Just a quick note about what happened when I got to high school. The bullying was not as much as junior high. Mainly because there were more people in high school, and some of the bullies were now on the football team or more concerned about partying or passing. There was one guy named Michael, who continued to bully me. He enjoyed throwing me over desks in classrooms. Occasionally, I would be punched in the arm on the way to class, but that didn't happen much. Thankfully, the lockers were too small to be stuffed into.
I will talk more later about my high school experience, but just a follow-up on Michael. He graduated with honors from high school and went on to college. During his first semester, he killed himself. It is said that he did so, because he didn't have any friends. I went to his funeral, as did one other person from our high school class. Michael was a gentle giant who no one understood. I wish I could have been his friend.
Saturday, July 11, 2015
Thursday, July 9, 2015
Junior High
Some people tell me that they are amazed about what a good memory I have. It comes from training. When I was training to be an actor, I had to bring up memories to use as character development for plays. I worked long and hard to increase my memory power. Good actors do this all the time. It is called "sense memory". I say that to say this: I do not remember a lot about my experiences in junior high, because I have blocked most of it out. Much of it is a blur. I remember a few things out of necessity. Why?
I was bullied. I was beat up every day for three years. The key to the bullying was for the bully not to draw blood or for me to have any visible bruises. It was almost like a science. There was the physical abuse, but also the mental abuse.
The physical abuse came in many forms: being thrown down steps; punched; kicked; being thrown into bushes; spat on; being stuffed into lockers; and whatever other creative ways they could think of. In my eighth grade annual, I marked all of the kids who had done something to me. Most of the kids were marked. Some of their pictures were blackened out by me. Sometimes, I would tell my teachers about the abuse. The bully would get into trouble, and then I would be beaten worse after school by the bully, so I learned not to tell and just take it. The bullies thought it was funny. I think there were about 6 main bullies that beat me up on a regular basis, but there were a lot more who joined in. Some of them stemmed from the 6th grade scandal, when I told on them for fixing the fight between Tom and me. But, many of the bullies did not know me prior to 7th grade. On one occasion that I remember, I was standing in a line of boys in P.E. class, and the bully behind me started spitting on the back of my legs. He continued to do it, until I could not take anymore, and I turned around and spit on his stomach. The teacher saw what I did, and I was called into his office after class and was paddled by him with a big fraternity paddle. He said, "Bend over and grab your ankles." So much for responding to the bully. On a Saturday, a friend and I were walking down a road in our neighborhood, when we were confronted by three of the bullies. They told my friend not to do anything, and then they threw me into a rose bush, which cut me up. I went home, and told my Mother. She called the police. The police "investigated" and determined that "boys will be boys". Oddly, one of those bullies grew up to be a decorated police officer. My parents also learned that they could do nothing.
The mental abuse was a bit more. I was told that I was no good. Nobody liked me. I had very few friends. Even one science teacher, during an experiment where I was to report my findings, told me that my findings were wrong, and I could not have seen what I did. I had a cyst on the back of my ear, which was full of pus and blood. I had very bad acne during this time. One of the kids drew a cyst hanging from my ear to the ground on the blackboard before class. Everyone laughed. The teacher came into class and asked why everyone was laughing. Someone pointed to the board. She started laughing too.
My parents saw the toll this was taking on me, but they didn't know the half of it. I did have one friend, who I knew from church. Her name was Gayle. (She passed away a few years ago) Gayle recognized that I had a talent for writing, music and acting. She suggested that I use my talents to escape from the bullies. I took her advice, and that is how I really began my creative journey.
Meanwhile, the bullies continued. In the 9th grade, I got the bright idea to design a robot, which would protect me from the bullies. I drew this robot, which would stand 4 ft. tall and would send out lasers to hurt the bullies. As they were about the beat me up again, I pulled out the drawing of the robot, and explained to them that I would unleash the robot on them. They started to believe me, because they knew I had a high IQ. Of course, the robot didn't exist. But, I did buy some time from getting beat up. But one day, the bullies called my bluff and wanted to see the robot. Of course, I couldn't produce it, so the time lost from them not beating me up was added to the beatings, and they got worse.
