are watching, yelling \u201cFight!\u201d Tommy has only one choice now.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Ben should know better and run when he sees the worm turn in Tommy\u2019s eyes and resolve overtake surprise, but he keeps pressing, moving at Tommy like a clumsy, flat-footed cow. \u201cAlright,\u201d Tommy says as he quickly repositions himself to get more room to operate, and takes his fighting stance. He raises his fists to shoulder height and cocks his elbows level behind them, bouncing on his feet and bobbing his head back and forth as he transfers his upper body from one side to the other. Ben no longer has a stationary target, but the beer-muscles say it will be okay.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Ben plods on. Tommy says, \u201cI don\u2019t want to fight you!\u201d one more time, and then launches a solid right cross with a thick-as-a-brick fist right at Ben\u2019s eye. It seems like slow-motion as that meaty set of bone flesh comes sailing toward Ben, middle-finger knuckle at the point. It lands squarely on the bottom socket of Ben\u2019s left eye, snapping his head back but not knocking him off his feet. He feels emboldened by weathering this initial blow and slogs at Tommy, his blood flowing warm with a little bit of beer.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Tommy snaps off another one and lands it on the same spot. Again, with the same results. Ben presses the attack like a wounded animal and actually thinks about trying to throw a punch, when Tommy says \u201cAlright\u201d again and pops off one more right cross \u2013 this time to finish, with a little heat \u2013 and puts it on the exact same spot, as though guided by a laser. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
He immediately yells, \u201cOw! Fuck!\u201d and grabs his right hand, pulling it to his body in pain. Ben thinks he has him now; but then his eye closes like an inverted vertical blind. Half his world goes dark, and the beer muscles melt away. Ben hears an adult say, \u201cAlright, that\u2019s enough!\u201d All the other kids are yelling, \u201cTake it outside!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Tommy walks away snapping his right hand at his side and cussing. Ben turns his head with limited vision and finds his father in the bar, talking to his teacher, Mr. Doll. Ben tugs on his dad\u2019s coat sleeve as the grown men look down at him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWhat the hell happened to you?\u201d his father asks, looking a little shocked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI\u2019m gonna go home now,\u201d Ben says, and slowly walks away.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Ben\u2019s father comes home a short time later and looks at Ben\u2019s eye. \u201cYou okay?\u201d he asks. Ben mumbles \u201cYeah,\u201d kind of wimpily, just glad to be in the security of their house. Ben\u2019s father looks at him sternly and says, \u201cI asked around and everyone said you started the fight. Why would you do that? Tommy\u2019s older than you?\u201d Ben looks up at him through his good eye and mutters, \u201cI thought I could win.\u201d Ben\u2019s father fetches some ice cubes in a wetted washcloth and says, \u201cJust hold this on your eye. You\u2019ll be alright.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Ben sits in his father\u2019s chair in the weathered-wood family room. His father turns the TV on for Ben and finds a show he likes (there are no remote controls back then, and only three channels because there are only three networks: ABC, NBC and CBS).<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYou gonna be okay?\u201d Ben\u2019s father asks.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Ben nods and says, \u201cYeah, I\u2019ll be fine,\u201d already mesmerized by the black and white imagery from the General Electric console television set, it\u2019s big wooden cabinet the size of their fireplace.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI\u2019ve got to get back to the ballroom,\u201d Ben\u2019s father says. \u201cThey\u2019re our farmers and I want to talk to the families,\u201d referring to the fact that the bride and groom families sell their milk to Ben\u2019s family business, which turns it into cheese at the F.R. Rogue & Co. cheese factory (makers of Caroline Gold cheddar and Colby) since 1912. \u201cI\u2019ll be back to check on you in a bit. You sure you\u2019re gonna be okay?\u201d he asks.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYeah, I\u2019m fine,\u201d Ben says, transfixed by the magic of the vacuum tubes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cAlright,\u201d Ben\u2019s father says, and he\u2019s gone.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
A few days later Ben is buying some fishing tackle at the Caroline Hardware, which is owned by a couple families in town, one of which is Ben\u2019s buddy Scott Grosskopf\u2019s. Mrs. Grosskopf is at the till and says, \u201cWell look at you! That\u2019s a nice shiner you have there. What happened?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI got into a fight at the wedding reception,\u201d Ben says, somewhat sheepishly but with a little bit of pride.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cMy my, that\u2019s a nice one. What happened to the other guy?\u201d she asks.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI hurt his hand,\u201d Ben says, and gives a little smile.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cWell, alright then,\u201d she chuckles, and gives Ben a little pat, having raised enough boys to know that a little black eye is no big deal, just part of the rite of passage to becoming a man. Ben chuckles back and turns to leave, hoping Tommy\u2019s hand feels better, and takes a few small steps out of adolescence. It occurs to Ben at that moment that, just maybe, everything really is alright.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
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