7 STAND UP AND BE COUNTED!

When we lived in Old Shasta, California there was a bully named Billy, who moved in across the dirt road from us. For some unknown reason he liked to pick on everyone, especially me. Once he swung his metal lunch bucket at me and hit me in the forehead. I received a nice cut that bled freely for several minutes.

One day on the way home from school, Billy was his usual obnoxious self, and feeling his oats. He approached me and announced, "I'm tougher than you are!" I shrugged my shoulders and said, "Okay." I then continued to walk towards home. Billy ran after me and said, "I can beat you up. Watch!" He then slugged me in the jaw. I did not want to fight so continued to walk towards home. Billy ran after me and again slugged me in the jaw. This continued most of the way home with Billy bragging and slugging, and me hurting and counting.
Finally, about 30 yards from our home and after 26 hits on the jaw, I lost my temper! By this time about 15 neighborhood kids had gathered around, including my sister, Marilyn. Now Marilyn was four years older than I was and kind of a mother figure. At least she bossed me around alot. She enthusiastically encouraged me to, "Teach ole Billy a lesson!"

Being the obedient brother that I am, I waded into Billy and we began to slug it out. Billy would come at me with his head down, swinging both hands like windmills. Since I was a little taller than Billy, when I stood up tall and I had a little longer arms, it only seemed natural in my defense to do what I did next. I reached over Billy's bent over body and grabbed his T-shirt and pulled it up over his head. Then I began to hit him back while he was trying to uncover his head. This routine happened several times amidst the cheers and hollering of the neighborhood crowd. Billy kept calling me a "no good yellow-bellied coward!"

When the dust cleared I had a bloody nose and a black eye. Billy on the other hand, had a bloody nose and two black eyes. My sister immediately stepped forward and declared her brother the undisputed champion and began to lead me home. I was so angry that I wanted to keep fighting and to really teach Billy a lesson. My sister kept pulling me away, so in frustration, I laid down on the ground and refused to go any further.

Marilyn grabbed my arm and drug me home; announcing to everyone that the boy she was dragging home was as tough as nails and the champ of the neighborhood. My mother was in shock when she saw my bloody face. Marilyn quickly gave a blow by blow account of how her brother had taught the bully, Billy a lesson that he would never forget! Much to my surprise I did not get a spanking for fighting and better yet, Billy never bothered me again.

LESSON LEARNED
Please do not misunderstand. I am not suggesting that we fight our way through life. I'm all for turning the other cheek, or jaw, and avoiding confrontations. Most of the time we just need to "walk on home." However, there are times when it is best to stand up for ourselves and be counted; to stand up for our families, our religion and our country and for what is right and decent in this world. And . . . it doesn't hurt to have a Marilyn around to back you up once in awhile.