Jim really thought that family always came first. Jim knew precisely what he had to do when his cherished grandson Oliver returned home looking like he had been dragged across a mud pool by bullies twice his age. Those punks wouldn’t get away with invading his household. Not yet today.
I go by Jim for my name. Many around here refer to me as “Ole Jim.” 72 and counting, I developed a harsh voice and a beard so white and thick it could frighten the devil herself. Let me now ask you, should someone harass your grandchild, what would you do? Not any child, but the one you brought up like your own, the one you love more than life itself?
I had to go all Papa Bear on three adolescent punks just the other day after Oliver, my grandson, returned home looking dishelled. Muddy clothes, tear-streaked cheeks, he seemed like a drowned cat.
” What happened, Ollie?” Try to keep your voice steady, I asked. He simply shook his head, more tears pouring forth.
Coming running over was my wife Matilda, who teaches stitching at the neighborhood women’s club. Though she is the peace in our storm, seeing our kid like that shook her. “Ollie, sweetheart, tell us what happened”.
He only kept shaking his head. My son never looked like this. My heart was, folks, broken bits.
“Grandpa, I desire no more to be at school. Please don’t make me go,” Ollie said.
I tightened my jaw, trying to control my anxiety and resentment. Someone mistreated my grandchild; there would not be any sugar-coating this.
“Spill it, son,” I said, low and gravel-like. “We ain’t going anywhere till you tell us what these tears are all about.”
Though it took some time, we at last pulled it out of him. As it happens, other guys began picking on him in the parking lot on his way home.
Ollie walks since our house is only one quarter mile from the school. Under the direction of some young lad called Simon, these lads pushed him into a muddy pothole and called him names like “sissy” and “crybaby.”
As Ollie talked of being afraid to leave the house once more, my hands began to quiver and my guts tightened.
Grandpa shoved me, Ollie gasped out, his voice breaking like a twig.
Tears gathered in his eyes and flowed across like rain on a window pane. Little fists tightened at his sides, white-knuckled with a tremble in my own hands reflected in them.
“They laughed at me,” he whispered, a sob rising in his throat, “saying I couldn’t even stand straight. I started to stand, but they continued dragging me down.”
His statements felt to me like a gut punch. ” What else did they say, champ?” I queried.
Ollie sniffed, dabbing his nose on his sleeve. “They claimed my mother and father fled since they couldn stand me. Called me an ugly weasel too.
I inhaled deeply and tried to control my wrath. With large worried eyes, Matilda rested a palm on my arm. “Jim, cool off,” she said softly. “We have to treat this carefully.”
“Caringfully??” My teeth gritted as I murmured. ” ain’t nothing careful about bullying.”
Ollie raised those large, tear-filled eyes to me. “Please, grandpa. Go not after them. I want things not to get worse.”
Trying to give him a reassuring smile, I combed his hair. “Don’t panic, son. Grandfather has this.
Though he seemed doubtful, he nodded. Alright, Grandpa.
My ancient bones squeaking, I got up and reached for my coat. Worry on her face, Matilda followed me to the door. “Jim, please. Not act rashly.
I planted a quick kiss on her forehead. “I’ll not, Matilda. Just need to converse with those lads a bit.”
As I headed to the parking lot—the same place where my small kid was teased and injured—Ollie’s comments kept coming back to me. “They called me sissy, Grandpa. I was said to be weak.”
My blood was boiling. I understood just the kind of course of instruction these entitled guys required. Nobody meddles in my family. None of them.
I was in that parking lot twenty minutes later.
Though vacant right now, I knew they would return. Teenagers who believe they are unbeatable constantly hang about where they shouldn’t be.
Watching the parking lot, I leaned against a tree. Not long after, Simon and his group were visible—all chuckling at something on their cell phones.
I grabbed my phone and gave Billy, my old friend still employed in the police department a call.
“Billy, you are needed to visit the school’s parking lot. And observe from a distance; avoid making yourself known just yet,” I urged, my voice quiet and calm.
“What else is going on, Jim?” Billy inquired, worry teping into his voice.
