The “Why” behind the Fort Hood attack from an American Muslim’s perspective

As I pulled my truck into the garage tonight I caught a portion of a story on NPR discussing the possible motives behind the Fort Hood massacre last week.  

 “Maybe  Hasan just snapped from dealing with the trauma of counseling soldiers coming back from the battlefield.” 

    I thought to myself- are the “experts” really that stupid???  I’ve been reading and trying to understand the “why behind  Islamic terrorist attacks  around the world  for the  past  three years and it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to tell you why- heck they (the terrorists)  have been telling us “why” right along- Why do some of us  refuse  to take  them at their word?

    One of my regular and trusted sources is from a fellow Muslim-  M. Zuhdi Jasser, MD

    If you’d like a concise, readable, and reasonable explanation (from a Muslim perspective )  I would highly recommend subscribing to this website  : http://www.aifdemocracy.org/

 M. Zuhdi Jasser, MD is a Muslim,  a family physician, and an American, who served our country in the military.   Here is a video clip of him discussing the recent attack at Ft Hood:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DkbFVVi9618

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America at War- Through the eyes of one soldier

      

  Veterans Day I saw this posting from  my friend Steve on facebook  :

    Today is Veterans day- the next person who says “Thank you for your service” I’m going to ask them exactly what they are talking about.   We weren’t defending America from people in black pajamas and keeping them from invading the US any more than the Iraqi’s or the Afghan people intend to make an attack on the US, so what was I doing beyond insuring war profiteers made a goodly amount of money at my and my brothers expense.”

   

     I asked  Steve  if he would tell me his story from the beginning-  even if it turned into a book.  Here is his first installment:

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         “I recall that many of us in the high school class of 1968 were nearing the end of what could be considered normal adolescence. The Tet offensive in Vietnam in early January was a touch of reality none of us wanted to face. For many, and especially the ones who had pretty much been passed over as not college material, the potential of impending death or possible maiming was beyond what anyone wanted to really consider. We were young, dumb, and full of…well, you get the idea. Since we were all doing this slow race to the finish of school, and because it really was a period of oddly different sorts of possibilities, everybody seemed to take on a care less approach, and that included those who were college bound. I seem to recall the Iowa Tests of Basic Skills as a period of swiftly filling in dots in random patterns. The resulting poor scores was something that made our class an anomaly of the worst sort, especially to those attempting to educate us! Our Junior year was no different than our Senior year in high school. We out showed the senior class in our ability to make trouble or accomplish goals beyond the usual when it had to do with something other than education!

        When a miscreant senior reduced our huge pile of fire wood to ashes less than three days from the annual homecoming snake dance and bonfire, we managed to regroup and rebuild beyond the original bonfire pile by hauling anything and everything we could find that would burn. We worked night and day to accomplish our rather meaningless goal. By the time of the parade and snake dance came to a halt around the huge bonfire, several others and yours truly had reduced a house in Sand Spring to the foundation. The coup de grace was a huge three holer out house; it somehow managed to find a place of honor on the very top of the bonfire pile. From whence this huge edifice came, I will never tell. Suffice to say it was never missed by its original owners who knew nothing of its’ removal.

       The beer parties and near weekly theft of case after case of beer from the beer trucks parked in the middle of a major street in Monticello, never were detected. these “resources” pooled with the many other sources of alcohol and beer that came from straight up buying it in Cascade or from friends, managed to keep the party atmosphere alive and well.

         Many of us were not involved with the local party scene, we had moved on to other areas of mayhem in communities where we were known more for other abilities and not so much for the money we had. So long as someone had a vehicle and enough gas, we were celebrating our last days of school at dances in Prairieburg, Stanwood, and even occasionally Cedar Falls. Chasing women and drinking beer was a pretty good avocation and most of my buddies had jobs during school hours that helped finance our after hours education.

