On 18 Aug 2010 18:25:02 -0500, " +Grant. " <+Grant@grant.grant> wrote:
>
>
>The Adventures of Stevie #30
>
>These stories were told to me by friends and other people. Some of them
>are true. Some of them are only partly true. Some of them should have
>been true. LOL
>
>My first post about Stevie ("Call me Stephen!") was when he was 12 and
>in summer camp and was told by another camper. This was from a time
>before computers would fit on a desk and when people communicated with
>friends in other countries by actual letters sent through the postal
>service. When children did this those friends were called "penpals".
>Carlos is Stevie's penpal in Argentina and knows English. This is a
>fictional contrivance to enable Stevie to tell us his stories because
>he isn't here in person. I think.
>All characters are fictitious, even if some of them might have names
>that belong to some actual people, or act like people we know.
>Stevie's school is for gifted children who don't fit in regular schools.
>The stories may not be posted in chronological order.
>Stevie is 11 in this story. It takes place 3 weeks after story #29.
>
>
>The Adventures of Stevie #30 "Mother and a Rule"
>
>
>Dear Carlos,
>
>
> Mother wants me to leave the school, only she doesn't know it. Before
>I tell you about that, I have to tell you something else which will
>help you know about what I did about it.
>
> I play chess. I really play it. Most people don't really play while
>they play chess, they work hard at it. I don't have to work hard at it,
>so I can play, because I'm really good at it. So is all our family,
>except mother. I'm the best, though. That's not bragging because I
>always beat them. Father likes to use chess to help explain about life,
>and how you can use what you do in chess to help you in real life
>situations. To play it well, you have to think about the next move you
>make, and what the other guy can do about it, and then what you can do
>about what he can do about it, and keep thinking that as far into the
>future you can go, before you make your move. The very best players can
>do that almost to the end of the game, from the first few moves. You
>can do that in real life too, not just in the game. We have a short
>word for that kind of thinking ahead. We call it "chessing" at school,
>or "chess it," after I told them about father's idea. I do it all the
>time for everything. I do it in my sleep too. That's what dreams are
>really for. Now you will understand how and what I did.
>
> Here is what happened.
>
> My parents told me to come to a meeting with them at home after
>school. Mother told me she doesn't want Tommy to visit me anymore. I
>asked why. She said "Don't talk back to me!" That means she knows she
>is wrong but won't admit it, so I knew father had told her that
>already, and left it up to me to prove she is wrong, if I can, without
>her making him spank me, so he can still sleep in the same bed with
>her.
>
> I said "But I need to know why you don't like him, so I can make sure
>I don't bring any other people here like that, which you wouldn't want
>me to. Wouldn't you like that?" Father told her "That's a reasonable
>request. Why don't you tell him?" She told me "Because he teaches you
>fighting. I don't want you to fight. You don't need to learn how." I
>must have looked as surprised as I felt at how stupid she sounded.
>Father signaled "caution" at me. Then I realized what it could all
>mean. I would have to leave the school because learning fighting is a
>requirement for students who can. And then something else hit me like a
>bomb exploding in my heart. She wanted me to die.
>
> I started crying. Father looked surprised, and that surprised me. I
>did something he never expected! I beat him. That made me almost stop
>crying. Mother said "What are you crying for? Stop acting like a baby!"
>So I told her "Because you want me to die!" Mother yelled "What?!?!"
>and raised her hand to slap me. Then father did something I never
>expected, something I never saw him do before. He grabbed her wrist and
>pushed her arm down and said to her "Lets find out what he means before
>we jump to conclusions." Before she could catch her breath and yell at
>him too, I told him "I need to know how to defend myself if somebody
>wants to hurt me." Mother calmed down a little and said "Nonsense! If
>you obey the Golden Rule, nobody will hurt you." I cried some more in
>frustration. She said "Now what's the matter?"
>
> Now I had my opening, but I was really afraid to use it. I decided to
>do it a little move at a time. I asked her "Why do you keep doing
>that?" She looked confused and said "What do you mean?" I said "Why do
>you keep saying things which are not true? You do that a lot and it's
>very confusing." She said "I do not! If you don't fight, people won't
>want to fight with you or hurt you." Then I let her have it. I screamed
>at her "BUT THEY ALREADY DID!" This time father grabbed her hand before
>she could raise it to slap me, and used his sharp voice to her and said
>"Wait, I want to hear about this," and to me, "Go head, explain." I
>did. I will tell you.
