JOURNAL EXCERPT: May 14, Sun. 1978 8:35 PM

"I had a big arguement [sic] with W. T. at work last night. Two high school seniors flattened two tires on this guy's pickup. The guy is named R., and he works upstairs in the mailroom. W. said it was just 'hell raisin,' and I said it was damn stupid....W. didn't flatten the tires, but he didn't think it was wrong to flatten the tires either."

MANHOOD REDO: I haven't had my laptop for a while, which explains the break in this blog. Finally, it's returned home safe and sound and fully functioning, so I'm back to doing Manhood Redo.

I was always a fairly cautious "hell raiser," maybe because I was generally afraid of getting myself in risky situations - not that I would have characterized myself as a "chickenshit," a term used in Texas while I was growing up. I thought paying attention to my fear informed my actions in ways that benefited me. I know the typical masculine ideal of hell raisin' is more in line with W. T.'s up above because it's considered fun, but I never quite looked at it that way. And I actually think that it's only a small minority of guys who do things like flatten two tires on someone's pickup. Most of us don't care to carry things too far. It's just that those who do draw a lot of attention. My "boys will be boys" acts were less dramatic. I tended to empathize with the person being targeted too much to do some damage, which explains why I'd go along with friends who were toilet papering someone's house but wouldn't participate.

A perfect example: a friend, T. C., and I snuck over to D. S.'s house during the middle of the night with a can of car wax. D. S. was someone our age who owned a fairly sporty car, maybe a Camero or something like that. All I can remember is that it was red. We parked our car down the block and when we entered his driveway crouched and tried to stay in the shadows since there were still lights on in the house. Once we reached the car there was just enough light to see, so we pulled out a piece of cloth, open the car wax can, and wrote in large letters on the hood, "Just eat a big one" with the wax. If we wanted to really hell raise, we probably would've done it with paint. We knew that it would be readable once the wax dried but wanted to make sure it could be wiped away (even though it would probably still be faintly present). I don't know how he knew we did it, but he confronted us the next day, and I think we confessed. He laughed about it.

I imagine there are plenty of examples of guys hell raisin' in ways that lead to less lasting and extreme consequences. We just don't hear about them, but it would probably be good if we did so that we could construct a whole different understanding of raisin' hell.

JOURNAL EXCERPT: April 13, Thurs. 1978 8:30 PM

"I just finished running. On my walk back to the house from running a young man yelled, 'Hey, man.' I wasn't sure he was yelling at me because I was across the street from him, so I didn't answer. He yelled, 'Hey, man,' again, so I turned towards him. 'Have you seen a girl with black pants and a yellow shirt on?' he asked. 'What? Walking around, you mean?' I asked. It then occurred to me that he meant a little girl. 'Yeah,' he said. 'No, I sure haven't,' I said. 'Well, she's disappeared, so I'd appreciate it if you'd watch for her,' he said. 'Ok. I'll keep my eyes open,' I said, and began walking home again. I didn't see her and felt a little bothered about it, even though I knew he probably didn't expect me to see her."

MANHOOD REDO: The excerpt suggests at the end that I might have felt some responsibility for finding the little girl because he asked me to watch for her, and while my failure to find her might have been part of what "bothered" me, I would suspect that the feelings went much deeper than that, knowing more initimately now how scary it is when someone close to you disappears. There have been times when my wife or daughter haven't come home when I expected them, and it's hard not to jump to worst-case scenarios, an act which is driven, I think, by a fear of loss.

I would assume I was "bothered" because at some level I empathized with the guy and his distress, even if I couldn't recognize it or articulate it. It would be useful to include in masculine socialization a more thorough dictionary of emotions, so we could better express them and empathize with others.