          Although we were a fun loving lot, occasionally we would have to consider our options for the future. I had considered going to school at Kirkwood, it was so very new no one had much of an idea what it would mean to even graduate from there. At that time “there” was nothing more than a few rented buildings and about as fly by night as we were! Some of my friends did go and somehow, by the luck of the draw, averted the military. Had I waited, I too would probably not be the person I am today, simply because the lottery would have passed me over. I was not to become aware of that fact until I had already spent about eight months in Vietnam, dam the luck! Somehow, I ended up talking to John Cook, who at that time was a cop in Monticello. He knew, he absolutely knew, who needed to be pointed in a direction so he wouldn’t have to contend with some of us! Somehow he made that reality of making a choice that would prevent one from the potential of humping the boondocks AND at the same time get you a free education doing something you liked to do anyway seem so, well, shall we say, alluring? On the face of it, how could you go wrong? There was still the possibility you might not go to Vietnam, and besides the beer flowed in the Army for 18 year olds legally and cheaply, both good points. So, in the words of the white haired and wall-eyed old master from Kung Fu, “It was time to chose, Grasshopper!”

        So, I went in to talk to the recruiter, to see what kind of a deal I could get. Initially I decided I wanted to fly, it sounded really cool, go fly a helicopter and become a warrant officer, man, what a deal that would be! Start out in flight school as a sergeant and be paid like a sergeant instead of a peon! The recruiter listened intently, knowing he had the biggest sucker on the face of the earth firmly within his grasp! “How’s you math and algebra skills?” he said in a rather mater of fact way. Well, considering I squeaked through freshman algebra with a D, a C and one F, this was dashing my hopes in a pretty major way. I am so thankful I didn’t end up jockeying one of those flying beer cans in the middle of a turkey shoot! To this day I do not feel any animosity to Mr. Shubeck for his inability to teach me something I just could not comprehend at that time! It could very well have saved my bacon!

          No recruiter worth his salt doesn’t have a Plan “B” for just such an occasion. Noting I was a bit crushed by this opening shot, it was all part of the plan. Well, if you want to fly you can do that without being a pilot. Naturally, thinking in terms of being a passenger instead of being the jockey was not very appealing. So to make it more so, he concluded that since I was not thinking in terms of going to college in the first place there was only two things that interested recruits more, women and wrenches. Noting a certain love of money coming from my speculation that getting paid as a sergeant was better than as a private E-duce, he moved right in on what appeared to be the perfect marriage, sans the woman part! “

        The Army has ‘Critical Need Specialties’ that will accelerate your pay while you are still training”, he said. Looking back, one would have to be an idiot not to see why there was such a critical need for anything in the Army without connecting the dots to Vietnam! Well now, this seemed like a pretty good deal, which was another way of saying, you go recruiter, it is time to sink the hook! Before I know it I was toying with being a Turbine Engine Repairman and by the time I finished my training I was going to be an E-4 ! Now we are talking! None of this private E-1, E-2 and E-3 stuff, we are moving up to being a specialist with equal rank and pay of a Corporal right out the shoot! At the time I wouldn’t have known a turbine engine from my elbow, but what the hay! I was darned sure there was no bullets that came out of it, and one could feel a certain amount of confidence where you worked on an engine would have to have a certain amount of security that came with it.

         All looked good, but I decided and the recruiter concluded it would be a good idea, to go home and think on it before signing up. For whatever reason, letting the line out to let the fish run before dragging him back has always been a good practice for hauling in the big ones! Well it wasn’t but a couple of days and I was back, very self assured I knew exactly what I was getting into, and certainly didn’t feel one bit of pressure from the recruiter. On the other hand I wasn’t encouraged to ask a lot of questions either, and in some of those un asked questions would have been some answers that could easily have let me live out my life as a civilian. To never have gone through this meat grinder, even as a simple wrench bender, would have changed my life. Just being in that place was enough to leave you with a case of PTSD, but. at the time they didn’t even know what that was, for good reason! …(More to come)

My Journey out of Crippling Shyness

 

“The shell must break before the bird can fly. “
       – Tennyson

      Len was a carpenter on my dad’s construction  crew when I was 16.  He was in his 30’s - single, quiet, hard-working, and painfully shy.  I remember thinking to myself ,  - if I didn’t somehow  get a handle on the shyness in my life, I would turn out just like Len -  and that thought   scared the crapola  out of me ( Crapola  is Low German for Hell BTW )   ;-)

     From the 7th grade until my senior year in high school,   I can  count on one hand the number of one on one conversations I had with girls.  That is no lie-  my mind would  go blank, I would mentally freeze.

