The Name That I Have
This week’s CITD is from 2 years ago, in memory of my Dad. All-new post up next Friday. Happy Father’s Day, Pop. Miss you.
Odd that just the other day President Obama held a conference at the White House on bullying, because that was the very topic of my next post.
At the conference the president said, “If there’s one goal [of the conference], it’s to dispel the myth that bullying is just a harmless rite of passage.”
The POTUS even confessed to his own tussles. “With big ears and the name that I have, I wasn’t immune. I didn’t emerge unscathed.”
Let’s step back to 1970–72, after we’d just moved to Minnesota, and look at my history as a victim of bullying, since little is said of it in the journals of 1973–74.
Although I didn’t write about it at the time, a lot comes back clearly—too clearly actually—when I think of that locus, that inner circle of hell where bullying freely consorts with the demons and the damned—
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