A Penny in Time Chapter 9: Courage (part 2)

Fifteen and twenty-one equaled thirty-six, the same age my mother is now.  My Mom would be fifty-seven in twenty-one years, old but not ancient.  But I guess I wouldn't know what she even looked like in twenty-one years if I wasn't going to be there.  And I wouldn't know anything about anybody; my grandparents, my Dad, Slinky, Frank, Dean, Fran, Annie and all my other friends.  Or how ninth grade would be, let alone the next twenty-one years of my life on Earth.

"Would Sarree be a good mother?"  Better than me? I wondered.

"She wants only what is best for Yugo, even if it means giving him up to you.  She would do that out of love for him, and I think that defines a good parent."

I thought about my Mom...and my Dad.  I knew my Mom cared about my best interests, but to tell the truth, I had some doubts about my Dad.

"Would you be a good father?"  The nagging uncertainty that had been hovering over my thoughts was out of my mouth, but I couldn't forget that Mr. D had rejected Yugo when he first met us at the gate.

Mr. D's face crinkled and he bowed his head.  I don't think I hurt his feelings, exactly.  More like he admitted there was some truth to what I'd said.

"I would try my very best," he replied, like he was pledging his word of honor.  "I know that I would.  For his sake, for Sarree, for my own.  And, for you.  I have come to understand a great deal about love, because of you."

I felt my face flush.  I wondered if Mr. D could see the color red, or if he only sensed emotions.  "Why did the Perfect Council go all weird about the pennies?"  I dug them out of my pocket and put them in front of us on the table.

Mr. D stiffened, a rather odd reaction to a measly five cents.  "That is a great deal of wealth to us here, Dusty."

"Five pennies?" I quipped, arranging them in row.  "What's so valuable about these?"

"They contain the most precious resources on our planet.  Resources that are regenerated every five hundred years."  Mr. D's hand fluttered, then tapped lightly on the tabletop.  "Just the minute amount of copper and zinc found in one penny allows us to build and maintain our city for a hundred years."

"You mean, I'm rich here?"  What a neat thought!

"You are indeed," he answered with a chuckle, then, sounding just like an adult, added, "but you must realize you offended everyone by trying to buy Yugo."

Like I was some kind of slave trader!  "I did not!" I shouted, totally mad.  "They acted like he was worthless and all I wanted to prove was that I'd give everything I had to save him!"

Mr. D drew back.  "Yes, of course, I know that.  But there will be those who say you did not save Yugo out of love, but for gain.  There will always be someone who will find fault with the why and wherefore of what you do."

"And I thought this was a perfect society," I groused.  "No more perfect than my own."  I wasn't real sure that I wanted to be left out of my rightful place back home, anymore.

"Dusty," Mr. D whispered, though Yugo slept on unaware of us and no one else could have overheard us, "look out the window!"

The colorless sky was no more!  Streaks of reds, purples and pinks fanned across the horizon, like a brilliant Seattle sunset, though there hadn't been any sun to set.  Lots of dust maybe, but no sun that I ever saw.

"What happened?" I whispered back.

"Once in a million years!"  Mr. D's eyes sparkled and his face lit up with a smile.  "This is a most rare occurrence!"  He reached over and grabbed my hands pulling me onto my feet, adding with a little laugh, "You might say you've brought color to our world!"

He motioned to me and I swept Yugo into my arms as I followed Mr. D outside.  A great crowd had gathered all along the sidewalks and in the street.  A hushed murmur followed us as we walked down the middle of the street through a path left open for us.  I felt x-rayed.  Mr. D came to a halt in front of the mass and stood transfixed before the silent fireworks in the sky.  Yugo woke and I shared his sense of joy and wonderment.

Then he began to chitter, squirming in my arms, and I knew Sarree was somewhere near us.  I watched him eagerly searching for his mother, trying to communicate with me his sense of rightness, hope and belonging.  I clutched him tighter, willing him to stop, but I knew I had already lost that special link with him.

I had to look away, up at the sky.  Rainbows danced in my teary eyes.  Once in a million years wouldn't be enough for me, that much I knew as a deep, intense longing filled me to go back home.  I tried to tell myself that I was picking up Yugo's emotions, but I knew that this was my own, my very own, feeling.  I guess I knew all along that it wouldn't work out with me staying here, that sooner or later I would want to go home again.

I understood it all; and I didn't understand any of it.  The pain that had ripped my heart in two, left me feeling oddly at peace.  I scanned the crowd, looking for that face I would recognize as Sarree.  It wasn't hard to find her, for she was staring at me.  Me and Yugo.  Yugo blipped like radar when he spied her.  I had a choice:  break eye contact and turn away, or smile.

She strained to see over someone's shoulder and I lost sight of her momentarily.  When I saw her head pop into view, I smiled and moved so that there was a space for her.

The sky dripped colors, like a wet painting.  The gallery of Monosapiens oohed and ahhed, as Sarree squeezed between me and Mr. D.  Yugo chirped and mewed, rocking in my arms, delighted that he had us all together.  He reached out for Sarree and she hesitated but a fraction of a second before she took him from me.

He has it all, I thought, watching them, happy for all of them, yet tasting the bitterness of my loss.  Mr. D smiled lovingly at Sarree and Yugo, his massive, white-furred hand on Sarree's elbow.  She nuzzled Yugo, stroking his cheek.  It was a perfect picture of a perfect family.

I was not the only one viewing the perfect scene, for others had noticed.  It seemed all eyes were on us.  What did they expect?  I'd go crazy and run up and down the street, shouting and swearing?  I stood quietly beside the family reunion until the onlookers lost interest and went back to sky gazing, then made my way back to Mr. D's house.

It wasn't easy to find.  I had to walk up and down the little paths to the front doors and check out the nameplates.  It would have been smart of me to have counted the houses, but it seems I get these good ideas too late.  I had only walked in the door when Mr. D came in behind me.

"Dusty," he acknowledged my pain in saying my name.

"It's okay, Mr. D, really.  I thought about it, and I know that it's better for Yugo to be with his mother.  There's whole a lot I don't know about raising a Monosapien."  I laughed, but it was half-heartedly.

He tipped his head.  His smile was so nice, and his eyes were so kind!
"I'd like to go home."

"Yes."  He indicated the five pennies on the table.  "Take them."
I shook my head.  "No, I'd like Yugo to have them."

Mr. D clasped his hands, his face a map of concerns.  "That would not be wise.  So much wealth for one individual would be a terrible imbalance in our society."

"Then for the three of you!" I shot back.

Eyes downcast, he sighed.  "No."

With my back to Mr. D, I wiped the table clean of the pennies.  I was about to pocket them all when I flashed on  finding Yugo in the desert.  There were probably others out there left to die.

I plunked a penny down on the table, turned and faced Mr. D.  "Then this should be plenty to get enough food and shelter for all the misbegottens."

I had stunned Mr. D, I could see it in his face.  "You will make sure of it, won't you Mr. D?"

"Of course I will," his voice rose and filled the room with warmth.  "Of course I will," he repeated, coming to me and hugging me tightly.  "Oh, Dusty, what a legacy you've left us!"

Well, at least it wasn't a bad pun like my Dad would have made.  But still, I finally appreciated how making 'sense' could mean a lot of different things, all at the same time.

I was smothering and pulled away from Mr. D's chest.  "Mr. D, how am I going to get home?  I don't have a magic ring, ruby slippers or a mirror, so what's left---a space ship?"

He planted his hands firmly on my shoulders.  I sucked on the inside of my bottom lip, to keep from smiling and crying, for I felt like doing both.  We locked eyes, and I knew I would miss him and Yugo a lot, for a long, long time.

"I won't forget you, ever," I said, without even a crack in my voice.

He dropped his hands from my shoulders, brushing one hand across my forehead and down my cheek.  "Nor I you."

Out of the corner of my eye I could see through the window that the colors had begun to wash out of the sky.  Everyone began to drift away.  Sarree and Yugo would be home soon.

"Just open your eyes, Dusty," intoned Mr. D.  "Open your eyes."

Weren't my eyes already open?  Confused, I squinted hard, trying to focus on Mr. D.  I blinked and blinked again.

A Penny in Time Chapter 9: Courage (part 1)

"The woman, Dusty," matching fingers, Mr. D pressed his hands together, his voice husky, "is my partner, Sarree.  And yes, she is Yugo's mother."

"Then Yugo is yours!" I blurted, rising part way out of my chair.

"No," he replied simply.

No? my thoughts spun, and I sat back down.  If he wasn't the father, then someone else had to be.

"Here, where couples are together until death separates them, love is not the first consideration:  compatibility is.  But sometimes that is not enough.  And one person cannot love enough to make up for the void."

"You loved her?"  It came out in a squeaky whisper.

"I love her."

I couldn't help but glance quickly over my shoulder at Yugo, sleeping without a care in this world.  "How can you say that after she deserted you and left her baby out in the desert to die?"

"She had no choice.  Yugo was taken from her, unwillingly.  Yugo's father died trying to bring him back.  That happened, in fact, shortly before you arrived and rescued him."

Although Mr. D looked the picture of calmness, I wondered if he weren't torn up inside.  I was, just thinking about all this.  "Why did you take us in?"