     In addition to being shy, I  struggled with low self-worth- I’m sure they are interrelated.   I thought I was ugly- my ears were too big, I hated my name, and I was a very late bloomer.   When I read the story of the Ugly Duckling, I totally see myself in that   bird.   

        Shyness does not have to be a life long curse, though I seriously doubt it will go away on its own.  

  Here are some  snippits  from my own journey out of shyness in random order:

 #1 I made a decision-  I was going to rid myself of shyness,- one way or the other. 

#2- I asked for help.  I remember asking two of my  cousins to line me up with some of their friends while I was still in the dating game.  Those first dates helped crack the shell of my shyness

#3  My growth was gradual but real.  To use a word picture- looking back it feels  like I spiraled my way out shyness: 

#4  Side note-  I am thankful for my years of shyness now- Why? 

     Two reasons- It gave me a sensitivity for people who struggle.  Secondly,  I would rather start out shy and learn how to be more confident than start out haughty and turn people off by my arrogance.

#5  I took  a class in conversational skills.    I attended a weekend workshop where we roll played things  like how to have a conversation with a stranger @ a party.  It was fun  !    Being a good conversationalist is a learned skill- what are you waiting for?

#6  I see my inner life as an ongoing personal improvement project.   I read and applied books like    “How to Win Friends and Influence People” by Dale Carnegie.   It should be mandatory reading in school.

#7  Cultivate the spiritual..   Spiritual vitality and inner confidence are  related.

#8   The battle is  won or lost in my  mind-  It had nothing to do with the size of my ears, or my name (both of which I  now appreciate)

     I’ll never be the center of attention at a party or a dance.  I don’t want to be.    That was never my desire. 

To use a word picture, life as a shy person was like listening to music on an AM radio station- vs. listening to good music through a  Bose acoustic wave…you don’t realize what you’re missing until  you have a chance to compare the two.

    How about you?  Do you wrestle with shyness?  In your case- what seems to be the reason(s)?   Do you have any tips for someone else?

 

How to: Not get angry with current events

“All tyranny needs to gain a foothold is for people of good conscience to remain silent.”   Thomas Jefferson

     

Background-  Tonight as I read the  local newspaper, I was  taken back  by the anger  expressed by  one of the candidates for our city council.    He was let go 2 years ago as the administrator of our area ambulance amidst accusations of stealing.    When you start hearing  his side of the story, suddenly it’s not quite as cut and dried as it first seemed….(hold that thought)….

      My first reaction to his anger was to be turned off- .  As he expressed his anger, he was sarcastic, there was  name calling-  It left me feeling like I had licked an ashtray… to be honest, there’s a part of me that thinks he really never had a chance to clear his name and tell his side of the story- but because there is so much anger  now- even  if he’s right, I don’t think he will persuade the people who are undecided.  His  anger is such a turn off

      Now bring that over to  current events-

 Pick any issue:   The recent stimulus bill, the war in Afghanistan, gay rights and the definition of marriage,  health care, Monsanto tampering with our seed supply,  abortion, the national debt, 2nd Amendment rights, Women’s rights, Social Security, immigration, education- charter/private schools/ Our nations response to terrorism, creationism vs. evolution..pick one-  This is not an exhaustive list

Here’s my question-  Is it possible to feel strongly (angry) about any of these things and at the end of the day, not have it consume you?

(all anger is not wrong by the way- it’s what you do with it- IMHO)

I can just hear somebody say, “Let your anger motive you to do something positive.”  Now that sounds great on paper, but  when people who don’t agree with you start calling you names, spreading lies, doing character assassinations, twisting information, etc.   How do you remain calm and respectful and not respond in kind???

      I know 3 people who have intentionally stopped trying to stay abreast of current events because:

 #1-they end up getting angry

#2 They feel powerless to do anything constructive anyway.

Is there a middle road?  What does it look like?   Is it possible to be a positive, effective agent of change w/o being angry?  Are you able to pull this off?  What’s your secret?