I think I could tell you one or two more stories, but you get the picture. One interesting side note to all of this happened in 2001. I went to my 30th high school reunion. Mainly on a dare. I saw some of the bullies from junior high there at that party. I didn't say anything to them, and they didn't say anything to me. About a week later, I got an email from one who said that he had seen me at the party and was too ashamed to come over and say hello. He had remembered what he and the others had done to me, and he felt remorse. He apologized to me, and asked for forgiveness. I forgave him, and now we are good friends. Time heals some wounds.
I was bullied. I was beat up every day for three years. The key to the bullying was for the bully not to draw blood or for me to have any visible bruises. It was almost like a science. There was the physical abuse, but also the mental abuse.
The physical abuse came in many forms: being thrown down steps; punched; kicked; being thrown into bushes; spat on; being stuffed into lockers; and whatever other creative ways they could think of. In my eighth grade annual, I marked all of the kids who had done something to me. Most of the kids were marked. Some of their pictures were blackened out by me. Sometimes, I would tell my teachers about the abuse. The bully would get into trouble, and then I would be beaten worse after school by the bully, so I learned not to tell and just take it. The bullies thought it was funny. I think there were about 6 main bullies that beat me up on a regular basis, but there were a lot more who joined in. Some of them stemmed from the 6th grade scandal, when I told on them for fixing the fight between Tom and me. But, many of the bullies did not know me prior to 7th grade. On one occasion that I remember, I was standing in a line of boys in P.E. class, and the bully behind me started spitting on the back of my legs. He continued to do it, until I could not take anymore, and I turned around and spit on his stomach. The teacher saw what I did, and I was called into his office after class and was paddled by him with a big fraternity paddle. He said, "Bend over and grab your ankles." So much for responding to the bully. On a Saturday, a friend and I were walking down a road in our neighborhood, when we were confronted by three of the bullies. They told my friend not to do anything, and then they threw me into a rose bush, which cut me up. I went home, and told my Mother. She called the police. The police "investigated" and determined that "boys will be boys". Oddly, one of those bullies grew up to be a decorated police officer. My parents also learned that they could do nothing.
The mental abuse was a bit more. I was told that I was no good. Nobody liked me. I had very few friends. Even one science teacher, during an experiment where I was to report my findings, told me that my findings were wrong, and I could not have seen what I did. I had a cyst on the back of my ear, which was full of pus and blood. I had very bad acne during this time. One of the kids drew a cyst hanging from my ear to the ground on the blackboard before class. Everyone laughed. The teacher came into class and asked why everyone was laughing. Someone pointed to the board. She started laughing too.
My parents saw the toll this was taking on me, but they didn't know the half of it. I did have one friend, who I knew from church. Her name was Gayle. (She passed away a few years ago) Gayle recognized that I had a talent for writing, music and acting. She suggested that I use my talents to escape from the bullies. I took her advice, and that is how I really began my creative journey.
Meanwhile, the bullies continued. In the 9th grade, I got the bright idea to design a robot, which would protect me from the bullies. I drew this robot, which would stand 4 ft. tall and would send out lasers to hurt the bullies. As they were about the beat me up again, I pulled out the drawing of the robot, and explained to them that I would unleash the robot on them. They started to believe me, because they knew I had a high IQ. Of course, the robot didn't exist. But, I did buy some time from getting beat up. But one day, the bullies called my bluff and wanted to see the robot. Of course, I couldn't produce it, so the time lost from them not beating me up was added to the beatings, and they got worse.
I think I could tell you one or two more stories, but you get the picture. One interesting side note to all of this happened in 2001. I went to my 30th high school reunion. Mainly on a dare. I saw some of the bullies from junior high there at that party. I didn't say anything to them, and they didn't say anything to me. About a week later, I got an email from one who said that he had seen me at the party and was too ashamed to come over and say hello. He had remembered what he and the others had done to me, and he felt remorse. He apologized to me, and asked for forgiveness. I forgave him, and now we are good friends. Time heals some wounds.
Tuesday, July 7, 2015
The Fight
Tom Phillips was my best friend in 6th grade. He had a hamster. One day, I went over to his house, and he said that his hamster liked to play in hair. I told him that I was afraid it would use my hair as its bathroom. Tom assured me that the hamster had already done it, so it was safe to have him play in my hair. So, I put the hamster on top of my head, and it went to the bathroom on my head. Tom thought that was funny. I didn't, but we were still best friends. We both loved "The Man from UNCLE" and would play it every chance we got. One time, his mother was doing something at the Town Theatre, and she took us downtown at night, while she was rehearsing. We had a great time playing spy downtown.
