At different times in our lives, we all have been bullied. During these episodes, we either fought back or just gave up — it happens both ways.
The bullying I had to endure as a child came to me at different times in my life. I thank God it was not bullying that went on for years on end as some have had to endure. My first bullying took place at the young age of 5. Even at that age, I was not one who would be pushed around and not give back as good as I had received.
The first time I was to experience being bullied — but not the last — would be in the first grade. I had never seen a bus before that first day of school, but here it came. A big yellow tank of a vehicle that roared to a stop.
I was greeted by the driver and told to find a seat. I found a seat and all was fine for the moment. As I sat looking out the bus window, an older boy turned around. He was sitting on his knees looking at me.
He asked me my name and I did reply with Robert Lee. His response was I don’t know you. He then said to me, “That’s a nice shirt you have on.”
I replied with a big smile and told him my mama bought it for me. It’s a school shirt. At that point I thought I had a new friend, only to find out in the next few moments that he was a friend from hell.
He looked at the top button and said, “Do you want that button?” I replied with yes. He then tore the button off and gave it to me.
I was heartbroken. He went to the next button and asked the same question. He promptly tore it off and gave it to me.
I was in shock as to what was happening to me and my new shirt. The question was asked again, this time I responded with no. That button was thrown out the window.
At the end of the bus ride to school I had four buttons in my little hand and there were four buttons on the side of that Tennessee road.
As age goes, I was still a baby at 5 years old. This baby was in tears for the loss of his shirt, but not tears of fear. They were tears of rage.
Then as now, if you make me cry, it’s not about fear. It’s just going to be a bad day for all involved. The only people in my life who made me cry because of fear were my mom and dad, and they gave me good reason for the tears.
When the bus stopped, the bully told me that if I did not bring him a candy bar the next day, he would rip the buttons off again. I only had one more shirt.
At this time I did the only thing I could. I shoved my right thumb into his left eye and busted his nose with my left fist. With his nose swollen up like a water balloon, his eyes filled with tears also — but not for the same reason as mine.
First day at school. First day in the principal’s office. First day I got five licks with the leather strap. Now there were tears of fear — not for any man, but for that leather strap.
I had to shake hands and make up. That’s what the bully thought. I was raised by a Southern mother who taught me to have a strong backbone, and I do. I was taught to fight back and I did.
Now for that bully, I did bring him a candy bar. The only candy bar I could find. I took it out of the wrapper it was in and put it in tinfoil to protect it.
That candy bar’s name was Ex-Lax. I think that’s French for candy.
I want you to know he ate that whole bar and did not share it with anybody. Funny thing, a bit later in the day he had to go home.
He didn’t even come to school the next day. It all had something to do with his belly. I guess it was one of them bugs you hear about.
Bullies come and go — it’s all part of life, you just can’t let one stand on your back forever. You have to throw them off. Whatever it takes.
I guess I was about 9 years old when my family moved to Detroit. This was a fun-filled year for a small backwoods Southern boy from Tennessee with the name of Robert Lee. I love history I always have , but that year still rides on my back and in my mind.
The school year had already started and I came in a bit late, but just in time to study right along with them damn Yankees about the War of Northern Aggression. Here I am, the only Southerner in the class. It was hell to pay, and pay I did.
There was nothing I could do, not at that point in the game. That was a game of fox and hounds. Guess who the fox was?
In class it was not real bad, but bad enough. At least there was a teacher to keep the torment down a bit. That was at a time when students had respect and fear of the teacher — I think more fear in some cases. That helped save me from total torture at school.
As General Grant fought his battles in the history book, this Robert Lee was also fighting, but my field of battle came in the gym. It was not that I was bullied by the whole class, this was not the case. My torment came to me in the form of one Danny Thompson.
Danny was a big boy bigger than most — the reason he had failed the fifth grade twice. Not the brightest child, but an angry child to say the least.
The reason I said the gym was my battleground was the fact that we were now involved in wrestling at this time in class. From the time I was a small child, I have been a wrestler. This was the only place I could beat Danny. I got punched in the head by Danny on the playground and could not do much because of his size. In the gym, we started on the floor and it was a different story.
On the ground, his size did not matter. I used my small size to crawl all over him. My favorite hold was a headlock — I got him every time and did try to choke him to death. When I had him on the ground, I was like a little spider monkey riding on a big dog’s back.
It was the only time I had the upper hand. After class, same old thing popped in the head and the chase was on. The fox could always outrun the hound.
There is a breaking point that we all come to, and mine was at hand. It was Christmas time and I told Mama all I wanted was a real bow and some arrows.
Mama was not a fool — she knows her child better than all others. She knew the reason why I wanted the bow. Not to let her son down completely, she did get me a bow and arrows. I, too, was not foolish. I took the arrows that had rubber stoppers on them and removed them. I then took Mama’s kitchen knife and sharpened those “Mama make-believe” arrows.
I was fed up with Danny Thompson. “Psychos ‘r’ us” comes at a young age when you are tormented. All it took was someone sending an arrow through someone’s window. The bully was now the bullied.
The statute of limitations has now run its course for that assault — for whoever did it. When you get pushed, you push back. I don’t believe in turning the other cheek, then or now.
One more thing: If you want one of those French Ex-Lax candy bars, I can find you one. I would be more than happy to share with you.
Robert Lee is a concerned citizen and U.S. Marine veteran who owns and operates Rockingham Guns and Ammo. His column appears here each Saturday.