I was one of those kids who was bullied in high school— not so much actively humiliated but mostly ignored. With one exception, and that was a person I will call Jeff.
Jeff whispered nasty things to me under his breath in art class. We lived near each other and he said nasty things at the bus stop. He sneered at me and called me nose picker and Lizzie Borden.
Finally, one day we were both walking to the bus stop and he threw a big tree branch at me, and I realized it was time to go to my parents, who were divorced.
First you have to know something about my dad. His fits of anger when he feels that he's being cheated are legendary. When he's mad, he's MAD (but not at us). I'm not condoning his actions. I'm simply prepping you for the next part of the story.
He once got lost on the tollway and went back and forth paying toll after toll and getting more and more agitated as we all do when we're lost. Finally he got more directions and explained to the next toll taker he had already paid the toll many times, but the guy didn't care. Dad ended up screaming and throwing the change at the tolltaker.
Another time, we went out on a rented boat that turned out not to work. Same thing. The guy who rented us the boat refuse to refuse our money and again my dad threw a bunch of change at him, most ending up on the ground.
Back to the present. I was ashamed of the bullying because I figured it was justified and there was something wrong with me. But one day my dad was visiting and I mumbled that this guy Jeff, who lived near us, was bullying me, and I described what he had done.
Up until then, my dad had been very preoccupied with the divorce and moving and his new life. So I was unprepared for what happened.
When he heard what Jeff had done, he got livid. He wanted to call Jeff's mother, but the number was unlisted. My dad said words which are forever etched in my memory “Well, he doesn’t have an unlisted house.”
He thunders in the direction of Jeff’s house and I meekly follow. Then we were in the middle of Jeff's living room with his mom, my dad in full red-faced mode brusquely telling her what her son had done.
She called, “JEFF COME INTO THE LIVING ROOM. Of course he had heard the whole conversation. He meekly slithered his way in, knowing what he was in for.
“Is this TRUE????” his mom asks.
Big old bully Jeff, who was really a scrawny kid, meekly nodded his head up and down. He looked like he was about to burst into tears. He didn't say a word the whole time.
The obvious double-teaming ensued, and I don't remember what was said (I was 16), but believe me, I don't think it's something Jeff will ever forget.
As I stood there and watched the show, my feeling was not vengeful. Instead, I had this overwhelming feeling of love for my dad.
You see, he had not paid that much attention to me in a very long time. The divorce had taken him away and he was busy with his new life. I had no idea that he cared that much to do this. It was, in his own way, a sign that he still loved and cared for me.
Jeff never even glanced my way again. Ever.
This was the day my dad stood up for me. And Jeff got what he deserved. It is one of the fondest memories that I have of my dad, nothing but unselfish love, and it has sustained me for a long time.