He thought about that for awhile.  "Because," he faltered, "because I had wanted so very much a second chance to right the imbalance in our lives."

I shook my head.  "I don't understand."

"I love Sarree, but I didn't know that until after she left.  Only then did I understand she could love another."

I could tell he struggled with his feelings by his shaky smile, and I was slightly embarrassed.  Yugo stirred and cried out.  I popped up out the chair, relieved to go over and cradle him in my arms.  "I think he's hungry, again."  I handed Mr. D the empty bottle.

With Mr. D busy in the kitchen, I thought about what he had said.  Holding Yugo, Sarree's image floated in my thoughts; I got it loud and clear what he wanted most was to be with his mother.  All my feelings were a hazy swirl of reds and greens, like anticipating Christmas morning, not because of the presents, but because I would be there with my family.  But I couldn't see any faces I knew, only those of Sarree, Yugo and Mr. D.  Maybe I was the "eyes" of the dreamer; there but not a part of it.
Yugo longed for his mother.  Sarree.  A stab of jealousy pierced me, but at the same time, I too, wanted to be home with my mother.  We both wanted the same thing.
Mr. D handed the bottle to me without saying anything, like he knew I needed to think through my feelings.  I fed Yugo, very careful not hurry him as he lapped at the chalky stuff, burping him every few minutes.  He was so happy!  I had to smile and even began to hum 'Old McDonald had a farm' to him.

He fell back asleep, and I swear he'd grown the short time I had him in my arms.  He was heavier and looked longer as he curled up again on the couch.  I didn't want to get up and leave him, happy to sit beside him drifting along our currents of contentment.

Mr. D waited in the dining room, seated once more at the table.  We had more to discuss, but the questions no longer seemed that pressing to me.  Or maybe, I had to admit to myself, I didn't want to know the answers.

But it's like an itch, the moment you think you're not going to think about it, you have to.  I returned to the table and dropped into the chair facing Mr. D.  "You said you love Sarree, but does she love you?"

His bushy eyebrows knitted together and I felt the weight of each word he said.  "Sarree told me she respects and appreciates me for what I am."

"And you buy that?" I asked.

"It is a kind of love, Dusty.  She's sincere and honest and truthful, and that is a sharing of oneself that is also a form of love."

"And she loves Yugo because she's his mother."  And, I added to myself, he loves her, his mother.

"Yes."

"Where does that leave me?"  All those feelings of jealousy and rejection tumbled out.  I had to look away for a minute to catch my breath and swallow my tears.  Outside, the sky was dingy gray, the color of dirty laundry.  I missed the blue Seattle morning sky and the dark, starry nights.  "I love Yugo, too.  And I know," I insisted fiercely, "that Yugo loves me, too."

"Yes, he does."  responded Mr. D evenly, looking steadily at me.

I felt a gentle prodding of my thoughts.  "I'll take him home with me.  My Mom would understand, I know she would.  And I would give Yugo a good home, too!"  I choked on my tears.  "I swear it!"

"Childling," Mr. D smoothed away the tears, "there is no question about your love or ability to care for Yugo.  But Yugo would not survive in your world."

I shook my head.  "I survive here in his, he would in mine."

Mr. D cupped my chin in his hand.  "Dusty, look at me.  Would Yugo not be a curiosity, an animal to be caged for display in a circus or a zoo?"

"I wouldn't ever let that happen!  No! no! I wouldn't!"  I was really blubbering now.
He tipped my chin up so that I looked into his eyes.  "You wouldn't want it to happen, Dusty, but how could it not?  You couldn't very well hide him in your room, not for very long, even if you could find him food."

I swiped at the tears.  "Then can I stay with you?"

"Yes, if you wish."  He sat back again.

I hadn't expected him to say yes.  My tears ended with one hiccup.  "Isn't Sarree coming back here?"

"That depends on you."  Mr. D nodded, his face softened by his smile.

"What do you mean, Mr. D?"  I shook my head, wishing I could shake out my confusion into some kind of order.

"It took a great deal of courage for you to cross the desert and go before the Perfect Council and fight for Yugo's right to live.  You have shown the depth of your love and commitment.  I have no right to ask you to give up your claim to Yugo, but I must ask you to think very carefully what this means."

There's always a catch, isn't there?

He looked at me without blinking.  "You'll be responsible for Yugo until he comes of age.  You will be the focus of his life, and always answerable to our society, even in the midst of changes, now."  He leaned back, folding his arms across his snowy chest.

To be so powerful!  Making decisions that mean something. Changes, which affect others' lives.

Though he spoke ever so softly, his words framed a clear picture of what life here would be like.  "You have become a symbol of reformation, the catalyst of the changes that began with your arrival and your challenge to the Perfect Council.  It is inevitable that your every action, every word, your daily life, will be watched, analyzed and criticized."

"Sort of like being under a microscope, huh?"  I always felt a little sorry for those poor, unsuspecting specimens sandwiched between two slides, eyeballed to death.  But then again, to be a part of Yugo's life, forever!

"Yes, Dusty, forever."  He said it so quietly that I didn't fully catch the importance of 'forever'.

"Forever is a long time, Dusty."

New Film About Student Journalists Who Take on the Childhood Obesity Debate

"In an effort to address the obesity epidemic, notification letters are being sent to students whose body mass do not fall within a narrow range deemed "acceptable" by the government; essentially telling children, even as young as kindergarteners, that they are fat.

THE STUDENT BODY is a true underdog story of two brave girls who take a stand against bullying, government intrusion and hypocrisy while exploring the complex and controversial truths behind the childhood obesity debate."

American Family Association Journal says it is “Extraordinary. The film is both inspiring and challenging.”

Common Sense Media calls it “enlightening” and a “tribute to student journalism and the power of investigative reporting.”

Official Selection at Traverse City Film Festival, Woodstock International Film Festival, Providence Children’s Film Festival, and Sedona Film Festival.

Available on demand and now on Blu-Ray and DVD.

Watch the trailer online>>
Visit the official website for more information>>

That's Just Bad

I would like to take an opportunity at the beginning of the New Year 2017 to give shout outs to the media and the articles about our children, the brave and intrepid children of these articles, who are our future and will make a difference in our lives, our communities, and the world. Their voices, their actions, their dreams are so important right now to have exposure, a forum, an ear of everyone who can listen, have an open mind, and a willing heart for some real changes.

Thank you Jerry Large, columnist for the Seattle Times, for your article on “Bully Busters Take on Rude Pols” (December 19, 2016). You highlighted the bully issues that girls face everyday. Emma Coopersmith, Lilah Aman-Lucas, and Lola Hurst saw the big picture of the political campaigning and nailed what is wrong. They have started their anti-bullying campaign because of “that awful stuff that was said during the election about women and their bodies and their capabilities.”  These eleven year old girls have a voice, have pens and know how to use them.

“Three sixth-grade girls heard mean comments during the recent presidential campaign that made them think politicians could use lessons in good behavior, so they’re doing some teaching. They created a campaign called D.C. Bully Busters, which encourages kids to send letters to political leaders in Washington, D.C., schooling them on how to deal with bullying. The girls also are reminding the rest of us that we can meet negative stuff with positive action.” - Jerry Lange

Another loud, proud shout out to the January 2017 National Geographic, Special Issue, GENDER Revolution, that is dedicated to global issues relating to gender, focusing on the young people in different parts of our world, and how societies deal with sexual orientation, especially redefining the very term “gender”. As if this is not confusing enough for most of us, there are now twenty-one definitions in one article on redefining gender "A Portrait of Gender Today": Agender, Androgynous, Cisgender, Gender binary, Gender conforming, Gender dysphoria, Gender expression, Genderfluid, Gender Identity, Gender marker, Gender nonconforming, Genderqueer, Intersex, LGBTQ, Nonbinary, Pronouns, Puberty suppression, Queer, Sexual Orientation, Transgender and Transsexual

The entire special issue is a beautifully done and vital edition which gives credence to those who are marginalized in all parts of the world. What we are finally acknowledging is the need to embrace all our differences. The power struggles will never end, for there will always be bullies and demagogues that make it a challenge to exist true to oneself and not as part of a herd, or ideology that suits only a narrow spectrum. These nine-year-old children across the globe comment on how their lives are, will be, and should be; it is not often pretty, but strikingly honest and sometimes, hopeful.  Much has changed, but not enough. The last paragraph on page 33 sums it up succinctly: “The aspiration mentioned most often, across the lines of geography and gender, was summed up by Avery Jackson. If the world were hers to change, she said, there would be ‘no bullying. Because that’s just bad.’”

Nine year olds and eleven year olds leading the way out of the darkness. We as a nation, and as individuals, have had a long, arduous journey through the political wasteland of an election year. Your party affiliation does not matter, finger pointing and complaining about the process is futile; what we must do is put together the strewn pieces of the puzzle to make a whole picture of our government, of our nationality and lives, once again. That is what we do as Americans in a representative government--we roll up our sleeves and get to work. We put on our walking shoes and march, we put pen to paper and publish opinions, we take an active part and use our voice for change, our time, money and skills in our participation in the governing process.

