My experiences with violence are fairly limited, and therefore, very distinct in my mind. I can recall most if not all of my personal experience that involved violence. On only one occassion I was the recipient of a violent attack. It was violent in nature, but it was not very “violent.” It happened when I was about 12. It was a late summer night and I was taking a walk around the neighborhood. It was dark but the sidewalks and streets were pretty well lit. Out of nowhere a group of adolescent boys on bikes rode by and one of them threw a full unopened can of pop at my head. The can dented on my head and then exploded once it hit the ground. The boys sped off laughing and cheering. It hurt, but I think it was more embarassing than anything else. I went home and cried. People experience more violence than that on an every day basis, and so because of that I know not to fall into a Poor Me syndrome over this one incident. What happened to me sucked, but it wasn’t the worst that could happen. But it’s all I have, so I remember it vividly.
As an adult I’ve seen many street fights. They all involved men or boys and they all happened at unexected times. Like when my mom and I saw a gang of boys brawling while we were driving through our old neighborhood reminiscing about how much we enjoyed the peaceful community. Or more recently when my family went to a Cubs game (my first) for my mom’s birthday. We had just had an amazing time bonding and enjoying the beautiful weather right behind the dugout. We were walking back to our car after the game ended and found two twenty something’s rolling on the gravel in front of our car – drunk on beer and high on weed. I can’t help but feel sick when I think about the hatred and anger that flows so deeply in their hearts. My instinct is always the same: I want to rush out there and stop the fight. I want to yell at them and scare them so much that they run away and never fight again, but my brain knows better than to run into the middle of fighting men high on testosterone. I end up standing there like a deer in headlights. All I can do is sit back and watch and hope it will all be over soon.
Part 5: The Day That Changed It All
I never heard the story of the pop can. That made me furious! I once had a lunch box smack me in the nose. I was on the bus, it was like 2nd grade, and a bunch of girls were teasing me for living in the “poor” neighborhood ( I went to a rich kid elementary school) and when I called the one girl a name she socked me in the face with her lunch box. Will the next generation (our kids) be like that?
I hope not. I know our kids won’t be like that, but I can’t speak for the rest of the world. I suppose bully’s will always be around. Not to get political, but I believe that Obama is somebody who can change the way kids act. He has such a loving presence and I think having him be a leader will give kids permission to follow in his footsteps. I also think having him as POTUS will help with racism throughout the nation. If Obama is in office then we have reason to HOPE.
I watched this video recently of Obama “backstage” and he was teasing with his daughters and watching his wife speak at the Democratic convention. It was so cute, he was watching his wife, playing with his wedding ring and smiling at her on the screen. So, I totally get what you mean about a loving presence.
Something similar also happened to me. One day I went to great America with Stephanie, Billy and Ricky. We were walking back into the park from eating lunch at Burger King, the rest of them crossed but there was a car coming so I couldnt cross yet. The car drove by and threw his cup of soda (with no top) at me and it spilled all over my clothes, ice and all. I was pretty pissed