The Turtle

I was writing about "Boys" by David Lloyd and thinking about boys and meanness and decided to tell a story that my first husband told me. He was one of the kindest people I've ever known. Maybe this story is a commentary on peer pressure. Or maybe I just want to tell you something about Andy Tamayo because he is gone.




When Andy was in elementary school he was playing with several other boys in a field when they came upon a box turtle. Andy thought he might like to keep the turtle as a pet and wondered what his mother would say about that. He immediately realized that because he was the smallest of the boys, any of the others would have first dibs on the turtle. Before disappointment had time to register with Andy, he was surprised to see the oldest of his companions pick up a small stone and bounce it off the turtle's marbled shell. Another boy did the same, and within seconds all the boys, including Andy, were throwing stones - larger stones - harder and faster - at the helpless reptile. Eventually, the turtle died. Andy went home and that night he cried himself to sleep. He was in his mid-thirties when he told me about the box turtle, and honestly, I could see that the incident still pained him. I loved that man.