It is a right of a democratic society to vocalize and mobilize in our communities, in meetings, through the media and demonstrations. Let us never forget our rights or cede our rights to voice our opinions and demand to be heard. Let us not succumb to the bullies, either in our politics or schools, work places, homes or relationships. Let all of us strive to be a change for equality and gender recognition, making it safe for children and adults to live their lives without fear of physical, emotional or mental cruelty. We can make positive changes, and we must be bigger than our petty selves and validate our humanity. We must do so for the children. Emma Coopersmith, Lilah Aman-Lucas, and Lola Hurst, the Bully Busters, and Avery Jackson, a representative voice of children globally, got it right.  And that’s just good.

Running the Gauntlet

There’s the bell for first class. Walk slowly. Time it just right and maybe you ‘ll be the last one to sit down at your desk. Pretend you don’t hear them.

“Faggot.”
“Dyke.”
“That’s so gay.”
“No homo.”
“Tranny.”
“She-male.”

At least once during the day, LGBTQIA+ students, a reported estimated 1.3 million high school students identify as lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, queer, intersex, asexual, will hear an epithet casually and purposefully thrown at them, intending to hurt, belittle, ridicule.  An excellent article in The Seattle Times, Aug 12, 2016,”Heartbreaking” is a survey on abuse of gay students” by Jan Hoffman with additional Federal data, reports:

The first nationwide study to ask high school students about their sexuality found that gay, lesbian and bisexual teenagers were at far greater risk for depression, bullying and many types of violence than their straight peers.

“I found the numbers heartbreaking,” said Dr. Jonathan Mermin, a senior official at the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, which includes a division that administered the survey.

These adolescents were three times more likely than straight students to have been raped. They skipped school far more often because they did not feel safe; at least a third had been bullied on school property. And they were twice as likely as heterosexual students to have been threatened or injured with a weapon on school property.

More than 40 percent of these students reported that they had seriously considered suicide, and 29 percent had made attempts to do so in the year before they took the survey. A conservative estimate is 1,500 LGBTQIA+ commit suicide every year. The percentage of those who used illegal drugs was many times greater than their heterosexual peers. While 1.3 percent of straight students said they had used heroin, for example, 6 percent of the gay, lesbian and bisexual students reported having done so.

Look at these statistics!  They are heartbreaking and horrifying. Understand that 1.3 million people who report to be LGBTQIA+  is roughly the population of Los Angles, California.  Our children are daily engaged in warfare at school without any armor or protection—and for many who come “out” to parents, are kicked out of their home to fend on the street for themselves. Dr. Mermin, director of the National Center for HIV/AIDS, Viral Hepatitis, STD, and TB Prevention at the C.D.C., said it better than I:  “Nations are judged by the health and well-being of their children. Many would find these levels of physical and sexual violence unacceptable and something we should act on quickly.”

What we can do as peers, parents, teacher, mentors, and our community is give support through educating our youth in the home and classrooms about basic issues of how to respect one another as human beings and not as ‘others’.  With the ubiquitous internet and social media, it is imperative to teach our youth hard core values; to be very clear what is bullying and not acceptable behavior towards anyone for any reason.  If not in the home, then at school. There are excellent programs, like Green Dot etc., used by the Air Force, that effectively teach strategy for violence prevention, and what to do as a bystander in bullying and violent situations.

As Dr. Mermin stated emphatically “connectedness -- or social bonds -- to peers, teachers, schools, or community organizations is key to protecting the health of these adolescents. Students will succeed if they know they matter, and feel safe and supported socially, emotionally and physically. Solutions may not be simple, but we can take action to build support for lesbian, gay and bisexual youth at multiple levels.”

I have written several articles emphasizing the need, and the rights of our children to be safe from bullies—-and I especially feel we have an imperative to protect the most vulnerable of our children—-those who are harassed for being different, either racially or because of one’s sexual orientation.  We need to have a continuous dialogue with our children, our family members and community, to talk honestly about bully issues.

To gain insight into the reality of a child being LGBTQIA+ in their daily arena, please take some time to explore websites like:

• Human Rights Campaign: Advocating for LGBTQ Equality
• US Centers for Disease Control and Prevention
• MedlinePlus
• Live the Green Dot
• speakforthem.org

Read an excellent article by Kevin L. Nadal, PhD "Stop Saying “That’s So Gay!”: 6 Types of Microaggressions That Harm LGBTQ People" for an enlightening perspective.

Ask yourself what would this world be like without the diversity, talents and skills that the LGBTQIA+ have given us since the beginning of mankind?  The list I could make of the contributions in arts, sciences, politics and humanity of the LGBTQIA+ would be  awesome in its breadth and sheer numbers of people who have influenced and enriched our lives in spite of the obstacles, the prejudices and hostility they have endured.

It is imperative that we, every one of us, ensure that our children, all our children, thrive in a environment that is safe and respectful, especially for the most vulnerable of children, the ‘others’, who are targeted for being different, for being lesbian, gay, bisexual, transsexual, intersexual or questioning. Too many of these children are at risk everyday of their lives. Tomorrow will be too late for many of them. Today, not yesterday, not tomorrow, but today, is the time to stop the cycle of abuse.

L - Lesbian. Lesbian is a term used to refer to homosexual females.

G - Gay. Gay is a term used to refer to homosexuality, a homosexual person, or a homosexual male.

B - Bisexual. Bisexual is when a person is attracted to two sexes/genders.

T - Trans. Trans is an umbrella term for transgender and transsexual people.

Q - Queer/Questioning. Queer is an umbrella term for all of those who are not heterosexual and/or cisgender. Questioning is when a person isn't 100% sure of their sexual orientation and/or gender, and are trying to find their true identity.

I - Intersex. Intersex is when a person has an indeterminate mix of primary and secondary sex characteristics.

A - Asexuality. Asexuality is when a person experiences no (or little, if referring to demisexuality or grey-asexuality) sexual attraction to people.

+ - The "+" symbol simply stands for all of the other sexualities, sexes, and genders that aren't included in these few letters.

website:  lgbtqiainfo.weebly.com

Inside the Secret World of Teens

If you missed the CNN Special Report Special Report, "#Being13: Inside the Secret World of Teens," from October, 2015, I highly advise you to watch it soon. And, be sure to read these articles with additional information.

Being 13: Perils of lurking on social media“Most adolescents with access to smart phones are living their social lives online as much as they do face-to-face. Adults worry that teens are hooked on social media, but most have no idea what teens are actually doing online.

In this study, we examined the content of what teens actually say and do on social media, not simply what they say they do — and what it means to them. Not only are 13-year-olds using social media to post, tweet, share, friend, block, and unfriend, adolescents are spending vast amounts of time just "lurking," reading the never-ending stream of their peers' activities without posting anything themselves.

More than one third of them said they check social media without posting 25 times or more per day on weekends, and our heaviest users said they use social media over 100 times daily, including during classes at school.”
Read the entire article>>

Are you raising an Internet bully? Here’s how to end that behavior.
By Monica Leftwich, The Washington Post
“Faris dispells the notion that most kids directly model behaviors online that they witness at home, dismissing the idea that many kids cyberbully because their parents engage in similar actions. However, he does suspect that parents’ priorities could affect how their kids behave online.

Faris uses the example of “status games.” In short, some parents who get overly involved with their kids’ popularity or social status, or who themselves try to “keep up with the Joneses,” could be creating a sense of social competition in their children. If the parents put a high value on social climbing, Faris says, their children may do the same. This could create an unhealthy sense of rivalry in teens who prioritize popularity over true friendship.

That can spawn online aggression. For example, kids who value popularity will start vicious rumors online about other kids in order to tear them down while increasing their own “likes” and followers on social-media platforms.”
Read the entire article>>

Peer Mediation Can Help

"If you can avoid the physical violence and bring people together, you have accomplished what, from the beginning of time, mankind has considered a noble end.” - Richard Blumenthal


“Right in front of my eyes, those 20 students transformed into leaders and into activists.”
by Danielle Ross, MyCorneroftheWorld

“I’ll never forget that Thursday morning last year when my students and I sat together in class and cried.

What could possibly bring a class full of high school students and their teacher to tears? Bullying. We were sharing our personal experiences of being bullied and reliving those feelings that we push down but that don’t ever really go away. It had been 25 years since my “friends” had called me asking about homework and giggling in the background from a party I wasn’t invited to. Twenty-five years later and the pain came rushing back when I shared the experience with my peer counseling students. And I wasn’t the only one; student after student shared similar experiences that happened to them, mostly during elementary school.”

Read the entire article>>


Making Peer Mediation a Part of Campus Life
EducationWorld.com

“Teen skirmishes over rumors, perceived put-downs, and he-said-she-said arguments might seem inconsequential to adults, but to kids they can be major distractions. Mediation by peers can clear up misunderstandings quickly and improve school climate. Included: Ed World visits a peer mediation conference.

In schools, student conflicts can simmer for days. Starting with a glance, a whisper, or an innuendo, and seasoned with rumors, such conflicts can boil over into clique showdowns, shouting matches, threats, or worse.”

