A TRUE STORY OF REDEMPTION
That Time a Bully Asked Me for Forgiveness
Inside the heart of a bully
Bullies have been around forever. So have I, but that’s not the same. Anyway, this story from my high school days during the 1970s still resonates because bullies are timeless.
It all started when I began to innocently walk across the street during an open period.
I have no idea how high schools work these days, but in the mid-1970s, my high school had an open campus policy that allowed us to leave school grounds for lunch.
Normally, I would have been driving my mom’s car, a 1967 Pontiac LeMans, trying to see through the cloud of smoke puffed out by my passengers, who were students of the bong and the kind of fat joint that could be easily shared by five kids in a hurry to get high before they arrived at the nearby McDonald’s.
Sidebar: My mom was a full-blown pill addict, so, lucky me, I drove her car to school almost every day like it was my own. I didn’t disavow the kids in my inner, outer, and middle circles of the notion that it was mine. This made my car a popular destination for many…
