From time to time, I break from the usual theme of this blog to encourage bully awareness. Tom Lasusa, an old friend from college, wrote this story for his blog in The Patch (Levittown, NY). Thanks Tom, for allowing me to repost it!
Social Networks are great for bringing together family and friends separated by miles or time. However, the reunions can sometimes be a little strange; a buddy of mine recently told me how he got a friend request from someone who was a playmate they were about four years old.
Last year, I also got a message from the past via Facebook. As soon as I saw the name and face, my heart fluttered -- and not in a good way.
It was from the bully who had made my childhood back in Queens a living hell.
At first, "Larry" and I started off as friends: we lived a block away from each other and would often play in the same circles. I would often go to his house for lunch and we'd play board games in his basement.
Then things changed between us. "Larry" started skateboarding and doing more adventurous activities. Being the blossoming geek (see my previous blog), I was content with reading comics, watching cartoons, and collecting Star Wars figures. Our interests had become very different -- the perfect kindling to fuel the flames of a bullying situation.
One day "Larry" started teasing me about my interests. Before long, the teasing got aggressive. He started pushing me around, both in the school yard and in our neighborhood. To make matters worse, he got some of the other kids in the neighborhood to bully in as well.
Then things escalated.
First came the hang-up and crank calls. It got so bad my parents had to change our phone number.
Then the house would be egged almost every other week. We'd be sitting in the living room at night and suddenly we'd hear the crunches of the eggs hitting the windows. The next day, my dad would be out, grumbling as he hosed everything down.
My parents tried speaking to his, which only made things worse: "Larry" branded me a coward for having 'mommy and daddy' come to my defense.
I stopped riding my bike, in fear of encountering him. When I saw a group of kids coming down the street, I didn't bother to wait to see if it was his pack -- I ran inside.
With all my heart, I hated "Larry." I wished horrible things would happen to him. I wished he would slip off his skateboard and get hurt enough to be stuck in his house for weeks. I will not lie: I wished worse things.
After a few years, the crank calls and egging stopped, but the fears of running into him still lingered. In high school, I was extremely cautious in making new friends. I found myself nervous, unwilling to take chances or test my limits in front of others, for fear of humiliation.
It wasn't until college when I made new friends that I felt safe for the first time in a long while. But the memories of "Larry" and what he did -- they lasted a long time.
During my second year in college, I attended a party of a friend who happened to live in the town next to mine. There, kicking back in a chair with a pretty girl sitting on his lap, was "Larry."
"Hey Tom. How's it going?" He asked nonchalantly.
"Not bad." I replied, fighting every urge to run. Here I was: a sophomore in college, and I was deathly afraid of this guy -- and the possibility that if he realized it, the nightmare could start all over again. It took all my energy to remain calm and make some idle conversation with "Larry".
Eventually, I found the opportunity to excuse myself, and that's when it hit me: unlike me, HE had moved on. HE was totally fine.
Later that night, I found I was furious: How dare he be okay? How dare he not feel any regret or remorse for what he did to me?
But the fact was why wouldn't he be? The bullying didn't happen to him.
Back to the (almost) present, I sat there, staring at my laptop screen at "Larry's" simple note: "Hey, remember me?"
Are you kidding, I thought. How could I forget?
For a moment, I thought about deleting it. Then I thought about writing him back and tearing into him. But I realized either reaction would be, in some way, his final victory over me -- even if he never knew about it.
So, I did the only thing I realized I could do: I replied, "Hi Larry. Hope you are doing well," and left it at that.
Years ago, bullying wasn't addressed like it is today -- it was just a part of life. You were supposed to tough it out, or try to fight back, and once it was over just accept that it happened and get on with your life.
Yeah, right.
More than enough studies have been done on bullying that prove the emotional scars can last years, if not a lifetime. But who needs a study for that? I can tell you first hand that's true. To this day, I am still often very self-conscious of what others think of me.
During our the boys' first year in school here in Levittown, I was approached by the LAP administrators. It seemed an older boy (third or fourth grade) was picking on the younger ones, including one of mine. The teacher informed me that as soon as it was discovered, they took action: the boy was immediately separated from the others, and his parents informed. Zero tolerance: a nice change from the teachers that turned a blind eye in the schoolyard of my youth.
Unfortunately, bullies will never go away: Thanks to the internet and smart phones, it's taken on new and disturbing levels. But it's comforting to see more in the community taking it more seriously, and standing strong against the victim.
I pray neither of my boys ever have to deal with a bully like I had. And heaven help either of them if I ever find out they've become the bully.
Like I said before -- zero tolerance.