Shoulda

   

   There was a light drizzle coming down as I stepped out the back door of the  construction lab this morning at the school where I teach.  We were scheduled to pour a 33 ft by 110 ft section of parking lot first thing this morning on the commercial job I’m  also working at, but due to today’s forecast we decided to put the pour off until tomorrow.  

 Are you with me so far ?  

     As I looked down the street to this second job site, I could see two guys unloading a semi trailer full of steel. 

   “I should be down there helping out  instead of puttering around not getting paid.” 

     I jumped into my Toyota pick up, turning North onto the wet pavement, the “should a”  thoughts (along with some vague uneasy, gnawing feelings) kept playing through my mind like a 30 second infomercial.   

      Logically, I know we could not pour cement while it’s misting.  Logically, I know we are not going to set steel while it’s misting- so where do these thoughts come from.    And they are not just fleeting thoughts…as I tried to identify  what I was thinking and feeling, they are like a tangled knot. 

Anxiety (low grade financial worries)

Accusatory thoughts at maybe I am too laid back and lazy.

Other thoughts/ emotions?????

I know 95% of this stuff is irrational…I know that 

The bigger issue for me  is  these irrational ”shoulda’s”  robs me of my inner peace and enjoyment of the moment. 

     Another common “Shoulda” that will  try to sneak up and discourage me has to do with how we raised our children.

        On a  logical level, I can look you in the eye , with a clear conscience and tell you, I did the very best I could.  No regrets.

      On an emotional level, I  find myself second guessing myself.

if only I would have been firmer…..

if only

if only…..

 

         I’m  stubborn enough to think it doesn’t have to be this way.

   I just hate it when one of these little suckers sneaks under the radar and starts to gnaw at my peace of mind.

    

Talk to me..thoughts/ comments/ suggestions?

How to grow Free Range Pork in Iowa

    

One of our free range pigs

 Imagine a pig raised on apples, mulberries, clover, shelled corn and pasture, That would make  for a tasty pig

        Pigs are foragers.  They love to  turn up the soil with their snouts   digging for roots,  and grubs.  It’s called  the ‘free range” method of pork production. 

      Nobody does it for lots of reasons-

     They take forever to get to market weight.

       It takes a lot more space per pig.

      They will tear up a field unless you put rings in their noses, which prevents them from digging, which some have suggested causes them to get depressed (and @ this point I would have to agree)

      Pigs are highly intelligent animals- right up there with chimps, dolphins, and elephants.

       I was working on a hog confinement set up this past June.  The farmer offered to give me  all of his runt pigs  for nothing.   He raises 5000 head of baby pigs  a year.   His buyers aren’t interested in the runts-  they just get destroyed.

         In my mind, a free pig is a free pig, plus we have an acre of pasture behind our barn just sitting there so  I said I would LOVE to take those runts off his hands.

      I sent an e-mail out to several  people asking if they’d be interested in me raising  a free range pig for them.   I told them right up front, they might only get to 120  pounds by the time  we needed to butcher. (once the pasture ran out for the year, that was it.

      I  had 20 people tell me “Yes! Count me in!!!!” 

         It’s four months later and time for an update.    We’re closing in our the time to butcher.    The  local newspaper is putting together  their  annual “pork”  edition and e-mailed me this week to see if I’d sit down with them and talk about  our free range pigs.  I had to laugh because  in my mind the jury is still out on the success of this experiment

         Here’s some of what I learned so far: 

      #1  I would start out with healthy, normal baby  pigs instead of “free” runts.  The runts  do not convert their food to body mass as quickly and you end up dumping more feed in them as a result.

      #2  I would give them more supplemental  feed each week.    I was trying to do this  without sticking a bunch of $ in them, but in the end, they just weren’t growing so I did start supplementing their  diet with shelled corn .  They have finally started putting on some size.

      #3  I would need to charge a lot more $ to make this financially worth my while. 

      # 4 Instead of trying to raise 7 pigs on an acre of  pasture I would only do 4.  It didn’t take long for these 7  pigs to dig up that  acre of pasture.

      #5  I would ask for more money up front from whomever was interested.  I ended up having to purchase a watering tank ($150)  2 sections of electric woven fence (another $ 200) and  $250 worth of corn. and it’s not over yet.