Read the entire article>>

A Penny in Time Chapter 6: R-E-S-P-E-C-T (Part 1)

"Childling, what are you doing here?"

Well, wasn't that the question of the year!  Before I could answer, the creature, I'd guess at least eight feet tall, shook his pearly mane and scolded, "It's much too late for you to be out."

He seemed to know me and I had a feeling I knew this shaggy, but well-groomed creature that towered over me, extending a paw-like hand towards me.  His fur was satiny-white and he had liquid brown eyes beneath puckered eyebrows in a rather stern, human-like face.  It was not an unkind face, just not too friendly.  Yugo, snuggled in my arms, wasn't the least bit afraid of him, either, not that I could sense.  But Yugo also didn't give out any information on this guy, which left me wondering if I should shake his hand or what.

I'd trust my instincts.  I clasped his hand and replied, "Please call me Dusty."

"Humph," he squeezed my hand and let go, "'Dusty' is not a proper name, Elizabeth Conner."

Now I knew why he felt so familiar, he reminded me of my Dad.

"Come along," he took a key from a big ring and unlocked the gate, a soft clicking echoing throughout the deserted streets. "You may call me Mr. dIAmand."  He swung the gate open and as I took a step, he stopped me with an upraised hand.  "You must," he pointed to Yugo, "leave the misbegotten outside the city walls.  It must return to the desert."

"No!" I shot back, without a moment's hesitation, heartened by my voice ringing in the still night air.  "Yugo and I stay together.  I must get some food for him.  He's starving."  I stroked Yugo and he purred.  "Maybe you can help find his parents."  I smiled at the man-thing, seeing a resemblance between him and Yugo.  Yugo would probably grow up to look a lot like Mr. dIAmand.

"It is not possible," he rejoined, stepping over the threshold into the city.  "Misbegottens are not allowed here in the Perpetual City."

"But he's one of your kind!" I shrieked.  "You can't leave Yugo to die out in the desert!  You can't!"  No one could be that cruel.

Yugo burrowed deeper into my arms.  We both felt terrified that we'd be left outside to die.
The keys jingled and I realized Mr. dIAmand's hand trembled as he spoke.  "It isn't done. The misbegottens do not come back.  You must understand, there is no place for them."  He met my eyes, and I thought I saw sadness in them.  "You mustn't interfere with the way things are here, Elizabeth Conner."

I took three steps over to him, facing him so that he could not avoid looking me in the eyes while I spoke.  "Is that the way things are done here?  Murder of the innocents?"

"No!" he boomed.  "These misbegottens are not innocent!  They accept that they must not be."  Then with a careful gesture, he touched my shoulder with his shaggy hand.  "Do not take it upon yourself to change things.  You cannot make what is acceptable seem wrong.  This cannot be tolerated!"

I sounded a lot braver than I felt, but I had too much to lose to give in to him, even if my own life depended on his help.  "It's murder, Mr. dIAmand, and you'll be a murderer."

"I am only responsible for you!"  He thundered, cutting great arcs with his hand-paw.  "I can do nothing for the misbegotten.  Now come along!"

"Who says?" I challenged.

"Who says?" hooted Mr. dIAmand, clearly puzzled.

"Who makes all these rules and says you're only responsible for me and not for Yugo?"

I had obviously asked the right question by the smug look on Mr. D's face and the sound of his voice.  "Why, the Perfect Council decided these matters long before you or I were born, Elizabeth Conner."
"Well then, Mr. D, we'll challenge the Perfect Council.  You'll be only responsible for me, as I assume full responsibility for Yugo."  I had a vague notion that Mr. D was in a bind; he must have been assigned to take care of me and I meant to use that to my advantage.  "I won't go with you if you won't ask the Perfect Council to consider my case for Yugo."

All the while Yugo mewed I stroked him, offering him all the comfort I could muster.  I banked on Mr. D's sense of 'responsibility' as being about as rigid as he was.

"Excellent idea Elizabeth Conner!  We shall do that.  Now, please come along."  He stood aside for me to walk by and I kept Yugo tucked out of reach, for I wasn't real sure Mr. D wouldn't snatch Yugo and throw him away.

"Elizabeth Conner," Mr. dIAmand brought his hand gently upon my shoulder, "you mustn't call me any name other than my rightful one.  It isn't proper."

Yugo still needed food and I had pushed Mr. D about as far as I thought I could, but I was stuck on a principle.  "In a way, I understand that.  You call me Dusty and I'll call you Mr. dIAmand."  I stretched as tall as I could make myself and looked Mr. D in the eye.

"But, childling, I must call you by your rightful name.  Surely, you can understand that?"  He asked so sincerely, so clearly baffled, that I had to reply with the very truth of the matter.

"It offends me."  I didn't want to go into all the whys and wherefores, so I added, "For reasons of my own."

He studied me, which gave me a chance to look him over, too.  He really was quite beautiful, with long, shiny hair that begged to be brushed and stroked.  He had a nice face, but one that I doubt I could remember or describe, other than it was nice.  I guess that's why he reminded me of my Dad, only Mr. D had a lot more hair.

1…2…3…DON’T BULLY ME!

There are billboards along the highway with positive messages against bullying and websites, many of which are empowering for those who are targets of bullies. Many issues are addressed but one aspect often overlooked is the fourth element in a bully arena:  the bystanders, a silent group that is not affiliated with the bully, the bully’s “henchmen”, or the “reinforcers”.  Data from a study that was done on school bullying sponsored by the Centers for Disease Control, “Preventing Bullying Through Science, Policy, and Practice”, documents these four elements of the bully scenario.

An understanding of the dynamics of bullying can give a perspective on why and how, or why not, a bully becomes a respected force in a peer group.  Status is the main reason behind bullying, and status with respect is conferred by “popularity, dominance and visibility.” But to achieve this, the bully needs an audience. That audience is the “reinforcers” and bystanders. The bully needs others watching him/her tormenting another person.  There are four components in the bully arena:  the “henchmen”, those who help the bully torment the targets and “reinforcers”, those who laugh, cheer, taunt, video the torture, but remain disconnected from the bully, taking an obvious pro-bully side against the victim; and for the victim, the defenders, who can disable the bully in the classroom and outside, more than half of the time.  Lastly, the fourth element, are the bystanders, those who may be also traumatized by fear of the bully but cannot or will not take any action. So, in the arena, you are either the perpetrator, the bully, or an enforcer, an associate of the bully, or a reinforcer, participant in the audience, or a silent someone on the sidelines, a bystander.

What is needed is more defenders. To repeat an interesting point of the study, “The presence of defenders in classrooms is associated with fewer instances of bullying behavior, whereas the presence of reinforcers is linked to increased incidence of bullying (Salmivalli et al., 2011)….Bystanders doing nothing can also send a message that bullying is acceptable.”  This is important because it is the key to breaking the cycle of abuse.  This cycle starts in early grade school, and escalates during the teen years, especially with instances of cyberbullying. While one cannot necessarily vocalize, there are ways to stop the cyberbullies; firstly, by not participating in texting, sexting or harassing on social media, deleting the material after making a copy of the offending material and turning it over to someone in authority, and calling out those who are using cyberspace as an arena for bullying.

Talk, talk, talk to your children.  If we actively encouraged our children to be defenders, especially on the playground, and not to fear repercussions from the bully, then there would be no audience for the bullies.  Without an arena for the bully, henchmen, and reinforcers, there would not be positive payback for picking on someone.  Usually, even one person who speaks up and against the bullying, has a positive impact, stopping the action.  And others will follow the example of the ‘defender’ , but only if it is in the bystander’s best self-interest: i.e., if the bystander does not become the target.

Confronting the bullies can be rewarded by praise and examples set in the classroom by teachers and staff, and at home by caregivers and parents and family members, where children are encouraged to stand up, and speak up, because it is the right thing to do. There is a great website, Stomp out Bullying that used the term “Bystanders….Become Upstanders”.  Just the word, ‘upstanders’ is empowering and can make a big difference between a child feeling second-hand harassment or being proactive in a negative situation.  And it is proven in studies that when teachers, caregivers and parents encourage the ‘silent other’ to speak up on one’s own behalf or anothers, the bullying instances are reduced significantly in the classroom and on the playground. It is more than just words when one has a voice that is heard; it is power to be.

And be sure to check out this awesome website: free2luv.org

Movies About Bullying to Share with Your Kids

Start the conversation about bullying, being a bystander, and being yourself, with these family-friendly movies.

Billy Elliot (2000)
A heartwarming tale of a young boy who dreams of being a dancer despite the protestations of his family and town.

Stars Jamie Bell, Julie Walters, and Jean Heywood.

More on imdb.com>>

The Fat Boy Chronicles (2010)
When overweight teen Jimmy is bullied by his classmates at his new school, he starts keeping a journal to understand his feelings.

Stars Christopher Rivera, Kelly Washington, and Chris Bert.

More on imdb.com>>

Cyberbully (2011)
Teenager Taylor becomes the target of cyberbullying via social media in this drama.

Stars Emily Osment, Kay Panabaker, and Meaghan Rath.

