Bully Burying

(I wrote this essay for a local contest. I didn't win.)

Benny was 13. I was 12.

I was a walking bean pole - nearly six foot tall but only 90 pounds. Benny was shorter but solid.

He went to my school, but wasn't in my class. He didn't ride my bus or live on my street. We were both friends with Chad, who would connect us.

But I tried to avoid Benny however I could.

Because Benny was a bully.

He'd push me around. Mock things I said. Intimidate me.

He had two buddies who treated me the same.

There was Lyle. Whenever a cartoon has a pack of hyenas in it, there's always one that laughs at the wrong time. That was Lyle.

Craig was two years older and already placing in bodybuilding competitions. He would run into me in the school hallways and then tell me to watch where I was going.

I never knew what they had against me. I was an introverted bookworm. I didn't come from money. I didn't have a cool bike or skateboard. And I wasn't competing with them on sports or music teams. There weren't girls around to fight over.

One winter Saturday I'd invited Chad over to go sledding in my back yard.

He showed up with Benny.

I bundled up and went out, hoping maybe it would be okay since it wasn't the whole gang.

Nope.

It wasn't long before Benny was chasing me. He wanted to shove my face in the snow until I cried uncle. I had a lead on him, but he was faster and we both knew it.

I did the only thing I could think of. I waited until Benny was just a couple of steps behind me. Then I stopped and crouched down, holding my hands over my head.

It worked.

Benny couldn't stop. He went tumbling over me, faceplanting into the snow.

In a movie, Benny might have shook the snow out of his eyes, laughed, said "you're alright, kid" and became a new friend.

But this wasn't a movie. There was an awkward standoff. More words were exchanged, then Bennie left with Chad. I didn't go inside with a black eye, but the situation with Benny and his gang didn't change.

Every day at school, I had to watch out for them. Rumors confirmed that they still had it in for me.

There were more hallway shoulders, confrontations, and verbal abuse, but - thankfully - graduation came and went without getting beat up.

I avoided Lyle at the five-year reunion. but otherwise I hadn't seen or heard anything about my gang of bullies in forty years.

Writing about Michigan backyards in the winter brought that snowy chase back to mind. And then I asked that dangerous question: "Whatever happened to..."

There's an old quote that says "living well is the best revenge." As I typed the gang's names into a web browser, I thought I had lived well. I have a wife, kids, and a successful career. I've written books, spoken at conferences, and traveled extensively.

I deserved the revenge.

Right?

Revenge for threatening me as a skinny 12 year old. Revenge for chasing me in my own backyard. Revenge for ruining so many days at school. For making me live on the edge of fight or flight.

For making me feel weak in front other kids at school.

Searches for Lyle and Craig were a bust. Their names were too common. They stayed hidden in dozens of online profiles.

But with Benny?

I got a hit.

Which immediately turned my needs to dust.

The link was to Benny's obituary from eight years ago.

He'd passed away at age 47.

During those years when I'd lost track of him Benny came to Christ. The obituary described him as "first and foremost a strong Christian man."

After high school Benny joined the Marines and served during Desert Storm and Desert Shield.

Then he got married and started a local job. The marriage and job were still going 20 years later when he passed away.

Benny left behind two sons.

A wife lost her husband. Sons lost their father. A family lost a brother and uncle. A business lost an employee. The United States lost a trained soldier.

I got angry.

He'd hurt me, damn it.

I didn't want to let that go.

I still wanted revenge and Benny was mocking me again, cheating me out of the satisfaction I deserved to feel.

How dare he die.

Then I got angry at myself.

For being angry.

Obituaries are the original "social media update," often filled with the highlights of a person's life while glossing over any negatives. There could've been any number of things going on in Benny's house.

But I think he'd changed. He served the country in a way that I never did. He worked for one employer longer than I ever did.

He didn't get to see his boys both graduate. Or get married. He missed out on countless birthdays, anniversaries, reunions, and work celebrations.

The cause of his death was unspecified. It might have been painful.

What were my losses compared to his? To his family's?

I had no choice.

I had to bury my need for revenge with him.

I claim the same faith that Benny did.

It has forgiveness at its core.

I might have been a victim, but I don't want to be a hypocrite.

So I forgive you, Benny.

But I can't help but think you're the one who actually got revenge by living well.

Bastard.