Letter 170
How to Identify a Bully
Bullies are easy to identify. They call you names in an attempt to bully you into submitting to them. When I was a kid they said things like: “You’re ugly,” “You’re fat,” “You’re stupid,” etc.
Now those same bullies have grown up so the tactic remains the same but their accusations have changed to: “You’re homophobic,” You’re Islamaphobic,” “You’re a racist,” “you’re a Nazi.” and so on.
The names have changed but the spirit is the same. If you buckle under to their name-calling, you’re a coward in any decade.
Fight On!
When the great San Francisco earthquake struck at 5:13 AM on April 18,1906, the devastation was horrendous. On Washington Street a wall of a buildings collapsed and sent bricks and rubble crashing right through an adjoining building. The rubble smashed right into the room occupied by Gimpy Bill, trapping him beneath the debris. Bill had no legs. His only mode of mobility was a small wheeled platform that he would strap himself to. His source of propulsion was his arms.
Digging himself out from under the rubble, Bill strapped himself onto his cart and dragged himself over to his door only to find it wedged closed. His calls for help went unheard in the now empty building. As his building swayed beneath him, Bill dragged himself to the window, tied blankets together and hastily lowered himself to the still quaking street below. The crowds fleeing through the streets offered Bill no help as they sought to save themselves.
Laboriously, Bill made his way through the rubble strewn street to a man loading a wagon with refugees and begged to be taken aboard. For whatever reason he couldn’t take Bill on board. Not knowing what to do next, Bill saw a rope dangling from the tailboard of the wagon. As the wagon took off at a gallop Bill grabbed the rope and held on for the ride of his life. Like the world’s first skate boarder, Bill careened around corners and bounced over rubble as the wagon shot through the streets hoping to find safe harbor. Suddenly the wagon’s axle broke and it screeched to a halt. As Bill released his “death-grip” on the rope, he was greeted by a new terror. Overturned wood stoves had set the city ablaze. What could he do as he watched the flames approaching?
Just then a young boy passed by. For a dime would he pull Bill to the safety of a nearby hilltop? For a dime? Sure! The lad dutifully tugged his burden to the hilltop, collected his wages and departed. From the hilltop Bill rowed himself to a nearby grocery store and asked the owner for refuge. All the man could offer was a small corner in his barn out in back. Bill dragged himself to the barn and slept the night away, safe at last.
But he wasn’t safe. He awoke the next morning to find the hill ablaze and red-hot embers raining down on his refuge. Once again he strapped himself to his platform, pushed himself out into the streets filled with fleeing citizens and wondered what he was to do now. One thing he was sure he would not do was to give up. With no outside help and fresh out of dimes, he began to paw his way down the rubble strewn streets to hoped for safety. Whatever that was.
How long did Bill drag himself along the streets watching two-legged people running past him leaving him behind as the flames of the city pursued him faster than his tired arms could propel him? The flame caught him. The heat seared him as he undauntedly continued his flight. Then suddenly a car puttered up the street, pulled beside the valiant cripple and stopped. A soldier jumped out and announced, “Better come with me.” He deposited Bill in the car and whisked him to final safety in Golden Gate Park. On his own he had labored 14 miles before encountering is rescuer. Fight on!
Ointment and perfume rejoice the heart: so doth the sweetness of a man’s friend by hearty counsel.
Proverbs 27:9