More on imdb.com>>

A Penny in Time Chapter 5: Soul Surfing (part 2)

He must have been puzzled, too. I don't think he had any idea of what a light was, or sunshine. Try explaining it sometime. It really stretches the brain cells. Popped a few of mine, for sure.

"Never mind, Yugo. I'll know it if I see it." Which I didn't, right at the moment. Everything still looked basically the same gray nothingness that covered acres and acres of land. The sky was still a washed-out colorless sheet overhead and the rocks were even all one color of non-color. "This would depress a saint, Yugo. So imagine how I feel."

I wish I hadn't said that, because he did imagine how I felt. Emotions were not a small matter to Yugo and the fleeting moment of hopelessness came back to me magnified. I would have to be more careful, more precise what I meant and to what degree, or I would be too overwhelmed by despair to get up and go on.

I stood, bent over and picked him up, giving him a firm hug. "We're not without hope! We're not going to give up!" I thought then, I would go straight ahead, keep moving until a better idea hit me. As I picked my way down over the rocks, off over my left shoulder, I spotted a bright mass. "Yugo!" I yelped for joy and just about lost my footing. "I think it's a city! Yes, it could be! Hold on!"

I scrambled down from the last rocky shelf, stumbling and almost falling, but Yugo clung to me with an iron grip that amazed me, I'd thought of him as almost helpless. Just as I started forward, I felt a rumbling behind me. I looked over my shoulder and saw a landslide of rocks coming down on us.

My first thought was Yugo. I hunched over, trying to cover him with as much as my body as I could while squeezing under the shelf I had jumped off. Pebbles and stones rained down, pattering the sand, stacking up as a wall around us.

Yugo cried and I felt him quaking in my arms. "It's all right," I reassured him, hoping he would believe me, "we aren't hurt and I'll dig us out of here." When I thought it safe enough, I once again put Yugo in the carrier-scarf and began plucking one by one at the rocks until there was an opening large enough for us to crawl out.

I was so happy, relieved and excited that I think I must have had the strength of Hercules to carry us all the way across the long stretch of sand that sucked at my feet. It was like running a marathon at Alki Beach, but in spite of the slowing down, I jogged at a steady pace, stopping short of the locked gate that led into the city of lights.

I was winded, but awfully happy to be here where there might be civilized beings. The whole place was lit up, the light radiating was clean, clear and bright. The buildings were huge, like gigantic polished mirrors that made what I realized was not a big city but more of a fortress, look so much bigger than it was.

"Our problem now, Yugo," I petted him and felt a hundred smiles inside of me, "is to get inside somehow." I absolutely had no doubt we would and could get there and get help. "I like to hear you purr, little guy."

I could tell he didn't like being strapped over my chest, so I undid the scarf, put him down while I tied the scarf around my waist, and then picked him again. I continued stroking him absent-mindedly while I searched for a doorbell or entrance. I no longer felt panicky, but figured it was just a matter getting someone's attention and we would be let inside. The last thing I figured on was Yugo biting me. "Ow! You brat!" I howled, shaking my hurt hand and hopping around, while I still held on to Yugo. "You're just lucky I didn't drop you on your face!" I examined my hand closely. No blood, but a lot of pain.

"Why'd you do that, anyway?" I peered into his face, and I didn't think he looked the least bit sorry, so I gave him a little shake and asked again, "Why did you bite me?"

Well, I guess if I'd been listening, I'd known the poor thing was hungry, more like starved. He must have thought I'd slacked off my efforts when I gawked so long at the city lights.

"All right, I understand, but remember it's me you're dealing with, and you shouldn't hurt your only friend." I snuggled him closer. "If you do it again, I'll put you down and you'll have to keep up with me any way you can, understand?" I think he took it as an empty threat, but I thought I could do it and would if he bit me again.

I grabbed the gate and rattled it, but it was solid didn't make any noise. I had been so happy to get here that I hadn't even considered the possibility of not getting inside. There was no way for me to climb over the six-foot metal fence, as it was smooth and slick, no footholds anywhere. So close, yet so far.

We'd come such a long way to get here, across a desert, chased by a demon, pelted by a rock slide, only to find out that we couldn't get in. We'd risked out lives to get here, and I wasn't going to let Yugo die. "Hey! Hey, someone, anyone!" I shouted, louder and louder. My echoes repeated, mocking me. "Someone, help! We need help!"

Even as I was shouting and peering through the slats of the gate, I thought it odd no one was in sight. I mean no one, no activity at all. The streets, sidewalks and storefronts were spotless and gleamed in the reflection of the lit-up buildings, making it all the more eerie because the city seemed lifeless. I listened real hard, turning my attention outward away from my thoughts or Yugo. I heard nothing. I felt a hand touch my shoulder. I screamed. Clutching Yugo, I backed up against the fence and stared, mouth wide open at the awesome, nasty looking dude in front of me.

Bullying in the News

Neuroscience of bullying: Why do some find it rewarding?
Medical News Today
"There has been a great deal of study into the psychological and social reasons behind bullying. As neuroscience grows in strength, new findings are also adding to our knowledge about how and why bullying takes place. Researchers now believe that aggressive behavior is associated with an inappropriate activation of the brain's reward system." Read the entire article>>

3 Mistakes Parents Make When Their Own Kids Bully Them
by Sean Grover L.C.S.W., Psychology Today
"When testing turns to bullying, negotiation is off the table. When you negotiate with a bully, you set the stage for ongoing conflicts. Like surrendering, it rewards bullying and trains your child that bullying works. The next time your kid is frustrated by your restrictions, he will return to bullying because bullying leads to negotiation, and negotiation leans to getting what he wants." Read the entire article>>

If You Don’t Get Why Campus Rape Is A National Problem, Read This
by Lydia O'Connor and Tyler Kingkade, Huffington Post
"For many people, reading the Stanford University sexual assault victim’s powerful letter to her assailant was an entry point into the complicated, unjust realities of reporting and punishing sexual assault. While the attention the case — and similar ones at Baylor and Vanderbilt Universities — received is unusual, the attacks are not. Here are some of the most important things you need to know about the scope of sexual assault on college campuses. Around 1 in 5 women may experience sexual assault at college." Read the entire article>>

A Penny in Time Chapter 5: Soul Surfing (part 1)

I awoke with a jolt, squarely on my butt, not knowing where I was or if I were dreaming. Or what. The last thing I remembered was holding Sparky and a fistful of pennies and falling into a black hole. I examined my hands, empty, except for little bits of soft dirt, but no scratches. Still had the band-aid on my right thumb. My heart hammered like it might burst and I was panting like a dog. I guess I had to admit I was scared, because this place was like nothing I had ever seen. I listened and heard the stillness of nothing.

And here I was, in the middle of nowhere. Everything around me was a shade of gray: the sky was ashen, like the aftermath pictures I had seen of Mt. St. Helens; the dirt wasn't brown but ashy-colored and fine, and felt like old newspaper crumbling in my hands; and as far as I could see, a fog covered the ground. Even the bushes were drab and scraggly. No trees, but way off I could make out the outline of mountains.

I got up, and where I had sat were the five pennies. I picked each one up and pocketed them, wiping my hands clean on my jeans. I didn't know where I was or where I should be, or where I was going to go, but I thought I'd better start walking. I expected to stumble over headstones, for this had to be some kind of cemetery, for sure. But there was nothing but vast stretches of nothing. Maybe I was in the 'Twilight Zone'.

The mist swirled and curled around my legs, sweeping over my arms, but I felt neither cold nor damp like fog can make you feel. I felt nothing. I concentrated on counting my heartbeats. At least I'm alive, or I think I am.

I thought I'd better take my bearings, try to memorize my route. I turned around; behind me I saw the mist cover the path I had been walking. In front of me, maybe two or three feet ahead, there was a scrawny bush. It moved. Or did I just imagine it?

Well, I had to find out. When I approached the bush, the movement stopped. My skin crawled, like tiny ants moved up my arms and across my neck. Words froze in my throat, and the only noise that I made was sort of a stuttering hum. The bush chattered and I jumped back. I saw two tiny eyes peering at me, two specks of red lights in a furry face. I knelt down, close but not close enough to touch the creature. It hummed back the same sound I had made.

"It's okay, I won't hurt you," I whispered, wondering if it would hurt me. "Come on, come out. I won't hurt you," I repeated louder, offering my hand like you would for a dog to sniff. It burrowed down into the dirt, all but covered itself, except for those eerie little eyes.

It stayed beneath the bush, hidden by the crackling twigs for a long time. I couldn't leave it there, even though I told myself that I should be worried about myself. I felt incredibly lonely, like if I walked away from this creature, I'd be even more lost. Finally, it wiggled, shaking off the dirt and snapping off pieces of the brush as it ventured forth to almost-touching distance of my hand. It was small and cute like a baby koala bear! I waited, barely breathing, for it to come nearer. When it nuzzled my hand, I slowly brought my other hand over and started stroking its downy fur. "See," I murmured, "I said I wouldn't hurt you."

It answered me with a hum, the same soft monotone of my voice. "You like that, don't you?" I kept petting it and it kept humming, mimicking the sound of my voice.

"Poor, little thing," I scratched its delicate, pointed ear, and took a good look at it. It had a furry body with a face and hands more human-like than animal. "Are you lost, too?" I asked.

