That Girl Beat Me Up! (or Every Little Boys' Nightmare Come True!)

For as long as i can remember, i used to get beat up. It was not unusual for me to come home almost everyday from school crying or with a torn up shirt, a bloody nose or busted lip... now don't get me wrong, i am not the kind of person who goes looking for fisticuffs but somehow watching that Daniels kid get beat up or being the one to beat him up was something akin to a national past time back in the day...

Now to make it a bit more shaming (and please don't read anything sexist into this... it just is, what it is ok?) more often than not, i was getting my head handed to me by not just any other kid but in particular, i seemed to be the kid that the girls liked to pick on and beat up. To this day i still do not know why but somehow i always manged to tick Helga or Hildegarde off and then i was told that after school, it was "on".

You want to talk about humiliating... can't get much worse than knowing everyday not only are you going to end up in a fight you'll lose (because you don't know how to fight) but add to that the fact that it's in all likelihood going to be a girl who takes you down...

So why share this chapter of my life fit for the wall of shame?

Because of Sam... actually her name was Samantha but she told me to call her Sam. It amazes me that after all these years i remember her name...

For some reason Sam liked me and decided that i was going to be her boyfriend and of course i agreed... she was cute, she had braids and a pretty smile and plus if i had said no... i think she would have beat me up too. One day though Sam found out that Sandra was going to beat me up after school... not sure why Sandra wanted to be me up... must have just been her turn up to "bat". But Sam came out of school that day stood between me and Sandra and told Sandra that before she could be me up she would have to beat Sam up... come to think of it, that was the last time that year anyone threatened me... Sam made sure i was ok.

Not sure whatever happened to Sandra or Sam.... i imagine Sam probably competed under a pseudonym on American Gladiators or something... Sandra however...who knows?

One thing is for sure, that one year with Sam changed me, not because i became this great fighter but because Sam in her own way helped me see myself as worthy of being defended. i am still not sure what she saw in the quiet little boy with a thick New York accent but as i have said elsewhere i still remember Sam's name. And that says a lot more than anything else....

Bullies...

i'll never forget Dave Nardi...

He was a new kid, pretty big for his age but word was he ended up at Rich East because he had been expelled from Bloom Trail... and let me tell you... if you got expelled from Bloom Trail... you had to be a head case! The rumor was that he got caught dealing and somehow worked out some sort of deal to avoid going to "juvie" (juvenile detention or young offender jail).

Anyway, i was minding my own business one day during my second year of high school and the next thing i knew one of the football coaches was busting Dave Nardi's chops over something... exactly what it was i still don't know to this day but from that point on i was Nardi's target. i found out later that he accused me of being the "narc" that got him in trouble and i think the fact that i was simply in the room when it happened was enough for him to conclude that i was the one that turned him in.

Our high school boys locker room was on the second level above the gym bleachers and was basically a series of caged in rooms with lockers. It resembled a labyrinth and could be difficult to get out of at times. One day after football practice i was running a bit late leaving the locker room, but unbeknown to me one of Nardi's toadies was shadowing me as i got ready to leave... being on the football team at the time it was understandable that i might be taking longer to leave but when one of the coaches showed up and found Nardi's "lookout" man, a series of questions directed at him ensued. With no idea of what was going on, i pushed pass them both and left for home.

The next day that same coach pulled me aside and told me i needed to be careful because Nardi's plan the previous day had been thwarted. Nardi's plan had been to get me cornered in one of the locker rooms upstairs and along with his little henchman beat me senseless. This would be payback for my getting him in trouble several months previous.

For the next several weeks, every single day, i walked home a different way or doubled back toward the high school just to make sure he never knew where i lived. I remember looking over my shoulders hoping i would never see his ugly mug. That was not a fun couple of months.

Dave Nardi was a bully, the worst kind... a sneaky bully. The kind of person who creates a scheme to inflict harm on others just to make themselves feel better with a certain stealth. Sometimes we run into bullies even in adulthood. People who speak loudly for the purposes of intimidation or maybe use silence to keep you guessing what they want. Sometimes adult bullies have a considerable amount of control over our very livelihoods. At other times we may not have to see them very often but when we do, we find ourselves flinching at their every word.

Can i leave you with an encouraging word?

Most bullies will only stop bullying you, when you tell them, "Enough is enough!". It may be hard and it may be scary but stand face to face with who ever is trying to bully you and tell them to beat it, your days of being pushed around are over!

That's one thing the Dave Nardi's of the world completely understand.

Can't We All Just Get Along?!?

My mom tells me that i have always been the peacemaker in our family.... wanting everyone to just "get along" and desiring to always "get along" with others. Well, i don't know about that but it seems to me that at several times in my life, i have been smack dab in the middle of relational conflict with no real clear clue as to why or how i ended up there!

For instance (perhaps you can relate) i can remember quite clearly having to face what seemed to be more than my fair share of bullies as a kid. Like the time i spent an entire summer on the southside of Chicago instead of Queens in New York City where i was born and grew up. It seems that word had gotten around the neighborhood that there was new kid on the block, who had a funny accent and was fairly easy to beat up. So almost every day, when i came to the front door to ostensibly go outside and play, i was met by a long line of kids from up and down the street who wanted to beat me up. i was an easy target because i wouldn't fight back (Of course, i really had no idea of how to fight!).

Then there was Bobby Best. This kid was huge for an elementary age kid... at least he seemed to be to me! i truly hoped that perhaps we could be friends... and "friends" as far as i was concerned meant that he would go a week or more and not beat me up! One day after school while tossing bricks (discus style... we were pretending we were in the Olympics) at an abandoned house (one of the few times it seemed that Bobby Best and i were really maybe on the road toward becoming "friends")... i made the mistake of launching an erstwhile discus/ projectile brick inadvertently toward the steps of the house which were way off to the right of the boarded windows we were aiming for directly in front of us. Unfortunately, sitting on the steps was Bobby Best's little bratty sister. The series of events that followed involved copious amounts of pain for both your truly and Bobby Best's little bratty sister.
First, after being smacked squarely in the forehead with a brick, Bobby Best's little bratty sister cried as if she had been smacked in the head with a brick! Secondly, after making sure that the swelling lump on her head was only the sign of the human body doing what it is supposed to in those situations, Bobby turned his attention to me. i had just gotten that "Inch High Private Eye" lunchbox too, before Bobby took it and smashed it down on my head and said..."Now you know how my little sister feels!" (He didn't refer to her as bratty... even though that is what she was!). My lunchbox was ruined and so was my weeklong "friendship" with Bobby Best.

Relational conflict it seems no matter how much we try cannot be avoided. But then again perhaps that is part of being human. We are all different, have different expectations, temperaments, personalities and on and on it goes. i guess the key is how do you handle conflict? Due to responsibilities related to what i do here at Westbrook, i have spent the last several days and weeks thinking about relational conflict. It has become somewhat obvious to me that most of us even as adults don't do whole lot better than i did back in elementary in dealing with my tormentor and nemesis Bobby Best. Just a glance at the internet news sites, cable news channels or network evening news gives evidence of that. From everything to custody battles to international wars to civil suits, we humans struggle with the whole conflict thing.

What is the answer? That, i can't answer completely but i do know that part of the answer has a lot to do with our willingness as individuals to commit to work through whatever differences we may have with one another. Understanding that while we may not get everything we want, the key is to do whatever it takes (within reason) to maintain the relationship. Committing to this kind of hard work will mean making sacrifices but living with other humans in community absolutely demands it!

i bet if i had been a better fighter, i wouldn't have been as interested in being a "peace maker"... So maybe it is a good thing that i used to get beat up all the time as a kid...