It’s been decades since I revisited my high school yearbook. A couple things stand out — or rather, fail to. First, though I’m in many photos, you’d have a hard time spotting me. I lurk — in the back, at the edge, peeking from behind. It’s like Where’s Waldo with me as the elusive star. The other thing of note is Bernie, the class bully. In all his photos he looks downright angelic. Not surprising. Around grownups, he had a saintly demeanor. When the grownups were away, he grew horns and made for the smallest and meekest to mete out endless torment.
He would come up behind you and clap his hands over your ears and rub fast and hard, crinkling the ears back and forth, trashing the cartilage to painful effect. He liked punching you in the stomach, pushing you around. He liked intimidating you in every possible way, see your uneasiness and fear. His favorite torture was to bend your fingers backwards, relishing the moment when your knees would buckle and you’d fall to your knees, crying out in pain. He just couldn’t get enough of this one.
One time a teacher caught him pressing his thumbs into a kid’s temples. The teacher stopped him, explaining that this was very dangerous. That was the only time I ever saw a teacher challenge Bernie’s bullying tactics.
A couple of times I challenged him. One time in gym class he had one of my friends down on the floor, and I stepped in and pulled Bernie off. It startled him — he wasn’t accustomed to it — and he wandered off to find someone else. Then there was the day I stood up to him in lunch line. When he approached, ready to grab my fingers, I doubled up my fists and made it clear we’d be fighting it out. Not that I would have fared well. But it would have caused a stir, drawn a teacher, and that’s not what Bernie wanted. So he backed off and went in search of someone else.
In the back of the yearbook there’s an In Memoriam note for Leland Stump — 1951-1966. Leland was my best friend. In his freshman year he was diagnosed with a brain tumor, and I watched him slowly die over the course of a year. I remember praying back in those days when I believed in prayer. I prayed that Leland would be spared, and that Bernie be taken instead. Yes, I prayed for Bernie’s death. That’s how much I hated him, how miserable he made life for me. I dreaded every break, every recess, every moment when grownups wouldn’t be around. Because that was “Bernie time.”
I suppose when it comes to something like Columbine, I hold politically incorrect views. Read into that what you will. But schools should be a place for learning — not discrimination, ridicule, intimidation or fear. When I hear people argue that kids need to learn to stand up for themselves, I wonder if maybe grownups ought to learn to stand up for kids, rather than look the other way.
Yes, I held a grudge against Bernie. I held it a long while. In my 30s I became involved in the martial arts. I trained hard in Shaolin kung fu for nearly 20 years. Along the way I competed in China, even trained for a week under the monks at Shaolin Temple. A couple of times I went back to Indiana for class reunions. Each time I would joke beforehand with friends that it was payback time. Not that I was serious. But the fact that I even thought it shows that I still held a grudge.
How long should one hold a grudge? I mean, grudges seem an unavoidable part of life. You form grudges against people, companies, beliefs, and often for good reason. But it can’t be healthy or right to hold them forever. What’s the correct length to hold a grudge? After a lifetime of experience, I’ve narrowed it down to somewhere between five seconds and fifty years.
Last week I was again back in Indiana. Bernie land. I was visiting my mom and other relatives. While there, I received an email from our high school class. Bernie was going in for some minor surgery. A follow-up email came the next day. Bernie had been sent home with inoperable and very aggressive cancer. While chemo and radiation might give him six months, he’s opted to skip it — because it would make him very ill the whole time. A few classmates arranged a dinner that Bernie would try to attend. I went to it, but Bernie didn’t show. Finally I just sent him an email of encouragement and positive thoughts. No god stuff, because I’m not religious, but it was compassionate and sincere. Because I think it’s time to drop this grudge.
Good luck, Bernie.
