I’m going to get away from the brave new world of the 21st Century and the animal kingdom for this segment and go back a few million years to my childhood. I explained a little about that farm on the other side of the railroad tracks here: Could you choose to live on the street?, but to pursue the bullying issue I’ll elaborate a bit.
The kids who lived on the other side of those tracks were overwhelmingly tough, poor, and ‘bad’. The families were farm laborers or otherwise unskilled, lots of kids, and Hispanic or considered ‘white trash’. The kids living there went to Lindsey Grammar School, and the RR tracks defined the boundary between Lindsey and the other two grammar schools.
In 1949, when I was starting school my mother went to war with the superintendent of schools and the school board to make certain I went to East Ward, not Lindsey. She succeeded.
Meanwhile, on this side of the tracks and the highway there were a few neighborhoods of kids who belonged in Lindsey, but were doomed by geography to go to school with the regular population at East Ward. One of those was a boy named Floren Villianueva and his siblings. A tough, bad, mean as hell youngster with older brothers meaner than him. He and I entered the first grade in the same class.
Floren and I somehow got crosswise with one another almost the first day of classes during recess. He gave me a blow to the stomach that knocked the wind out of me, doubled me over and might well have been responsible for the hernia of the goozle that’s caused me trouble to this day.
After school each afternoon Floren and his brothers walked home the same route I did, and for a few days they went the extra distance to chase me home, throwing rocks at me when they couldn’t catch me, beating hell out of me when they could. Me finding safety only when I went through the door to the house.
That naturally came to the attention of my mom after a few days. One afternoon she was standing on the porch shaking a rug and saw me running across the tracks chased by Floren and his brothers. They came right into the yard, and she grabbed a broom and chased them off, yelling insults.
When they were gone she turned on me in a fit of rage, grabbed me by the ear and dragged me into the house where she kept her switch. While she was beating hell out of me she was yelling, “If I ever see or hear of you running from a fight again this is nothing compared to what you’ll get.”
When my step-dad got home she told him about it and he just shook his head. “Running from a bunch of God-damned Mexicans!”
I went about in disgrace a few days, the story circulating among the adults with me in hearing distance, all of them dumbfounded by my cowardice.
But I never ran from a fight again. I started carrying a heavy stick with me walking home and only had to whack one of those other kids upside the head with it one time. Afterward Floren and I fought a lot of times during recess and I never whipped him, but I took the beatings rather than the alternatives.
This is too lengthy for me to continue where I’m going with it, but it’s necessary background to get in place before going forward in this segment.
Old Jules
So Far From Heaven 
I am very interested in reading the rest of the story. Ignorance creates chaos. We are not born with ethics. We are conditioned by our family, friends, neighbors, teachers, religious affiliations, tribes, etc. This is a sorrowful world. Ignorance continues without abatement.
Hi Anonymous. Thanks for coming by for a read. My personal thought is that chaos was here a longish while and that ignorance is the human condition on our best day. Non-ignorance only exists in contexts of comparisons to what we consider ignorance.
My family considered itself ethical, and by the standards of the time they were ethical to a fault. Same as families today, abdicating the teaching of the kids to schools and television, believe themselves to be ethical and non-ignorant. Probably by the standards of today they might be both, which isn’t quite the same as saying they’re actually ethical and non-ignorant. Gracias, Jules
How about a couple of thousand years of “male evolution?” This is a very interesting story. The gerbil keeps turning on the wheel of the world – ignorant. Violence passed down from one generation to the next – here we are!
livy1234. Yep, here we are! Take a ride on the great mandala. Thanks for the visit. Jules
Really enjoyed reading that. I want to know more 🙂
Hi Clare: I’ll be adding more. Thanks for the visit and expression of interest. Jules
As a person that identifies with both the race of Filipinos as well as the class of would-be mountain men I hold this article in very high esteem. I have friends that come from this background that find it very difficult to allow the blacks, mexicans and natives a chance in their homes because of this history. They do give them a chance anyways. I know those were tough times. I applaud your strength, both physically and lyrically.
Sometime I would like to speak about my experiences in Zimbabwe.
arifmvega: I tend to think all times are tough when life’s happening where the rubber meets the road and isn’t a spectator sport. I’d definitely be interested in your experiences in Zimbabwe. Thanks for the read and the visit. Jules
I was always a fat wimp, but never faced any extended bullying. In junior high, I finally ran across someone wimpier than me, but after only a single taste of being the bully, I hated it still. That didn’t prevent the instinct from raising its ugly head now and then, but I’ve always hated it. After I discovered a talent for weight lifting, among other strengths, bullying pretty much disappeared from my life. Your story should be very interesting.
Morning Ed. Glad you came by. I’ve sometimes wondered whether there were overweight kids who didn’t take to trouble over at Lindsey Grade School, and how they made out. There were plenty of them at the other schools and I don’t recall them suffering too much if they had parents in the acceptable [not-to-be-messed-with] part of society. But I do recall a couple who were in the same position as I was who happened to be, I thought at the time, not as tough as I was. One of them hangs a bit on my conscience because of the bullying I did on him, and a few others. I’ll be telling a bit about him, my bullying phase, and when it ended with a kid named Johnny Kopachenski, who surprised me after a considerable public buildup and fanfare. As always, I appreciate your visit and input. Jules
I see bullying as a natural (though undesirable) evolution of consciousness in human behavior. I think it’s about learning about power. Certain kids who are bigger or stronger than others test their strength by bullying weaker kids. Weaker kids are helpless until they figure out how to handle their fear.
I was bullied by one girl about twice my size until I got so blinding mad I attacked her. She ran like a rabbit and never bothered me again.
My son was small for his age, and when he came home and told me about a kid who was bullying him, I told him to pick up the biggest stick he could find and hit the kid with it, he did, and the kid didn’t any more. Sometimes I think this is the best way to teach bullies, although it is politically incorrect. Ha.
Some adults are kids grown up who never stopped bullying the other kids. This is an interesting subject, and I am looking forward to reading more. Thanks.
Hi You Were Born to Succeed: Thanks for the visit and the observations. I’m gradually working up to a somewhat comprehensive theory about bullying as a phenomenon, but I’m moving forward somewhat slowly in the doing of it. Gracias, Jules
Great story Jules. That must have been tough! I got bullied a bit in 7th grade…problem there was one of the bullies would always flash his knife…fortunately I had some 8th grade friends that he was scared of so I got out of that one alive. Looking forward to future upcoming pieces.
Hi Tincup: It wasn’t particularly bad, compared to what kids the world over have experienced from the beginning of time until around 1970 or so. Thanks for the visit. Jules
this post brought back so many memories, from the music to the fights with the bullies and gangs that terrorized the school yards…(~_~)
zendictive: Always good seeing you. Thanks for coming by. Jules
Jules, this puts me in mind fof a scene from “Black Boy” Richard Wright’s brilliant autobiography. Summon that one up if you can. Think yyou might enjoy it.
Hi Cletis. Nice seeing you and thanks for the tip. I’ll keep an eye open for it. Gracias, Jules
Bullying is the shortest distance between A and Z in a brain that hasn’t had a chance to develop well. Won’t say normally, don’t know what it means. If you have been bullied you will bully in your turn. Intimidation now, that’s a whole different business. Malice aforethought.
Anon: And malice afterthought, too. Jules
Bullying is the shortest distance between A to Z in a brain that hasn’t been allowed to develop well. I won’t say normal, I don’t know what that means.
Intimidation now, that’s a whole different matter. Malice aforethought.
Kristin: A to Z is a long dusty road. Thanks for coming this far on it. Jules