Last night's dream came from way in the past. It happened in the seventh grade. There was a bully in the lunch room. The boy was a ninth grader and huge. He looked just like Lumpy Rutherford. He used to come around with his friends and take the seventh graders deserts. I was just a skinny little pencil necked kid. He took my desert off of the table and I stood up. That rage that I have come to know and fear welled up. He punched me in the stomach and I fell to the floor. I considered staying ther but I didn't. I knew I was going to get a beating but it didn't seem to matter. I whacked him one in the eye and he started crying. The next day there was a conference in the principals office. The bully, his friends, and I were there. So was Mr. Angino who was the truant officer and some other kind of functionary for the school. The bully and his friends all said that I started it. I told my version and Mr. Angino said all of the others could leave but that I had to stay. I thought "Oh Boy am I in trouble. I just hope I can keep this from my Father.". When the others had left Mr. Angino said "Nils Holmstrand, are you Nils Holmstrand's son?". I said yes and he began to chuckle. He said " When I was in high school I was a bully. I tried it on your Father on the athletic field and he fractured my jaw. That was the end of my bullying days. Does the vein stand out on your head too?". Several days later my Father sat down beside me and said "The solar plexus is just below the ribs, it is a much better target.". That was all that was ever said. I have four grandsons. They are all going to have to deal with a situation like this. I wish I could advise them. Sometimes you have to take a beating. The solar plexus is still a much better target. It is too hard to just walk away. I don't know why big guys are bullys. My brother is a giant but I have never met a gentler or more sensitive person. The vein stands out on his head also. Anyone that provokes my brother Paul is lucky to ever walk again. I have only seen such a reaction from him when someone insults or touches his wife or his family. He is not however above disciplining his brother. When we were younger, many times I encountered that catcher's mitt like fist. My Mother would cry and my Father would chuckle. Brothers are like that. They are hard on each other but don't step between them. The dream is from fifty-one years ago. It is nice to know that, somewhere in the recesses of my brain, things are still there. It turned out that Mr. Angino and my Father were life-long friends. His three brothers started Mass Electric Construction Company, which is the largest company of its type in the world. Mr. Angino had gone to college, his three brothers had gone to trade school and were all millionaires. When I went to work for that company, his eldest brother came to the site one day and the foreman introduced me. The brother, Francis, said "Nils Holmstrand huh, that taught the big jerk to keep his hands to himself.". Thoughts from long ago, a simpler time and a more reasonable time.
So when, when , when, do brothers stop constantly smacking each other? Do you and Paul occasionally just haul off and whack each other when no one is looking? We have a big issue with possessions,if I buy all 3 boys exactly identical sandwiches from Checkers, the one I hand the first one to will smirk and tell the others"I got the FIRST ONE!!!". They fight about who will be the tallest when they are adults, who will own the first toy in a series that I am not going to buy for them, who gets the frigging middle seat in the car that I have threatened to yank out of my minivan. But they are the very best friends, too.(or they reserve the right to only cause injury to each other) I have been able to avoid bullies, by taking them out of school, and by moving out of the big house. The only bully they know is me, and Moe from Calvin and Hobbes. But it's good to see the positive that can arise from it.
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Last night's dream came from way in the past. It happened in the seventh grade. There was a bully in the lunch room. The boy was a ninth grader and huge. He looked just like Lumpy Rutherford. He used to come around with his friends and take the seventh graders deserts. I was just a skinny little pencil necked kid. He took my desert off of the table and I stood up. That rage that I have come to know and fear welled up. He punched me in the stomach and I fell to the floor. I considered staying ther but I didn't. I knew I was going to get a beating but it didn't seem to matter. I whacked him one in the eye and he started crying.
The next day there was a conference in the principals office. The bully, his friends, and I were there. So was Mr. Angino who was the truant officer and some other kind of functionary for the school.
The bully and his friends all said that I started it. I told my version and Mr. Angino said all of the others could leave but that I had to stay. I thought "Oh Boy am I in trouble. I just hope I can keep this from my Father.".
When the others had left Mr. Angino said "Nils Holmstrand, are you Nils Holmstrand's son?". I said yes and he began to chuckle. He said " When I was in high school I was a bully. I tried it on your Father on the athletic field and he fractured my jaw. That was the end of my bullying days. Does the vein stand out on your head too?".
Several days later my Father sat down beside me and said "The solar plexus is just below the ribs, it is a much better target.".
That was all that was ever said.
I have four grandsons. They are all going to have to deal with a situation like this. I wish I could advise them. Sometimes you have to take a beating. The solar plexus is still a much better target. It is too hard to just walk away.
I don't know why big guys are bullys. My brother is a giant but I have never met a gentler or more sensitive person. The vein stands out on his head also. Anyone that provokes my brother Paul is lucky to ever walk again. I have only seen such a reaction from him when someone insults or touches his wife or his family. He is not however above disciplining his brother. When we were younger, many times I encountered that catcher's mitt like fist. My Mother would cry and my Father would chuckle. Brothers are like that. They are hard on each other but don't step between them.
The dream is from fifty-one years ago. It is nice to know that, somewhere in the recesses of my brain, things are still there.
It turned out that Mr. Angino and my Father were life-long friends. His three brothers started Mass Electric Construction Company, which is the largest company of its type in the world. Mr. Angino had gone to college, his three brothers had gone to trade school and were all millionaires. When I went to work for that company, his eldest brother came to the site one day and the foreman introduced me. The brother, Francis, said "Nils Holmstrand huh, that taught the big jerk to keep his hands to himself.".
Thoughts from long ago, a simpler time and a more reasonable time.
So when, when , when, do brothers stop constantly smacking each other? Do you and Paul occasionally just haul off and whack each other when no one is looking? We have a big issue with possessions,if I buy all 3 boys exactly identical sandwiches from Checkers, the one I hand the first one to will smirk and tell the others"I got the FIRST ONE!!!". They fight about who will be the tallest when they are adults, who will own the first toy in a series that I am not going to buy for them, who gets the frigging middle seat in the car that I have threatened to yank out of my minivan. But they are the very best friends, too.(or they reserve the right to only cause injury to each other) I have been able to avoid bullies, by taking them out of school, and by moving out of the big house. The only bully they know is me, and Moe from Calvin and Hobbes. But it's good to see the positive that can arise from it.
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