The Evolution of Ben Jammin - Part I
What makes me who I am? Why do I do what I do?
Instead of just throwing out my own theory, I'm just going to give a quick rundown of my life, (the memorable parts anyhow) and you can all feel free to analyze me how you will.
Our story starts in the year 1988. Ancient history, I know, but bear with me. It was a lovely day in late November (Could have been, I don't actually remember all the details of my birth strangely enough), when young Ben Jammin was born. All 11.5 pounds of him. That is correct, back in the days preceding my memories, I was fat. A couple months later, my mom, sister and I followed my dad to Spain while he played professional indoor volleyball in Barcelona. The spanish called me "el Gordo", which in English stands for "Fatso".
As a baby, I'm not really sure whether this was before or after Spain, my parents bought a dog. A Black Labrador-German Sheppard cross which they named Dudie. She and I grew up together. My parents trained her, I played with her. She could sit, shake a paw, and stayed away from traffic, and that was just perfect for us, and I think perfect for her. Dudie and I shared birthdays, and she was a fixture in our lives until she died of old age when I was 16. Over 100 in dog years.
My elementary school years were pretty standard. All I remember is recess, as any young kid should. That and class plays. I used to be a crier, and I really remember crying about not being able to remember my lines as Papa bear in our 2nd grade performance of Goldilocks. I was so frustrated and teary eyed, my mom had to calm me down by bribing me with a skateboard if I could memorize it all. I had a new found determination, and I got that skateboard. A lot of good that was on our gravel driveway. To this day, I can barely even ride a longboard. But I sure made a darn good Papa Bear.
Middle school brought about the mingling of the french fries and the english muffins (French and English immersion students for those of you who don't speak kid). Again, most of us majored in recess. And all the boys played football. Tackle football if the teachers weren't looking. My nickname was "Hardcore Ben", because I refused to be tackled. Keep running at all costs is all I would think about.
It looks like there's a little more to write about than I thought, so I am now officially making this blog a two part series. Look for Part II on Thursday. I'll try to get a few more old pictures from my parents before then too, since I don't have many for this entry and I know how much everyone wants to see "el Gordo".
To be continued....