“I might get injured. But that’s part of the strategy, mate,” I said, then hung up.
Ten minutes later I watched Billy’s cruiser pull up a block distant. He nodded from his car, and I tucked my phone under ready to start my plan.
Clearing my throat to grab the boys’ attention, I went over to them. “Hey guys, Time is what?
Simon looked up, a sneer developing on his mouth. “For what reason? Old man, you knew where to be. Maybe the grave?
The lads chuckled, and my resentment started to bubble up. I had to play this right though. “Just wondering. You don’t have to be nasty,” I said.
Simon moved nearer, his gaze narrowing. “You know, old man, wandering about by yourself is risky. One could acquire the incorrect concept.”
I backed up a step and feigned anxiety. “No need to act like that, son. Simply avoid laughing at me.
The boys’ laughs got louder. One of them murmured, “What a loser!”
Simon’s eyes glowed with hate. “Perhaps you should get some instruction on respect.”
He shoved me and I staggered into the same muddy pool they had driven Ollie into. The lads screamed with amusement, but I saw Billy hiding behind his cruiser, straying from his bike.
I pulled myself, muck slung down my coat and squelching underfoot.
Think this is hilarious, do ya? My voice came out like thunder. “Well, let me say what I think. Your small performance occurs entirely on camera over the adjacent mall. And my officer friend here happened to catch the entire program.
The boys stopped, their faces white. Simon’s ego dropped down. “What?” Nothing at all.”
I pointed to Billy, who emerged from behind a tree with his badge shining in the afternoon light. Alright. And witnessing this footage will make your parents very happy. Lads, you are in serious trouble.
Billy crossed across, his voice austere. “Every face you have is captured. One cannot run away or hide.
The lads began shaking; Simon’s eyes became wide with terror. “Please, sir; we didn’t mean it. We really apologies.
With the back of my palm, I scraped muck from my face leaving a brown smudge.
“Do you punks get away clean and bully my grandson? What kind of warped enjoyment is that, messing about with a child unable of resisting? You now taste it yourself, crying for kindness. Sounds like Karma’s a true gun son, ain’t it?”
Though I hadn’t started yet, the lads were startled.
“Follow me,” I said, and they followed, heads low. As we walked to my house, I yelled, “Ollie! Come see me, son.
Oliver peeped out from behind the door, terror flickering in his eyes. He raced back inside and hid under a stack of pillows on the couch when he noticed the lads.
I followed him squatting next to his hiding place. “Sonny, you’re free from concern about them now. Grandpa took care of things.
Ollie stared up at me, wide-open eyes. “really, Grandpa? Not hurting me again?”
“Not ever again,” I said, nodding reassuringly for him. We strolled back outside together, where the lads were waiting looking guilty.
Their voices wobbly, they started apologizing right away one after another. “We’re sorry, Oliver. We never would bully you once more. We swear.”
Ollie fixed me and nodded. “It’s fine, Ollie.” They imply.
Drawing a long breath, he continued, “I forgive you.”
Simon’s shoulder was under my touch. “You lads will arrive here the same day every week going forward. Show me your marks and go to some sporting events. Recognize?”
They nodded and chorused, “We promise.”
Apologizing once more to Ollie as they went, I felt weight off my shoulders. Ollie never came home afraid or teary-eyed that day on. Rather, he was delighted and enthusiastic.
Weeks went by while I observed Ollie befriending the lads. Simon and his buddies arrived every week to show me their better marks and to engage in some sports. Their transformation was rather astounding.
One afternoon, I watched from behind as Ollie kicked soccer in the yard alongside Simon and his crew. I grinned. Turning to Matilda, who was observing from the porch, “Guess I still got it, huh?” .
She giggled gently. Jim, you really do. You truly do.
Feeling pride, I turned back to the lads. “Who will?” asks one if we are not standing for our loved ones. I whispered to myself. “Sometimes it takes a little tough love to straighten things out.”
And that’s how we befriended former bullies. Share your narrative of standing up for your loved ones if one exists. Who may possibly need to hear it is unknown.