Tom's mother wore pants most of the time. My Mother wore dresses all of the time. The other kids in the class noticed this and tried to get Tom and me to fight for the honor of our mothers. We didn't want to fight each other, because we were friends, but the pressure mounted. Tom got caught up in the pressure from the other boys in the class, so he started to taunt me about a fight. My Mother would come and pick me up in the afternoon after school, so I would hurry to her car, before the fight would start. This went on for three days. Finally, I said okay, so we planned to fight after school. We actually planned to just run around and slap at one another. So after school, a circle of boys surrounded us, and we started to run around in the circle and slap one another. Dust began to come up from the playground, and a teacher came out and stopped the fight. Tom and I were taken to the principal's office.
The principal knew us, and he knew we would not have done this unless we were coaxed to do it. He asked Tom who had started it, and Tom wouldn't say. Then, he asked me, and I named names. Pretty much all of the boys in our class except for two. The problem was that we were patrol officers. That was a pretty big position for a 6th grader. We were able to roam the school and look for kids out of class. We were able to stop traffic in front of school to let kids cross the street. To be on patrol was a huge honor. Not all of the kids were chosen. We even had badges. But now, I told on the other patrol officers as being those who started the fight. The principal called them into his office and removed them from patrol duty. The other two boys, who didn't participate, were given patrol duty. There were normally six patrolmen at any one time. Now, there were only two.
The kids, who got in trouble, didn't speak to me again. In fact, some of them still do not speak to me to this day. It was almost like Watergate for the 6th grade.
Tom's mother wore pants most of the time. My Mother wore dresses all of the time. The other kids in the class noticed this and tried to get Tom and me to fight for the honor of our mothers. We didn't want to fight each other, because we were friends, but the pressure mounted. Tom got caught up in the pressure from the other boys in the class, so he started to taunt me about a fight. My Mother would come and pick me up in the afternoon after school, so I would hurry to her car, before the fight would start. This went on for three days. Finally, I said okay, so we planned to fight after school. We actually planned to just run around and slap at one another. So after school, a circle of boys surrounded us, and we started to run around in the circle and slap one another. Dust began to come up from the playground, and a teacher came out and stopped the fight. Tom and I were taken to the principal's office.
The principal knew us, and he knew we would not have done this unless we were coaxed to do it. He asked Tom who had started it, and Tom wouldn't say. Then, he asked me, and I named names. Pretty much all of the boys in our class except for two. The problem was that we were patrol officers. That was a pretty big position for a 6th grader. We were able to roam the school and look for kids out of class. We were able to stop traffic in front of school to let kids cross the street. To be on patrol was a huge honor. Not all of the kids were chosen. We even had badges. But now, I told on the other patrol officers as being those who started the fight. The principal called them into his office and removed them from patrol duty. The other two boys, who didn't participate, were given patrol duty. There were normally six patrolmen at any one time. Now, there were only two.
The kids, who got in trouble, didn't speak to me again. In fact, some of them still do not speak to me to this day. It was almost like Watergate for the 6th grade.
Monday, July 6, 2015
4th Grade Christmas
I had started my drama career in kindergarten, but my first lines came in 4th grade. I was cast as a Wise Man (again) in the 4th grade Christmas Pageant. And, I was the only one with lines. Actually, it was only one line, and I can't tell you what it was, although it was probably something about bringing gifts to the child, but there was an enormous amount of pressure to get it right. I was practicing backstage. I was practicing before entering. When I got onto the stage, I mumbled something, and the play went on. It was not a stellar performance by me, and one I would rather forget. I understood pressure. I learned later how to deal with it. It also started a life long problem with stage fright. I guess my teacher, Mrs. McCuen, saw something in me that warranted those lines. Maybe she "discovered" me. At any rate, it would be years later before the drama bug would bite me.
Saturday, July 4, 2015
Sharks
There have been a lot of shark attacks recently, so I wanted to share my shark story. I had an uncle and aunt who lived in Jacksonville, FL. We spent one weekend with them. In fact, that has been the only time I have been to Florida, believe it or not. So, we went down to the beach and saw some commotion. There were 12 baby sharks that had washed up on shore, and they were laid out in a row at the edge of the water. About 100 yards off shore, we could see a full-grown shark swimming back and forth. It was the mother of the babies looking for its young. Very said to see, and you didn't see any humans going out there either. This was long before "Jaws", and there were some very smart people with common sense. Don't go in the water.