It whimpered, sounding just like a baby tired after crying too long. "Come on, then, I'll pick you up and we'll look for your parents." I scooped it up and it snuggled into my arms while I continued stroking it from its head down the middle of its back. It had no tail, but feet with thick pads and five toes. Surely, its mother and father were trying to find it. But where to look? Where to begin? Now, both of us together were in the middle of nowhere.

I don't know how or why, but I got the impression that it didn't have anyone who cared for it. The thought came so suddenly and so surely that I knew it was true. I felt a searing pain inside me, of loss and want and not knowing the why of it. "It's okay," I crooned, "I'll figure something out pretty soon."

I felt a rush of warmth as I looked down at this little creature in my arms, unsure whether the feeling was mine, or it gave the feeling to me. "Whatever," I answered myself out loud, "I guess we share and share alike."

"Do you have a name?" I held the creature at arm's length and stared into its eyes.

"You go!" ripped every thought from my mind, making me gasp in shock and pain.

My head throbbed and I felt like crying. I pressed the creature closer to my chest and waited for the flood of feelings to subside. For a few quiet moments, I tried to come up with a logical explanation for what was happening. As if anything here made sense! But if, and I thought it pretty far-fetched, if we were sharing thoughts, it could be that "You go!" was the only thing it had heard before I had spoken to it. At least it made some sense and gave me the feeling that I was right.

"Well, let's see." I stroked it, using every ounce of good feeling I had to impart as a means of comfort as I ran through a list of names, but none suited it. "Okay, how about Yugo?" I suggested in my nicest, softest voice. "Maybe we can change the bad feeling into something good, what do you say?"

The tangled mess of feelings in my gut unraveled and I relaxed. "Good, then Yugo, we've got one problem solved!" Which made me feel wonderful, except we were still at the same spot we were five minutes ago.

Yugo yelped. I felt his fear like a bolt of lightning through me. I don't know if I heard it, sensed it or saw it, but I do know I was running as fast as I could. Then in a fast glance back I saw a lot of mean something after us. I bolted, putting distance between us and some nasty fangs hot on my heels.

I clutched Yugo tight to my chest and dashed for the mountains, making out a possible hiding place. I ran, gasping and with a stitch in my side. It seemed like a hundred miles later I wedged us behind a big boulder. Whatever that thing was, big, four-footed and ugly as a rabid dog, snarling and pacing around the rock, it wanted us, but couldn't get at us. I told myself that I should be really afraid, but I wasn't. We could wait it out, and it would go away soon. It did.

"Yugo, that was close," I peered out, inspecting our surroundings. "Whatever is that thing?"

‘Not good!’ Punctuated my thoughts.

"Not good," I repeated aloud. Yeah, I guess it wasn't good. "Where do we go from here?"

But I got no answer on that one. Yugo was sound asleep. Me, I was too hyper to sleep, yet exhausted, too. So I sat on top of the flat part of the boulder and rocked Yugo while I looked over the horizon. I really had become attached to this little guy, like he was a part of myself that I understood on a gut level. He wasn't the least bit heavy or hard to carry. I thought how strange, like my arms should be tired by now. But hardly anything made sense here on this forsaken planet without moon, or stars, or for that matter, day or night. I recapped what I did know, very little at that: I had Yugo, who had me, and we had between us, a sharing. But practically, we had nothing. No food, water, or shelter. I didn't feel cold, hot or hungry, just all these crazy, mixed-up emotions.

Yugo must have had parents and a home at one point in his life, but he wasn't saying if he remembered. Maybe it was best he didn't remember, for the pain might be unbearable. Didn't I know how it felt when someone you loved suddenly stopped caring for you?

"Are you awake, little guy?" He stretched, tensed and relaxed, then nodded off again. "It's not going to be easy for me to find some place for us to go, unless you can help." But he didn't seem to hear, or least he didn't respond.

Where do you go when you don't know where you are?

I did know I had left nothing behind me, and as far as I could see, there was nothing to the right or left of us, except a huge mountain. I had to scale the steep slope and look around. What would I do with Yugo? I had to have my hands free. Then it hit me! Of course, I could wrap Yugo in my scarf and use my scarf as a carrier.

I woke Yugo when I put him down beside me. "It's okay," I answered his whine, "I'll show you what I have in mind." I unwound the scarf, scooped him up and gently placed him down on it, criss-crossing the ends. "Look, I’ll carry you while I climb over these rocks to get to the top and see if there is a place for us to go." I hugged him close as I could without smothering him and tied the ends.

I could tell Yugo didn't much like my idea, but he did understand we didn't have much of a choice. I had hoped he would remember something useful and relay it, but he didn't and I began the long, hard climb over the dark side of the mountain towards the top with Yugo mewing all the way.

"Listen! This is no picnic for me," I huffed and puffed, pulling us over another rock. The closer I got to the top, the further it seemed to be. We were getting nowhere. Finally, I had to stop and sit down to rethink a new plan.

"Is there no light?" I asked Yugo once I had unstrapped him and stuffed my scarf into my pants pocket.

A Penny in Time Chapter 4: I Do, Again (Part 2)

I didn't bother answering, for I'm sure he wouldn't have heard me anyway.  He carried one box into the house, all the way to my bedroom where I sat down at my desk and studiously began to ignore him.  He finally left, but I don't know how long he stayed in the living room talking with my Mom.
Mom came to my door and stood until I looked over at her.  "What happened, Dusty?"

"He let Sylvia paint my bed, dresser and replace all my stuff with cute pictures of kittens and calendars of kids with big eyes."  I took a pair of scissors and cut geometric shapes out of some construction paper.  "He doesn't listen to me, anymore.  It's like he's got this image of me and when I don't fit into his scenario, he gets mad at me, because I won't change.  He knows I don't like him calling me Princess or Elizabeth, but he does it anyway; so does Sylvia.  It's like when he met her, his brain went to mush and he forgot who I am, or got me confused with someone else I haven't met.  I don't want to be around him anymore, not at all.  He's not my father," I threw down the scissors and crumpled the paper into a big ball.  "He's an alien creature using my father's body.  He's not making any sense to me anymore.  I don't ever want to see him again!"

I was too mad to cry, too mad to do anything but sit and stare at the wall with my Star Trek™ calendar on it.  I was grateful my Mom left me alone for the rest of the evening, because I didn't want talk about it anymore.  What could she possibly understand about me and Dad?  She hadn't lost her father like I had my Dad.  She'd had the "perfect" childhood, according to Nana and Grandpa.  She and Nana took cooking classes together, and she and Grandpa went fishing, every opening day since Mom was five.  I know she still missed her Dad, she talks a lot about the fun times she had with him and how much she loved him and he loved her, sometimes choking on tears, but she lost Grandpa when he was old.  What did she know about not having a real, full-time Dad?  I listened to some tapes, and read for quite awhile before I fell asleep with all my clothes on.  I even forgot to brush my teeth.

The next day, Dad came over to the house.  "Dusty, can we talk about this?"  He sat down on the couch and waited for me to answer him.

"I talk but you don't hear me."  I twisted the hem of my shirt into a wad.  "Why did you let Sylvia paint my bedroom set, when we were going to do that together?  That's not my style, that fluffy stuff, and you know it.  Don't you?"

There was a long, long moment of silence.  I thought maybe he wasn't going to say anything.
"I, I...." he stammered, "I thought you'd outgrown all that other stuff, that you were more interested in being a young lady than a tomboy.  After all, you're fifteen, not eleven."

"That's what I mean, Dad.  You haven't heard me at all.  I'm me, the way I am.  You're not the same father that I had a year ago.  Have you forgotten I don't, and have never, liked pink?"
"Oh, honey, can't you see that Sylvia is trying to please you?  She worked so hard and you hurt her feelings when you left like that, not even a thank you."

"Dad!" I shouted, "I don't like pink!  And I want everyone to call me Dusty, until I'm ninety-nine and a half!"  My hands were shaking.  "And you had no right to lie to me about Victoria!  Why don't you just live your life and let me live mine, okay?"

"No, I'm not going to go away.  And you can't wish me away.  I admit I was a total jerk about Victoria, but I didn't know how to say I was.  Or to tell you I was sorry I disappointed you."  He came over to me and hugged me.  "Come on, spend the night with us.  Sylvia has a great dinner planned for us and we can get a DVD for later."

It was his way of apologizing, and he's the guy that's never wrong.  I felt bullied by two different feelings.  I didn't want to give in, but I didn't like being mad at him, either.  "Okay, but I'll bring my sleeping bag and sleep on the floor." I threw my sleeping bag into the trunk and watched it mushroom open as the bungee cord popped off.

He was irritated, but conceded.  "Maybe you'll like your room once you get used to it." He pulled into his parking slot, got out of the car and slammed the door.

I hugged the billowing sleeping bag close to my chest as I trailed behind him into the condo. Get used to it? I thought looking in the room.  Never.

