Becoming

Writing is a strange and wonderful practice. You sit down to capture a story and when you begin writing sometimes something else ends up on the page. That is exactly what happened to me yesterday. I sat down to write a story about the student body VP thing and when I finished I had 19 pages of prose. Contained within the prose was this story that I've titled "Becoming".

My earliest memories come from Saudi Arabia. I spent 5 years living there and left at age 9. After a brief stay in Missouri where I lived with my Aunt, I settled in Gillette Wyoming. I believe the year was 1967. I graduated high school in Gillette and my father still lives there.

Besides dealing with the cultural change you get when moving from the middle east to the states, I was also dealing with the emotions any 9 year old would go through as their parents did the whole divorce ritual.

In an effort to absolutely maximize the shock of a changing life, I was blessed with an education in the phenomena commonly called bullies.

The concept of being picked on at school was completely foreign to me. It just didn't happen in Dhahran. As a result, when I showed up in elementary school in Wyoming where all the aspiring hoodlums need to take a whack at the new kid in town, I had no clue how to deal with the situation.

For those of you who don't know me well, it's worth mentioning that I've always been somewhat outspoken (much like falling off a motorcycle at 65 miles an hour is SOMEWHAT abrasive to your skin).

The net result was that my elementary and middle school experience was quite terrifying and probably the most disturbing period of my existence. It was a rare day indeed when I didn't get punched, kicked or in some other way abused for no apparent reason.

Often the dark clouds in our lives come packaged with a silver lining. Mine came in the form of Dennis, Joe and Scott - my best friends at the time. I know Dennis and Scott were signed up for membership in the same "hit me, push me, embarrass me as much as possible" club. In my memory of these events of over 40 years ago I believe Joe had a bit of acceptance by the "cool kids" and I don't recall him being a punching bag.

The five year period from mid fourth grade through the middle of grade 9 were more or less something out of a horror movie for me.

Then a period of my life that I now affectionately label "Becoming" began. As I reflect back I believe the catalyst that marked the end the horror movie and the beginning of "becoming" was a specific incident.

Dennis was my best friend and to this day is one of only two people who have been a constant life-long positive connection. It began when I met him in the 5th grade and must have still been going on when he served as the best man at my wedding. We are still connected today and I expect he will comment on this blog. Dennis, like Scott and I, spent plenty of time getting picked on by the bullies. Then Dennis moved away. He lived in Long Beach, California for a number of years and returned in the 9th grade.

It was the middle of my freshman year of high school when Dennis returned. It didn't take long at all before a group of kids that used to always pick on him (and me, and Scott, and everyone else that looked like a walking punching bag) decided to pick up where they left off multiple years earlier. One of the more obnoxious members of the group was a kid named John.

We were in a social studies class and John decided it was appropriate and necessary to humiliate Dennis by making fun of a facial feature or some such thing. The first iteration Dennis, more politely than I expect was necessary, asked John to leave him alone. That didn't work so well and John just escalated. Next Dennis simply said, "You REALLY don't want to do this" but this only brought some of John's buddies into the mix. Dennis made a final statement of "Wait until after class" to which taunts of "oooh, ahhh he's going to get us after class" was finally squashed by the teacher.

Needless to say John and his little gang of thugs would be waiting for Dennis in the hall as Dennis exited the class.

As I mentioned earlier, Dennis went through a transformation in Long beach. School bullies in Gillette, Wyoming - population 8,000 are a very mild annoyance when compared to the knife wielding, gang bangers who would be inclined to send you to the hospital if you were unfortunate enough to get in a fight.

In Gillette the "bad guys" would knock your books out of your hand, put gum in your hair, or if they were really feeling violent they might deliver an undeserved punch in the stomach. In Long beach the offer was a ride in the ambulance and it was there when Dennis REALLY learned how to deal with bullies.

The other thing that changed Dennis in California was gymnastics. Dennis was a typical puny weakling, the kind of kid bullies love to punch when he left. When he got back he was stronger than he had ever been in his life. I remember him walking down the sidewalk on his hands and seeing an ant, he had the coordination, balance and strength that allowed him to do a push-up style move (while staying inverted) and smashing the ant with his nose. Like I said he was stronger.

As John and his little trouble making buddies waited for us in the hall, Dennis and I exited the classroom. The thing that happened next literally changed my life direction. John stepped forward and offered another anatomical insult and Dennis calmly reached forward and grabbed a handful of John's shirt. With one hand and a simple motion Dennis lifted John by his shirt until John's feet were a good 3 inches from the ground. Dennis then took a step forward and slammed John's wiggling body against the lockers, his feet still unable to reach the floor. As John's "tough guy" buddies slowly backed away Dennis calmly explained the facts of life to John.

"I'm not the scared kid I used to be in the 6th grade and I'm really not going to put up with you like I used to back then. I understand that you are stupid and didn't know any better in there" gesturing with his free hand while John dangled from the other, "but if you have anything else to say about me that I don't like, I am going to have to hurt you".

With that Dennis tossed John on the floor much like any gymnast would discard a towel after wiping sweat from his face following an awesome routine on the rings. As John and his loser allies watched in stunned reverence, Dennis turned and walked away. He walked away from the insults. He walked away from the sucker punches and shoves from behind. He walked away from the list of the weak and undeserving.

To this day, nearly 40 years later, Dennis probably never realized that he was the inspiration that caused me to deck John's friend Mike a short time later when he shoved and then punched me in shop class.

After Mike there was Jed and Pat and a host of others that used the weak as their entertainment. One by one they observed first hand that you could insult me all you wanted and I would simply walk away but if you touched me; a push, a punch, gum in the hair - any unwanted physical contact, and they were in a fight (and win, lose. or draw - you were going to take some damage).

By the end of my Sophomore year the bullies had all moved on to other targets, and I was knee deep into a transformation. I'm quite sure I never shared the signifigance of this milestone with my friend. I'm not certain I realized the genesis nature of this particular event in the transformation to my current persona. I'm often called over-confident, even arrogant but nobody that knows me these days would ever describe me using the words "shy" or "timid". It's just not who I am anymore (ask the guy who tried to mug me in Brazil).

It's interesting to me. I sat down to write about an event that happened near the end of my Junior year and that story just came out. Writing is a strange and wonderful practice.