>
> I was walking home from school after the only detention I ever had. I
>was in grade 3, and the busses were already gone. It was 2 miles to get
>home. There were other kids in the area, but I didn't pay them any
>attention. I should have, but it wouldn't have changed anything. 4 boys
>followed me. They were 6 graders, and bigger than most, like I was the
>opposite for a 3 grader. When I got to a metal fence they came up
>behind me and attacked me. They knocked me down and my books went
>flying. I rolled around to try to get away, but they kept jumping on
>me. They tried to hit and kick me but they missed because I was moving
>so fast, but I couldn't get away. Then somehow I was on top of the
>biggest attacker. Then he rolled over and I was really pinned on the
>bottom under him, and I saw he was going to punch me in my face and I
>couldn't stop him. Then it happened.
>
> No, not the punch. One of his friends had grabbed a loose pipe from
>the fence and was going to hit me when I was on top. Instead he hit the
>boy who was now on top of me, across the shoulder blades. I think if he
>had hit him higher or lower, that boy would be dead. If I had still
>been on top, that pipe would have hit me in the back of my neck, and I
>would not be here to tell you this. The boy he hit yelled and jumped
>off me. Then I got mad.
>
> I knew they were trying to beat me up, but I didn't know till then
>they wanted to kill me. I had thought it was more like a game, thought
>it was even a little fun, because I wasn't hurt yet. But now a boy was
>hurt and I didn't like that at all. I got mad. REALLY mad. I screamed
>at them like I was a wild animal, and acted like it too. They ran away
>from me, and I CHASED them. One of them even climbed the fence and fell
>over to the other side and rolled down the steep hill. The other boys
>ran along side the fence in both directions until I couldn't see them
>any more. I calmed down, picked up my books, and finished walking home,
>and forgot about it, and never told anybody what happened. I never saw
>those boys again.
>
> I could tell father was really surprised, and a little upset. I like
>surprising him because it's so hard to do. It's like a game for me,
>which I hardly ever win. Now I did it 2 times in one day! I felt good
>about that, but not good about making him upset for me. Mother ruined
>it with "Why didn't you run away? You should have, and all that
>wouldn't have happened." I said "You did it again!" She said "Did
>what?" I said "You said something that's not true again." Before she
>could say something back, I said "I was only 8, but I wasn't dumb
>enough to try to run away from boys who could run 3 times faster than
>me. And turn my back on them? Never! I knew all that wouldn't work.
>What I don't understand now is why you don't. You are much older than I
>am. You should know these things every smart kid knows. I don't know
>why you don't. The Golden Rule didn't work. I never did ANYTHING to
>those boys. I couldn't have because I never saw them before, but they
>attacked me. The Golden Rule didn't stop them. When you say I have to
>obey it, it means to me you want me to DIE! I didn't die then just
>because of luck. I can't expect to be that lucky the next time it
>happens, and it WILL. Haven't you noticed I'm too small for my age, and
>I'm different? That makes me a target for all the bullies who see me.
>So I have a big question for you. Why don't you want me to learn how to
>protect myself? Why do you want me to die?"
>
> Father said "That's enough, go to your room," and signaled "work in
>progress" to me. That meant I did what he wanted me to do, and he would
>do the rest for now. I CHESSED RIGHT!
>
> I left, but still listened to them. Father said "He made some valid
>points. He IS choice meat for bullies, more than he realizes. Why don't
>we let this rest for now, and talk with him some more about this when
>he calms down. Maybe tomorrow. We don't have to make a firm decision on
>this issue right away." She said "We'll see." That is the best she can
>do to admit she is wrong, but still might never really give up. We will
>have to work on her some more, very carefully. Tommy still can't visit
>yet, but I am still going to keep learning fighting at school.
>
> Sometimes you have to work very hard to pry open some people's brains
>so they can think a little when they really should, before their extra
>thick skulls snap shut again. Watch your fingers! They are not really
>stupid because they CAN think if they want to. I don't know if I will
>ever understand why some people don't want to think so much, they make
>themselves so stupid on purpose, they aren't smart enough to know they
>did it. Some of those people might be nice. Mother isn't.
>
>
>Your friend,
>
>Stephen
Dearest Grant,
An interesting story ... thought-provoking, but utterly preposterous.
Sincerely,
V
God Save the Queen.
God Bless the Prince of Wales.
God Preserve the Windsors.
Rule Britannia!
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