But we all tried hard to be cheerful and I did have a good time, somewhat.  Sylvia didn't feel well, so we had take-out pizza.  She held my Dad's hand the whole time we watched "Star Trek V" and broke out in tears all the way through it, which annoyed me to no end.  It was only a movie, and why get so worked up when you know the good guys are going to make everything all right in the end?  Sylvia was just too sentimental to be real.

Which maybe explained why she was sick in bed with the flu the next weekend.  I called Slinky up and asked her to a movie, but she had a date with a new guy. Dean and Fran, and even Annie were doing volunteer community cleanup.  Mom offered to take me bowling, but that didn't appeal to me.
"How about," Mom sat on my bed, while I sat at my desk, sketching a drawing of the 'Enterprise', "doing a 'Star Trek' mural on this wall?"  She pointed to the wall which had some faded posters I had meant to take down anyway.  She got up and looked over my shoulder.  "You could draw the 'Enterprise' and I'll superimpose faces of the crew, with a background of the galaxy.  What do you say?"

"All right!"  I could see it so clearly, almost as if the wall were all ready done.  I pointed to the spot where the galaxy would go.  "The Sombrero galaxy is classified as "Sa", which means it's a galaxy with a large, central bulge, with spiral arms winding around its outside.  That's how it got the name.  It's really does look like a gigantic hat!"  Mom nodded, looking excited, too.  I grabbed her and gave her a big hug.  "You sure you have the time?"  I asked, but prayed that I hadn't reminded her of something else she should be doing instead.

"I have the time, Dusty.  Let's get to work."

She and I worked all day Saturday afternoon, until six that night.  It wasn't as easy as I thought it would be, as I had to keep redrawing the starship to proportion on the wall.  It seemed Mom looked at a picture from the 'Star Trek' calendar, and reproduced the faces of Captain Picard's, Riker's, Data's and Counselor Troi's faces without any effort.

"I can't get it right!" I wailed, throwing down the sketching pencil I had been using.  "It's so easy for you!"

Mom stopped a moment and grinned.  "I've been doing this a lot longer than you have.  And you'll get it," she stood back and examined the wall.  "I'd say you almost have it.  We'll finish tomorrow."
Which we did after our pancake brunch.  The mural was the neatest thing I'd ever seen, and to think I did a fair share of the work!  Sitting in my room made it seem like I was in the center of the starship, and I could imagine voyaging across the Sombrero galaxy to unknown worlds of adventure.

At three o'clock on Sunday, Dad called.

"Hi, babe!  I have to tell you something, something real important."

He had that nervous pitch to his voice, which meant I wasn't going to like what he had to say.  "I'm listening."

He took a big breath, then plunged in.  "We've wanted to tell you for a couple of weeks, but the right time never seemed to come up.  I'll just say it straight.  Sylvia's going to have a little baby girl."

The puzzle pieces fell into place!  Sylvia's "flu"--and that's why she had fixed up my room the way she wanted it to look--for her kid!  "I hope the three of you are happy!" I snarled.

"Don't get nasty, young lady.  We're all going to have a major adjustment and I'm counting on you to be mature about this."

The pocket full of lies and hurt burst, and I was through with stuffing it all in.  "You've got your new life, why don't you just leave me alone?" I shouted, dropping the phone.

I stormed out of the house.  I jogged up the street, then fast-walked until I could breathe without hiccupping.  Two hours and ten minutes later, I came home.  When I opened the front door, Mom looked up from her book.

"How are you?"  She closed the book on her finger, and waited for my reply.

"I'm okay, I guess."

"Your father dropped by and left you a note.  I put it on your desk."

"I saw his car."

"We had a long talk.  About you."  She slipped a book marker in between pages and set the book on the coffee table.  "Come sit a moment and hear me out."

Geez, this was strange, like I was her guest invited for afternoon tea.  She didn't say a thing about me flying out of the house and staying gone, although I had sat across the street in the park for the last forty-five minutes.  I suppose she could have seen me if she'd looked out the window.

I expected a lecture, and I guess I should have felt gratified that I was going to get one.

"It must seem like your father only considers his viewpoint, that the changes our divorce put you through didn't hurt.  Am I right?"

I shrugged, but the words had hit a sore spot right in the middle of my heart.  "Yeah."

I didn't want to change things anymore, not for the better or back to the way they were.  I just wanted my life free of my Dad and Sylvia.  "I don't care if I ever see Dad again.  I don't like him."  I took a tissue and shredded it, then balled it up.  "He doesn't care what I want, and how many times do I have say I don't like the color pink? I doubt he thought about me at all, because pink is for babies, right?  Besides, he'll get along fine with another kid, won't he?  And I'm not going to babysit for them.  Ever." 

Mom chuckled!  "I don't know that I blame you."  I focused on her moving lips.  "He wants you to like Sylvia, so he wants you to be like him, or at least agree with him."  She left a pause, working her tongue across her lower lip.  "Loving your father is not the same as liking him; and liking him is not the same as getting along with him, is it?"

"No," I blurted, willing to talk things out with her.

"Dusty, there's something I'm going to tell you about my father that made me face some of the very feelings you're having now."  She stopped for a moment and I could see by the frown lines between her eyes that she was having a hard time choosing the right words.  "Like loving your father and thinking he would always be there for you, then he isn't.  Saying he'll do something special with you, then leaving you high and dry, making excuses for all the many broken promises."  She laughed, like you do when you feel like crying.

"Daddy had a gambling problem."  Mom looked at me and I saw her lip tremble.  "He lost a lot of money at the race track.  A lot of money."  She swept the air with her hands, as if erasing everything in front of her.  "There was no money for my senior prom dress, no promised car, no college tuition."  She looked off into the distance, maybe seeing something beyond the window that no one else could.
"I hated him so much for taking everything away from me, for his selfishness and weakness.  I had to work two jobs to finish college and even though my mother went back to nursing, I helped pay some of the bills.  I couldn't understand why she stayed with him.  But she stayed with him through the bad years and the good years after he recovered in therapy."

Her voice was soft but urgent.  "It took me a long time, Dusty, a long time to forgive him."

Mom folded her legs beneath her and sat back.  "It also took me a long time to understand my mother's advice:  you have to accept the one you love, in spite of the bad, because of the good.  It wasn't until after you were born that my father and I talked things out.  Nothing happened overnight, either.  Things got better day by day, in little ways."  She leaned forward and although I sat too far away, I felt like she had hugged me.

It would have been nice if I could have gone over and comforted her with a hug, but I felt cast in lead on the outside, and a bag of pieces inside, trying to sort out everything.  Boy, Grandpa really must have changed.  He always had some little surprise, or something that made us laugh when he came to visit.

Maybe Mom did understand how I felt, but I still didn't see how I could work it out with my Dad.  "Dad and I are not like we used to be, you know?  What am I supposed to do if I can't like the color pink?"

"I don't know, Dusty," Mom whispered.  "What color is love?"

I stood up, choking back my tears, grateful she understood so much, but feeling lost that she didn't have any answers either.  "I don't know and I don't think you or Dad know, either."

She picked up her book and settled back into her easy chair.  "Maybe you'll find the answer and tell us."  She began reading as I went back to my room and sat down at my desk, staring at my newly painted mural.

I wish I could be like Data, logical without emotions making everything so confusing.

I cuddled my raggedy stuffed bear, Sparky as I looked at the envelope my Dad had propped against an old notebook.  I batted the envelope, upsetting the notebook which burped papers all over.  I got a paper cut across my thumb that bled and bled, until I put a bandage on it.  After awhile, I fished out the envelope from the mess of papers and opened it.

Out fell five pennies with his note:  "Dusty, let's talk.  I'll try to make sense out of things."

It was just like my Dad to use a stupid pun.  I scooped up the pennies and Sparky, pressing my face into his soft belly.  A fierce and terrible pain sucked the breath from me.  There was a huge, black hole inside of me.  I was falling, falling into an abyss. Away, away, down down, down.

Here’s What’s Happening Lately with Bullying

Cool Kids Can Curb Bullying, Study Finds
Schools experienced a 30 percent decrease in bullying if their most social students took a stand.

by Lauren Camera

Schools may have more success curbing incidents of bullying if their most social students take an anti-bullying stance as opposed to teachers and administrators setting blanket rules and regulations against it.

That’s the new finding from a group of researchers from Princeton University, Rutgers University and Yale University whose study shows that when students are the ones to take a stand against bullying – as opposed to adults in the school – it's significantly more impactful.

Over the course of the 2012-2013 school year, 56 New Jersey middle schools that armed their most influential students with social media training and various bullying awareness gear, like bright-colored wrist bands, saw a 30 percent reduction in student conflict reports.

Read the entire article at US News.com>>


How Trisha Prabhu is Curbing Cyberbullying

By Trisha Prabhu, as told to April Daley

Two and a half years ago, Trisha Prabhu began work on ReThink, an anti-cyberbullying app that prompts adolescents to reconsider messages they’re about to text or post. Here, the 15-year-old Illinois student explains how she created a product that could maybe, finally make the Internet a safe space for teens.

In 2013, I read an article about 12-year-old Rebecca Sedwick, who jumped off her town’s water tower because she’d been cyberbullied. I was heartbroken. I started looking up other stories, reading about kids hanging themselves in their bedrooms after being told the world would be a better place without them. It hit me in the gut.

