BULLY!

When I was in Junior High School (now known as "middle school" so as to not make any child feel "junior"), there was a guy that bullied me through most of 7th grade.

We will call him Roy Cline (because that was his name). Roy was one year older than me. Not only did I attend school with Roy, I also attended Sunday School and Church with him at our small Southern Baptist Church. His Momma brought him to church, as they lived in a little house not far from the Church.

Often I would tell my Momma about the bullying by Roy. Roy's Mother was a friend of my Momma, and they were in the same Sunday School class...yada yada yada. And Momma would always say something like, "Andy, Roy has a lot of troubles at home. He is just acting out for your attention because he likes you. He will get tired of it." But, he never did.

So, one Sunday afternoon I was talking to Momma about it, and Daddy (my hero) overheard. I do not remember exactly what he said, but it was something like, "Stand up to him! He will never leave you alone until you fight back! yada yada yada." Daddy knew that I did not have a mean bone in my body...and I was pretty well "chicken." But he did the good Ward Cleaver "Daddy work" of teaching me that a man must do what a man must do.

So, I went to school on Monday prepared to stand up to Roy. Sure enough, right after school here he comes...calling me names like "fat boy" (which I was), spitting on my shoes...basically spoiling for a fight. So, I dropped my books (that was before school children wore gay backpacks), and I "put 'em up." My first attempt was "a swing and a miss."

His first attempt was a direct right fist to my schnoz...followed by his evil laugh...a fat boy falling to the ground...stars spinning around in the clear blue sky...and a bloody walk home (I lost at least a pint).

Arriving home, Momma cleaned me up, and did her Momma thing. When Daddy got home that night, he could tell that I was upset. He talked to me a long time about it as he tucked me in to bed (as he usually did). The next day, Roy left me alone. And the day after that, Roy left me alone. He actually never bothered me again...so maybe Daddy was right. Maybe...

A few weeks later, Roy's father died...from liver cirrhosis. Roy's father was a bad alcoholic, and Roy's family life was something akin to a living hell. After I grew up, I found out that Roy (and his Momma) were subjected to abuse continually.

With the perspective of time, and "grown-up" wisdom, I think Roy picked on me because he envied me. Even though I was a little "tub o' lard," not particularly smart, and had no "macho" skills (obviously)...I had what he wanted! I had a nice home...a Daddy that taught boys (including Roy) at Sunday School (and did not beat his children)...and a Momma that had time to be his Vacation Bible School teacher (because my Daddy was actually making a living, and not destroying himself).

My older boys were subjected to "bullies" at school when we lived on an Indian Reservation in Colorado for several years. As I looked into their problems I found that each of these bullies were living in a similar hell.

Some parents oughta' be horsewhipped!