Spitting

Johnny Brown, age eight walked out the front door of his house on East Broadway street in Anaheim. It was a typical Saturday morning in 1937, sunny with a slight seventy degree breeze airing the town of fourteen thousand people who were mostly of German or Mexican descent. An unwritten law seemed to keep blacks and orientals out of Anaheim and some people said, "Any Negro seen after dark is arrested by the police." Mexicans were asked to sit only in the balcony of Fox Movie Theater and were allowed to swim in the city pool only on Mondays. This is the town later selected to have the first Disneyland. The town was surrounded by small citrus groves with owners who were not rich in money. The depression was a great leveler. It made almost everyone sort of even with each other and almost nobody had money. In those days the farmers still wore bib overalls over long sleeved blue or white shirts when they were not in church. Anaheim was full of churches and had a beautiful catholic church. There was no place for Jews to worship and we hardly ever saw a Jew in Anaheim. They may have felt uncomfortable with all the Germans living there what with Hitler and all. Anyway, Anaheim was sort of what you might call an all American town in the Far West.

Johnny jumped off the low concrete front porch and cut across the lawn to the side walk. He walked west on Broadway Street. Before Johnny reached the end of his block he noticed Dale Horton sitting on the curb with his feet spread wide on the asphalt street. He was hunched over spitting between his two front teeth making a ten inch round wet spot with his spittle. He paid no attention to Johnny who was two years younger and a lot smaller than Dale. Johnny sat down next to him and watched curiously. "What are you doing that for?"

"I'm practicing spitting between my teeth, dummy. I bet I can spit straighter and a lot farther than you can, Brown. I bet you don't even know HOW to spit between your front teeth." Johnny tried spitting that way and the spit hit up against the inside of his front lip and some dribbled down over his chin. He finally spread his fingers making a V and pushed up on either side of his two upper front teeth. His teeth were set close together and there wasn't much room for the liquid to pass through the opening between the gum line and the crease between his teeth. He managed to make a little wet spot on the pavement but nothing to brag about.

That was how Johnny got to spitting. After that first experience he never passed up an opportunity to practice. He spent most of his time playing outside and hardly anyone paid attention as he learned to increase his distance and accuracy spitting between his teeth. At night he would lie in bed and his mouth would fill up with saliva. He couldn't go to sleep with his mouth full, and he got to thinking the saliva was sort of nasty, and he couldn't make himself swallow it. After a while he would get up out of bed and go spit in the only toilet in the three bedroom house. His four younger brothers, his older sister, and his parents took turns using the bathroom. The six children learned to share at an early age and in some ways it was good for them. Johnny would eventually get too tired to stay awake and eventually after emptying his mouth in the toilet, he would rush back to bed and be asleep before his mouth had time to fill up again.

Mr. Houck was the athletic director in Anaheim for all the grade schools and the junior high. He was built like a bull, had curly short black hair on his head and chest. He had a tough tone to his voice like a Marine sergeant. We all feared and respected him although he was not much fun. He worked only with boys and mostly taught boring calisthenics like the jumping jack and bending over to touch toes. These exercises do not show any imagination at all and hardly anyone liked to do them. After the exercises Mr. Houck chose two teams and then there was a game of softball or football. During one of the football games Mr. Houck noticed Johnny spitting on the ground and said, "What's a-matter, Brown? You got a bad taste in your mouth?" There was sarcasm in his tone of voice, and Johnny felt embarrassed.

"Yes, I have a bad taste in my mouth." Johnny decided right then and there he had to stop spitting.

Johnny soon learned it is not easy to stop a habit. His mouth filled with saliva almost immediately after he forced himself to swallow and at first, it almost made him sick to his stomach when he tried to swallow. He finally learned. After that, he was careful about picking up new habits.