Read the entire article at MentalFloss.com>>

A Penny in Time Chapter 4: I Do, Again (Part 1)

Slinky went with me and Sylvia the day we were to try on dresses.  She got along just fine with Sylvia.  Susan and Sylvia could sit in a corner and talk about bridesmaids' dresses and perfect shoes for the next hundred years.

I finally screwed up enough courage to come clean.  "Sylvia, I'm not going to be a flower girl in your wedding."  Her eyes bugged.  "I'm just too old to be flinging flowers around."

"Oh, of course, Elizabeth.  But I still want you to be in the wedding, as my bridesmaid."  She smiled like it was the brightest idea she'd ever had, and what's worse, Slinky nodded in agreement.

I shook my head.  "No, really.  I don't want to trip or anything.  I hate to be the one to spoil your big day."  I gave her a lame smile back, thinking how much she spoiled my life.

"I'll serve punch with Slinky, okay?  And you won't have to get me a special dress, or anything."
My Dad looked disgusted and didn't say much to me the rest of the day.  I should have pointed out to him how I was saving him the expense of the powder-blue satin and velvet dress that was not worth it for little ole me, who wouldn't be caught dead in a dress like that, even at her own funeral.

I considered wearing plaid sneakers with my plain, sleeveless blue dress. Leaning against the doorjamb, arms folded across her chest, Mom eyed me critically.

“Hey, it’s a fashion statement,” I flung my arms wide and twirled. “And comfortable. I’ll be standing awhile.” I grabbed my scarf and with dramatic flourish draped it around my neck.

“The trouble with ‘statements’ made in anger,” Mom straightened and wagged a finger, “is that you live to regret them. Chose your battles wisely.”

“Whoa, what about individuality, Mom-the-artist?” I mimicked her stance with my hands on my hips.
“I guess it is a matter of definition. Are you an individual or a just a rebellious teen? One is taken seriously, the other is not.” She turned around and left me there to think about it.

It was a beautiful June day for the wedding. I wore the blue dress with the scarf, but chose comfortable white ballerina shoes. I borrowed my mother’s diamond stud earrings, which were a little larger than the diamond in my newly pierced nose. My Dad’s parents picked me up two hours before the ceremony and clearly avoided looking closely at the center of my face the entire way over to the church.

I felt queasy during the ceremony, and concentrated on not throwing up, parked in the front pew with my grandparents.  The bride came down the aisle, a white-laced illusion.  The groom appeared by her side.  And they recited their vows.

How can they take vows to love, honor and cherish one another through sickness and health, till death do them part?  Surely it must have crossed Sylvia's mind that my Dad had said those vows once before.  I wondered if Mom really wished Dad all the happiness in the world, or if she were sitting at home feeling as rotten as I was.

I stood beside Slinky at the refreshment table, and helped pass out the three-hundred plates with slices of white cake with raspberry filling and butter cream frosting that I didn't even taste.  The reception line went on forever, with the band playing dippy love songs that couples slow-danced to.  Every chance he got, my Dad introduced me as “Elizabeth, my daughter,” in one breath.  Finally, someone, I think it was the matron of honor, announced the bride and groom would leave for their honeymoon after the last dance.

Slinky waved frantically at me.  "Your Dad's looking for you.  He wants to dance with you."
"I have to go to the bathroom.  Too much punch."  I hurried out of the room.  I didn't feel like dancing with someone who couldn't remember my name.  I joined my grandparents outside as the crowd threw rice at the departing newlyweds.

     All I wanted to do was go home and watch my favorite TV program with my Mom.  I mean, if spending the evening with my Mom sounded like a good idea, then you know I must have been a sorry space cadet.

"Hey, Princess," my Dad's voice carried miles, as he beckoned me after shutting the door of the black limousine on Sylvia's veil.  "When we get back from Hawaii you come spend the weekend with us, okay?"

Grandma gave me a little nudge.  "Go over and kiss him good-bye, real fast, like a bunny."
I wasn't going to run across the lawn in new shoes that hurt my feet and end up skidding half-way to Oregon just to give my Dad a kiss good-bye.  I suppose I could have hopped like a bunny and made a real spectacle of myself, but then someone would have told my Mom and she would have lectured me for an hour about it.

Instead, I waved.  "Bye, Dad.  Have a nice time," although by the look on his face I don't think he bought my sincerity, which made me feel kind of bad all of a sudden.  So I walked over and gave him a big kiss on the cheek.  "Really, Dad, have a good time." And, I thought, do some soul-surfing while you’re at it.

He hugged me for a long time.  "All of us will go next time, okay?"

I said nothing.  He and Sylvia could go on a trip every year or twice a month, but I didn't want to be with them.  Maybe they deserved each other, I didn't really care.  Things were never going to be the same with me and my Dad, and I guess I'd have to get used to that, but I didn't have to like it.  I wasn't going to let him go without a little hurt of his own.

"Hey, Dad," he turned, still smiling at me as I spoke, "please don't call me 'Princess', okay?"

He looked stunned a moment, then his smile returned.  "All right.  I'll see you in a couple of weeks, okay?"

I watched until they were out of sight.  I waited forever for my grandparents to say their farewells so that we could leave.  Slinky immediately started babbling when she got into the car, comparing notes with my grandmother.  I leaned my head back and shut my eyes, while Slinky rattled on and on about the lovely wedding.

It seemed a small bit of eternity with all the farewells.  I heaved a sigh of relief when I made it to my bedroom, and changed into my jeans and sweater.  The house was quiet and my Mom was in the back bedroom working on an art project for her class next Friday.  This, I decided, is how things should be, and settled down with a cold glass of milk before the television.  The only thing that spoiled it was a rerun of "Star Trek, the Next Generation" that I had already seen, but no matter, I liked it anyway.
Reruns were a lot better than being with Dad and Sylvia.  It was like we were aliens that didn't speak the same language.  I miss the way my life used to be, when Mom and Dad were together.  I miss the old Slinky that wasn't involved up to her shaved armpits with boys, clothes and make-up.  Frank got a job at McDonald's™ and I don't see him much, either.  I wish I could change everything back again, make it right, and everyone would be happy.  Only it seems everyone is happy, except for me.

Summer was the season for changes for me.  My body "blossomed" as Nana and Mom kept saying; shopping took on a whole new twist as I had to have bras, an electric shaver, and all sorts of things to accommodate Mother Nature.  I didn't have that much time for Dad, as I kept pretty busy with babysitting jobs every weekend and three weeks in August, yard work with Dean and Fran, earning plenty of money for new clothes.  I took my new position as Class Treasurer seriously and looked forward in the fall to starting tenth grade with the honors' class.  I was beginning to feel more responsible for my own life, like I could make decisions for myself and think through problems on my own.  

Dad didn’t seem to notice the changes.  We got along all right, like people do when they see each other once in a while, chatting about everyday stuff.  It had been a month or more since I'd spent a weekend with them at their condo, and when Dad asked me to stay over, I said I would.  I brought my star stencil kit and intended to ask him to help me do the ceiling.  I was stunned when I walked into my bedroom and saw what Sylvia had done to it.

My unstained bed and dresser were white with ugly, little gold scrolls here and there.  White curtains outlined the windows and the bedspread was the most hideous pink, ruffled thing with teeny red roses that I had ever seen.  The little porcelain unicorn sat smugly in the middle of the dresser.  I thought I'd throw up right then and there!  All my posters, banners and pictures were stacked neatly in two boxes.  The Disneyland banner I had brought to put up wilted in my grip as I blinked and blinked, hoping this ugly scene right out of Grimm's fairy tale would disappear.

But it didn't.  Dad draped his arm around my shoulder.  "What do you think?  Fit for a Princess, huh?"  His eyes twinkled and he grinned.  "Sylvia worked for three days to get it ready for you.  Like it?"

"Oh, Dad!" I slapped my forehead and acted like I had a sudden, horrible thought.  "I forgot I have to babysit tonight!  Could you take me home right now?"

"Sure, I'll get my keys."  He looked at me strangely, not moving.

"Could you take the other box, Dad?  There's no sense in leaving this crap here for anyone to trip over."  I picked up the larger box and made for the front door.  "Hope I didn't mess up your dinner, Sylvia."

"That's okay, honey, we'll do something special next weekend.  Maybe we can shop in the morning and catch a movie in the afternoon.  All right?"

"Sounds just great," I said, and I knew the sarcasm was unmistakable, even without the dirty look my Dad gave me.

"What's wrong with you, Elizabeth Conner?" he growled as we stood by the car.  "You're acting like an obnoxious child!"

"I'm sorry!  I guess I could have called Mom to come get me."  I straightened out the Disneyland banner on top of the star stencil box before Dad slammed the trunk shut and squashed himself down into the driver's seat.

"I don't care about that!"  He half-turned, his hand clutching the steering wheel and shaking the keys at me.  "You're not the sweet little girl that you used to be." 

"You're right, I'm not!"  I was steamed, too.  "You're not like the father you used to be, either!"
"Well, I haven't changed, Elizabeth."  He jammed the key into the ignition.  "I don't want anymore of this attitude problem, do you understand?"