Of Bullies and Best Friends

Although I was always a very shy, brainy kid, I wasn't bullied as much as one might expect. Maybe because I was always taller than most of my classmates or more likely, because my dad was a principal in the same school system, so kids tended to leave me alone.

That wasn't the case with Ed Berry though. We were in 5th grade -- I was 10, he was 13. Yes, he as 13 and in 5th grade. And in me, Ed saw a quiet kid who would give up his seat in the lunchroom rather than risk getting beaten up.

This went on for a couple of weeks until I felt the need to do something. But what? I brought it up at a family gathering and asked for everyone's opinion (always the nerd). I don't recall most of the discussion, but I know my dear grandmother had a simple solution. "Pick up a rock," she said. She literally wanted me to carry around a big ol' rock & bash Ed in the head with it the next time he asked for my seat.

Although we continue to laugh at my grandmother's advice to this day, I did not in fact take it. That was a bit too violent for my tastes. I ended up just saying no. I made the decision that no matter what happened, I would not give up my seat the next time Ed came around. Sure enough, it worked. He told me to give him my seat, I said no, and he looked stunned. He did attemp to grab my arm and pull me out, but I completely relaxed my body and slumped in the chair at my full dead weight. He quickly gave up & I don't believe we had another interaction of any kind the rest of our lives.

But something really interesting and special did happen. Ed's sister, Barbara Berry, started talking to me. She was also very shy & although I knew her, I had never really spoken to her before. But she hated Ed as much as I did, so we bonded.

We laughed. That was pretty much the basis of our friendship (and there are a lot worse things to base a friendship on, beleive me). We loved to laugh. We laughed at the stupid stories we read in class, we laughed at funny things our teacher said, we laughed when someone fell down on the playground, we just laughed. Many times it got so bad, we couldn't look at each other during class or we would crack up and get in trouble.

We laughed and we played tricks on each other. Barbara loved to catch me first thing in the morning and mess up my hair because then she knew I'd have to go through the entire day with wild, crazy hair. (I've always had big, bushy hair that is hard to control if it isn't kept short.) We stole each other's pencils, tied each other's shoe laces together, drew faces on each other's homework.

The only thing about Barbara, though, it was basically impossible to get past the joking exterior. I wouldn't have known at the time what to call it, but now I'd say she was guarded. She didn't really express her feelings. She didn't want to be vulnerable in any way. That was always a huge challenge for me because I wanted to know she really liked me, that she was really glad we were friends. I certainly was.

She once invited me to ride the bus to her house after school & I jumped at the chance. Maybe this was her way to saying the friendship was important to her. She didn't live in a house though. She lived in the projects -- some really run-down apartments on Ida Street, just a few blocks from our school. Although this was in the middle of the afternoon when I imagined all the adults to be at work, there were people everywhere. Men and older boys standing around oustide and in the hallways, smoking, cursing, yelling. It was so loud. I will not lie -- I got scared. I told Barbara I needed to call my mom to come pick me up. I know I really hurt Barbara's feelings & I still sometimes think about that.

We remained friends, but I could never get her to open up in the way I wanted. And at this point, I don't even know what I was wanting from her. I was just a sensitive, sappy little boy who felt something was missing. I remember thinking the yearbook would be the perfect opportunity for her to share *something*, but she didn't. I think she wrote: "Keep laughing, Jason!" I, of course, wrote some overly verbose paragraph about how bad things (being bullied) can actually turn out good (meeting Barbara). She never even mentioned what I wrote either.

Finally, on the last day of 5th grade, I got something. As we were walking away from each other toward our separate buses, she turned & said, "I'm going to miss you, Jason." Although I tried hard not to, I cried on the way home that day. I understood and Barbara understood something that others, especially the adults, did not. We weren't just saying goodbye for the summer, but forever.

Sixth grade was a whole new world with hundreds of more kids & she'd be hanging out with the black kids & I'd be hanging out with the white kids. And we'd probably even pretend like we hardly knew each other.

And sure enough, that's what happened.

'09 Garden

I am gardening this year, as usual. Just haven't been blogging regularly enough to let my avid reader(s) know about it.

Thanks to some early rain this spring, things are looking pretty good. Especially the tomatoes.

I have seven tomato plants, six in whiskey barrels & one in a Topsy-Turvy hanging planter. I thought I would experiment with that as I wasn't sure how much damage the dogs might do to my garden. So far, they've done no damage, but I'm glad to be testing the TT anyway. If it works, I might do a whole bunch of them next year.

It was 90+ degrees when these photos were taken, so the wilt is just from mid-day sun. In general, the plants are doing very well.

Tomatoes





Squash



Lemon basil




Peppers




Eggplant




Ella