      If you stumble across this blog post, and you’re seriously interested in  some free range pork in 2010  leave me a comment. We’ll  probably grow  3   for sale.   A  150 pound pig (live weight) will run you about $300- $400 depending on  the cost of feed. 

Footnote- for those of you that are regulars..no I am not planning to eat Winston.

Straight talk to my future Son-in-law

     

     Three young women call me their dad.  One is  married  and two are living with someone.  Since they’re not married and  only God  knows if they’re the one, I’m writing this letter to the future young men who  are thinking about becoming part of our family.

          My  children are my  greatest treasure- next to my relationship with my wife- and the person they pick as their mate has major, major  implications for  their lives.      

         We have a prayer we call the “wedge prayer” in our home- It works like this-  If one of the kids (or even us as parents) developes a friendship that is  toxic,  consistently bringing them down, we ask God to “drive a wedge” between the two of them, cause them to come to their senses- we don’t nag, we don’t preach, we don’t manipulate.    I’ve seen Him answer this prayer twice.

   I like my coffee black, whiskey straight  and important conversations that don’t beat around the bush, so here we go…..

    At some point in your marriage, you’re going to run into a brick wall- probably several the first 15 to 20 years of your relationship.   So  get used to the idea that a great marriage takes work.  If you’re not  interested in a great marriage, I’m trusting my daughter finds  that out before she walks down the aisle . 

   So let’s talk about what to do when you run into a brick wall. 

Brick wall:  Unresolved problem  and conflict in your home…financial, parenting, sexual, hobbies, work related, depression, grief, addictions, emotional issues- the list is endless

     This is what my daughter saw modeled so she’s probably hoping you man enough to do the same.  If there’s an elephant in the room, pretending it’s not there doesn’t cut it. 

      One of your responsibilities if you’ve decided to be a husband is to be a servant leader- doesn’t mean you steam roll your way over my daughter- marriage is a joint venture-  Look up the word “husband” and see what it means.  So what’s a leader to do when he’s faced with an unresolved problem?- you ask  for help

        If you can’t “fix it” between the two of you, then call in an expert.  There is no shame in saying “I don’t know”-  no body is an expert in every area of life- especially when it comes to the complexities of interpersonal relationship.  When my computer starts giving me fit, after I try all the little tricks I know, I haul it into the shop-  when my hammer drill needs work, I haul it into the  tool repair man.  If the furnace won’t heat, we’re not out of fuel and  the breaker’s not  tripped, I call my  furnace guy…so why do some men refuse to pick up the phone when something in their home isn’t working?

  Two reasons- ignorance- they don’t know who to call

 pride- they’re ashamed they can’t fix it

or both.

My first two daughters

Daughter #3

 

 

Stay tuned- there’s more – ..DM

Applejam 2009

        Kids  running up and down  rows of  Red Delicious, Honeycrisp,  and Ginger Gold’s  playing hide and seek.    Branches laden  with red and yellow fruit.   In the middle of the  orchard  a small wooden stage for musicians, story tellers and who know what…. and  a long table filled with  pies, maidrites,the smell of  black coffee and apple cider in the September air.

      That  is what applejam looked like in my mind even before I drove the first nail , or picked up the phone in 2002  to find some musicians -Flash forward to September 12th 2009.  We just wrapped up our 11th Applejam.

     The Bible talks about us making plans but then the Lord directing our steps.  That is a great word picture for what has happened with Applejam.  If you’re reading this and don’t believe, I understand,  I really do.  I spent the first twentysome years of my life thinking the same thing.  But when God decides to reel you in, you’ll know it. 

       After each Applejam my wife and I would critique everything- what worked, what didn’t, what would make things run more smoothly?   In 2003 it rained, we still had 40 people show up, so on a lark we moved everything into the basement of our 100 yr old red barn- no lights, no electricity, listening to a 3 piece Mennonite group while it drizzled outside.  (We still had fun)    After that, we decided to set up in the barn….just in case.   I  wired the barn with enough circuits to support a 5 piece band.   (Remember U2 is my favorite band…you just never know)

      As a result of Applejam we’ve hosted musicians from literally all over the world.  We  have a small bed and breakfast that we  see as a watering hole for traveling musicians.  We’ve even been known to barter on occassion- talk to me about  singing  for your meal and a place to lay your head.  Did you know  there is a subculture of  musicians traveling the country?

