Dilby R. Dixon's the Dilbonary

Author

It was late morning on December 21st when my mother, Sandra Dixon, lay restless in a hospital delivery room in the town of Bernard Falls awaiting the birth of me, Dilby R. Dixon, her first and only child.

All night and into that morning, a fluke thunderstorm had come in, one of the worst storms the town had ever seen. The storm had knocked out all the electricity in the area, including the hospitals, as the heavy rains and gusty winds blew through town, wreaking havoc and destruction.

As the rest of the town was safely hunkered down in their homes and shelters, my mother remained nervous and scared squeezing the hand of my worried father, Hyatt Dixon, who stood faithfully by her side.

Flickering emergency lights and flashlights were the only source of light for the doctors and nurses surrounding my mother. The storm was relentless as it raged on with lightning crashing down all around the hospital, creating an electrical storm that rattled and shook the walls.

Apparently, that wasn’t enough to stop me from coming into the world, as I arrived in almost complete darkness in the hands of Doctor Biddleman at exactly 11:00 a.m., at which time the storm suddenly stopped.

While my mother cradled me in her arms that morning, everyone in the hospital stopped by her room to see us. They expressed admiration for my mother’s bravery, and how lucky of a baby I was to be born without any problems under such conditions. Aside from the devastating storm that took place, I was born six weeks early and yet I was completely healthy.

This was the story of my birth as told to me by my parents when I was old enough to understand. I didn’t think much of it back then. It was just an interesting story my parents told me. Now, as I have gotten older, I have discovered that there’s much more to this story.

The timing of my birth and the storm were in fact no accident.

The orange glow of the looming sunset streaked through my bedroom window highlighting the wall that stood just beyond the end of my bed. I raised my hand into the light and closed my fist as though I was capturing a part of the sun. I then opened my hand back up, releasing the energy that had now warmed up my cold hand. I would do this repeatedly until my arm got tired or the sun had disappeared, whichever happened first. I often found myself doing odd things like this to pass the time.

Growing up as an only child in a small town to parents who believed I was their miracle baby certainly limits the things you can do. Having no siblings to talk to or play with, I was forced into finding ways to entertain myself, eventually becoming my own best friend. Like anything else, you adapt and you get accustomed to being a certain way, and my way was solitude. Aside from my parents, I was alone in the world, and I was okay with that.

As a baby, everything seemed to come easily and naturally to me. My parents said that I always slept through the nights and rarely cried, even when I had wet diapers. I took my first steps when I was seven months old, and I spoke and understood words more quickly than expected. I was their special child they would say, but I don’t think they realized just how special I really was.

As I continued to get older I started to develop a wild imagination, as I would daydream and make up extraordinary stories and places. My parents would laugh at them and tell me what a creative imagination I had. They eventually started calling me their little dreamer because that’s what I was.

When I turned five years old, I started school.

I knew when I started that it wasn’t going to be easy for me to fit in and make friends. Ever since I can remember, I lacked confidence in myself. I always shied away from things and people, never daring myself to take those big leaps, to be bold and fearless. I might have been taller than most kids my age, but being tall didn’t stop other kids, even smaller ones, from intimidating me. If there ever was a confrontation or an uncomfortable situation, I was always quick to back down or walk away. I hated not being able to stick up for myself, something I was always afraid of doing. I was ignored and made fun of because I was different than most kids. Being that kind of kid and having no friends only pulled me down further into seclusion.

This went on for the next five years, as I remained the loner kid in school. Then something very odd happened on the day of my 10th birthday, something that made me look at myself and really see that not only did I not fit in school, but that I just didn’t fit in this world.

There I was, walking on the sidewalk minding my own business outside of Goodwin Elementary School after school just got out. I was on my way home when something on the ground caught my eye. I stopped and looked down to watch hundreds of ants scurry through the cracks in the sidewalk in a single line rushing past one another like they had a purpose. What were all these ants doing? Were they running away from something or toward something unknown?

While looking down and lost in thought of these ants, I failed to notice the rumbling of a car speeding past me or the object that was launched from it that exploded all over me and knocked me to the ground, causing my backpack to fly off.

I remained frozen for a second, confused about what exactly just happened. I didn’t know what it was that hit me until I wiped the mush out my eyes. I had been pelted by a flying watermelon.

Laughter and hollering came from the car before it screeched its tires around the corner and disappeared.

I lay there covered from head to toe in red, sticky fruit, as I was clearly the victim of a drive by fruiting. The impact from the watermelon caused a little bit of pain in my left arm and chest, but for the most part I was okay.

Before I got up, I heard laughter coming from behind me by the school. I turned around and saw Riley Rogers and his band of no-gooders, Johnny and Billy, leaning against the school wall, pointing and laughing hysterically at me.

Riley was the school bully and Johnny and Billy were like his puppy dogs, always following him around and doing everything Riley said. They were mean kids and always had it out for me ever since the 3rd grade.

One day for no reason, Riley took my dad’s old hat I was wearing and wrote loser in big black marker across the back. Then he forced it back on my head and pointed at it calling me a loser in front of everyone to see. Needless to say, I never liked him or the no-gooders since that day. And as much as I loved that hat, I never wore it again.

Hey Dilby, how’s that watermelon taste? Riley yelled out.

Yeah, how’s it taste? Billy said.

I looked away and ignored their sarcastic remarks knowing any interaction with them would only make it worse.

I got up from the sidewalk and stood there amidst a sea of red, humiliated and embarrassed as the juice dripped off my head, hitting the sidewalk below where pieces of the fruit lay broken all around me.

Maybe if you weren’t spacing out like you always do you might of saw it flying at ya’, Riley said with a chuckle.

Yeah, ya’ space case, Johnny said.

That thing just clobbered you, Riley said.

Boom, Dilby goes down, Johnny said.

I continued to pay no attention to them as I brushed all the remaining fruit off my face and body. My clean white t-shirt and jeans were now stained red. I looked like a character out of a horror film.

Why don’t you guys just leave him alone! a voice yelled out.

I looked up and saw Grace Billings walking over to me. Grace and I knew of each other but by no means were we friends. She was also known as Brace Face Grace because she wore braces on her teeth. A name she no doubt got from none other than Riley Rogers himself.

Are you okay? Grace asked.

I was rather shocked to see that Grace had come over to help me and I could see that she was genuinely concerned.

Yeah, I’m fine, I replied.

Awe, look at that, Brace Face Grace to the rescue, Riley said. Ain’t that sweet?

I think I’m gonna cry, Billy said.

Don’t forget to kiss him where it hurts, Riley said as he puckered his lips and made a kissing noise.

I’m not sure how other kids would have reacted to this, whether they would have cried or gotten angry or ran away, but I calmly stood there next to Grace pretending I didn’t hear them as I rubbed my left arm where the watermelon hit me.

Just ignore them, they’re jerks, Grace said.

That’s pretty much what I always do anyway, I said.

You sure you’re okay? Grace asked.

I’m fine, really, I said.

Just then, we heard a honk. Grace looked to a car that pulled up in front of the school.

I gotta go, Grace said.

Thanks, for coming over, I said.

Grace acknowledged me with a smile then walked away and got in the car.

Looks like you scared her off, Riley said.

I tried to restrain myself from acknowledging him but I couldn’t help it any longer, so I turned and threw Riley a dirty look. I knew it was a mistake when I looked at him. I let him get to me and I hated that.

Riley and the no-gooders pushed off from the wall and made their way to me. Riley was out front with Johnny and Billy a few steps behind, one on