Thursday, July 2, 2015
DC
As mentioned previously, we went to Atlantic City in 1964. We were first booked into a hotel that had corn shuck mattresses. We couldn't stay there, so we moved to a nicer hotel. It had a macaw in the lobby and skeet ball for the kids. It was fun to go on the Boardwalk, but I also saw the places the tourists aren't supposed to see like the rundown apartments. I also wanted to go in the ocean, but it was absolutely freezing in that water in June.
But, back to our trip. We first got to Washington, DC. Our nation's capital. As a kid, I loved the Smithsonian. We also toured the White House and did all of the monuments. We were distantly related to Senator Strom Thurmond, and he got us passes to the Senate. We also got a behind the scenes tour of the Capitol, including a train ride underground between buildings. That was cool. We got to eat in a restaurant underground, and ride an elevator for Senators. When the elevator doors opened, there was Barry Goldwater. My Mother almost fainted. All she could do was shake his hand. She didn't wash that hand for the rest of the day.
After leaving Atlantic City, we went to New York to the World's Fair. I liked riding the tram and seeing the Pieta, but I couldn't stand, and still can't stand, the song "It's A Small World". They debuted the song there, and that was a tragedy. We also toured the United Nations and the Empire State Building.
As we were driving back home, we stopped at a motel in Silver Spring, MD for the night. I had my teddy bear with me. Teddy was my best friend. I left him at the motel accidentally, when we left the next morning. When we got home, I realized that Teddy was still in Maryland, so I got very upset, and my parents called the motel. The manager said they had not seen Teddy. We figured a maid gave it to their child, so I hope Teddy had a good time in Maryland and still cheers up a child somewhere.
But, back to our trip. We first got to Washington, DC. Our nation's capital. As a kid, I loved the Smithsonian. We also toured the White House and did all of the monuments. We were distantly related to Senator Strom Thurmond, and he got us passes to the Senate. We also got a behind the scenes tour of the Capitol, including a train ride underground between buildings. That was cool. We got to eat in a restaurant underground, and ride an elevator for Senators. When the elevator doors opened, there was Barry Goldwater. My Mother almost fainted. All she could do was shake his hand. She didn't wash that hand for the rest of the day.
After leaving Atlantic City, we went to New York to the World's Fair. I liked riding the tram and seeing the Pieta, but I couldn't stand, and still can't stand, the song "It's A Small World". They debuted the song there, and that was a tragedy. We also toured the United Nations and the Empire State Building.
As we were driving back home, we stopped at a motel in Silver Spring, MD for the night. I had my teddy bear with me. Teddy was my best friend. I left him at the motel accidentally, when we left the next morning. When we got home, I realized that Teddy was still in Maryland, so I got very upset, and my parents called the motel. The manager said they had not seen Teddy. We figured a maid gave it to their child, so I hope Teddy had a good time in Maryland and still cheers up a child somewhere.
Wednesday, July 1, 2015
Billy Graham
In the summer of 1963, my parents and I were at Ridgecrest Conference Center in NC, where my father was leading a conference on Sunday School work. My Mother and I were there, because it was kind of like our vacation. One afternoon, the phone rang at our room, and it was Billy Graham. Billy lived in Montreat, which was only a few miles from Ridgecrest. He asked my father if he wanted to come over for dinner that night and to bring the family. My father knew Billy Graham from his work. Daddy said no thank you, because he explained he was leading this conference. My Mother and I were furious at Daddy, but what could we do?
The next summer, we went to Atlantic City NJ for the Southern Baptist Convention. Billy Graham was the keynote speaker. After his speech, my father took me up front, and I met Billy Graham. He looked to be a giant of a man. As I was shaking his hand, Daddy explained to him that this meeting got him out of the dog house for passing up on the dinner the year before. Billy and Daddy had a good laugh over that. I got very emotional, because I had just met Billy Graham.
The next summer, we went to Atlantic City NJ for the Southern Baptist Convention. Billy Graham was the keynote speaker. After his speech, my father took me up front, and I met Billy Graham. He looked to be a giant of a man. As I was shaking his hand, Daddy explained to him that this meeting got him out of the dog house for passing up on the dinner the year before. Billy and Daddy had a good laugh over that. I got very emotional, because I had just met Billy Graham.
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