     Here is a pictorial highlight of Applejam 2009:

Jesse resident artist

   Tom and  Pam.  Tom played a Neil Young cover that sounded just like the original.  Someone told me this was the first time Tom had performed in public for at least 10 years…what a treat.

Some of the crowd

Kathy, Beka and Angie surprising their Papa

Addy and friend dancing to Fran Snyder

Sam, Kailee ,and Patrick-  on short notice (30 minutes)  they put something together-  all I can say is Wow

Fran (on the right) drove over an hour by herself and her two little ones to perform- sang some original songs.  I asked her if she would come back and play at another one of our events- she was delightful.

This young couple (and their son)   worked tirelessly behind the scene- They spent an extended weekend with us.  I think we all made lots of memories

Here is “Lena” my dad’s first cousin doing a comedy routine

Fran Snyder- He  was our headliner this year, came all the way from Kansas.  Great sound and a lot of fun.

 

View of the barn after dark…with  music  and light flowing through  the cracks.

Real Masculinity (According to me)

     “The hands of a brick layer, the heart of a poet.”  

                           Saumel J Kirkwood/ Former Governor of Iowa

     I’m probably going to step on a few toes with this one, but you know what,  I’m not going to lose any sleep over it

     I’ve been given the  privilege this Fall of teaching  8 young men in a construction program.   I am 30 plus years removed from my High school days- a season in my life I would not want to repeat. 

    Since completing High School,  I’ve spent   30 years together with the same woman- (and we still like each other), We’ve raised 4 children now in their early to late 20’s- ( and  have  a healthy  relationship with each of them).     

       In addition to  teaching , I’m a general contractor.

       I am a people person, and have known and worked alongside literally dozens of men (and women) in the construction industry with every personality type you could imagine.- I n all these years, there is only 1 man who  hated my guts-  a  former bible college graduate twerp with a mouth.

       I love pouring cement, stick framing a roof, riding motorcycles, writing poetry, baking my grandma’s rye bread from scratch, shooting  a  semi automatic rifle,  working in our  apple orchard, stacking bales in the haymow, butchering chickens,  bringing my wife and I coffee in bed

     What am I trying to say? My feet are firmly planted in real life.

      When I was a young man ( like the guys in my class)- there were very few healthy role models- at least role models of what I would consider a masculine male-             Most of the “masculine” males  were either stoic males without emotion, or jocks whose sole purpose in life was to “get some”…great qualities to have in a future husband don’t you think?

      I  am here to tell you, a real man can be tough and know how to stand his ground, but he can also be tender, and know how to admit when he’s wrong.         Real men  are in touch with their feelings- regardless of what anybody else may be telling you. 

    One of my best friends  from New Jersey  would probably be  thought of as stoic by   the rest of the people in his life….and yet, I’ve gotten to know the man behind the mask- I know things about him his wife probably  doesn’t know-  he can be  funny and  fun loving as anyone , he cares, hurts, worries,  just like you and I- but I’m guessing you (and his wife ) will  never see this side of him  unless you established a level of trust with him.

     I love working with the biker/just got out of jail types.  I love to look them in the eye and mess with their minds.  Three years ago,I spent the day with Johnny- he was helping out a friend of mine remodel a building.  Johnny was on work release- muscular, in his mid 30’s- I came with my sawzall, and  chop saw with a diamond blade.  My job was to cut a hole through the side of the masonry building 2 stories in the air.  I  looked Johnny in the eye and said,   ‘”I’m afraid of heights”  (because I am)  

     He looked @ me and said with a little sarcasm, “Man, what kind of carpenter are you,  afraid of height?”

     About 1/3 of the way into the process, there was an accident- Johnny, accidently stabbed me with my sawzall- new blade, with pigeon dung on it- slid right into my forearm like a steak knife-  we made a trip to the emergency room..2 hours later, we were back- my arm all stitched and wrapped up.  I couldn’t leave because we had to finish the project- I had the tools and know how…I watched Johnny as he struggled with the chop saw- it was driving me nuts..finally, I said, “Let me have it”-  I grabbed the saw with both hands and went back to work- two hours later, we were done-  Johnny, looked @ me when I finished with the saw  and said, “Man, you are one bad @#s .”

