Prose Gallery Four
My brother Ralph taking me to see Elvis' first movie "Love Me Tender"
at the State Theater on Journal Square
and having a plaster cast covering almost all of my left leg due to
 orthopedic surgery
and having a strong urge to go to the bathroom during the movie
and not wanting to climb the long flight of stairs on crutches [Perhaps,
 more importantly, not wanting to miss any of the movie]
and Elvis dying at the end of the movie.
 -To this day, at anyone's mention of Elvis or "Love Me Tender,"
Ralph will remind me of how I killed Elvis by shitting my pants.


the day an unpleasant odor pervaded the third-grade classroom
and being red-faced with embarrassment since it was obvious that the
 odor was most pronounced around my desk
and Mrs. Davidson saying to me: "Go to the lavatory and see if it's
 you" [Did she really believe that if it was me, that I didn't already
 know it?]
and sitting on the toilet and hearing someone come into the room and
 enter the stall next to mine
and knowing from his shoes that it was Mr. Bruno, the morbidly
 obese man who assisted the more severely disabled children    
and staring at his feet and noticing how one rose up and disappeared
 from my view
and watching closely as the other foot also rose up and disapppeared
 from my view
and knowing that if I were to look up toward the top of the next stall,
 I would see Mr. Bruno's face spying down at me, trying to see if it
 was me.


the pony rides at Uncle Miltie's Amusement Park in Bayonne
[aka, Bergen Point]
and my parents taking me there about once a year when we visited
 Aunt Raffie and Uncle Tony at their bakery
and being next in line to get a pony [I was probably devouring a
 cannoli or an eclair from the bakery while waiting. I was a
 chubby kid]
and the petite young girl waiting behind me
and the next pony prancing alongside the raised platform on which
 we were waiting being a small frilly one
and lifting my leg toward the pony in preparation to get on
and the man operating the ride shouting: "Hey wait, this pony is
 too small for you"
and my father quickly adding: "Yea, what do you want to do, kill
 that pony?"
and watching in silence as the little girl got on that pony and rode away
and waiting patiently as the next beast of burden, a large unadorned
 nag, hobbled up to the platform.


eighth-grade graduation rehearsal
and the class being seated on stage according to size
and being seated up front because I was short
and a teacher remarking that perhaps I should be seated more
 toward the back
and another teacher countering: "But Carmine sits short"
and the former teacher answering: "Yes, but Carmine also
 sits wide."


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This gallery contains four memories of youth relating to embarrassment.
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