     Music to my ears. 

     Thoughts, comments, questions?

 

They called it teasing

  

    “The air was dank, tainted with the odors of steam, sweat and skin.  Years of rust and sediment from the dripping shower heads and armies of bare, wet feet had marbled the floor with streaks and patches of reddish brown.

     The authorities, clad in uniforms and carrying clipboards and whistles, marched the boys in, at least forty of them, all roughly the same age but many different sizes, strengths, and levels of maturity.  The dates of their births, the locations of their homes, and the simple luck of the draw had brought them here, and much like cattle earmarked for shipment, they had no voice in the matter.  The paperwork was in.  This room would be a part of their lives for the next four years.

     He had never been in this place, or anywhere like this place before.  He had never imagined such a place could even exist.  In here, kindness meant weakness, human warmth was a complication, and encouragement was unmanly.  In here, harshness was the guiding virtue- harshness, cruelty, and the blunt, relentless confirmation of every doubt he’d ever carried about himself.

      Mr M. a fearsome authority figure with a permanent scowl and a voice that yelled- only yelled- ordered them to strip down.  His assistants, clones of his cruelty, repeated the order, striding up and down the narrow aisles between the lockers.

     The boy hesitated, looking furtively about.  HE’d never been naked in front of strangers before, but even worse, he’d never been naked in front of enemies.  It had taken only one hour in gym class for the others to select him, to label him, and to put him in his place.  He was now officially the smallest one, the scared one, the weakling, the one without friends.  That made him fair game when it came time for showers.

      He he would be naked in front of them.  Naked.  His stomach wrung; his hands trembled.  Please God, get me out of here.  Please don’t let them do this to me.

     But every authority figure in his life had said he had to be here.  He had to go to school, do his chores, finish his homework, keep his shoes tied, go to bed and get up at certain hours, eat his vegetables, and be here.  End of discussion.

    He removed his clothes.

    Mr M continued his yelling.  “Come on, move it, move it, move it!”

     The herd- pink, black, brown, and bronze- moved in one direction and all he could do was move with it- a frail, naked body among the forty, longing for a towel, anything to cover himself.  Every other body was bigger, and stronger, and every other body had hair where the boy had none.  He knew they would notice.

     The showers were a long, high-ceiling echo chamber, murky with steam, rattling with lewd, raucous joking and laughter.  He didn’t want to hear it.

      After a big kid finished his shower, the boy carefully took his place under the showerhead, afraid  of slipping and even more afraid of grazing against anyone.  He let the water spray over him.  He hurriedly lathered his body with some soap.

     To his left, the talk started about him.  Then some laughing.  The talk spread, the call went out, “Hey, get a load of this!”  And audience gathered, a semicircle of naked dripping bodies.  The talk about him shifted to jeering at him.  He tried to act as if he didn’t hear them, but he could feel his face flushing.  Get through, get through, get out of here!

     He rinsed as well as he could , never turning away from the wall, then headed for the towel-off area, not meeting their eyes, trying to ignore their comments about his face, his body, his groin.  But the arrows were landing with painful accuracy: “Ugly”  “Wimp” “Gross” “Little girl.”

     He grabbed a towel off the cart and draped it around himself before he even started drying with it.  Even that action brought lewd comments and another lesson:  Once it begins, no action, no words, no change in behavior will turn it back.  Once you’re the target, anything you do will bring another arrow….. ” to be continued 

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    This is an excerpt from Frank Peretti’s book No More Victims    His words felt hauntingly familiar to me  (DM).   How about you?   Were you the brunt of any teasing growing up?  What did it feel like?   Has it left any scars?  Before someone is tempted to put a positive spin on this one, let’s take a  little time to tell our stories.

       I know, when life gives us lemons we’re supposed to make lemonade and all that other good stuff..but I’ve also watched   some  of my kids  experience   hellacious harassment in school- and  I suspect  they may still carrying the wounds today.

     Thoughts, questions, comments?