We’re All Human Beans; Let’s Find Common Grounds

Sometimes I think a blogger has to be vulnerable with their community in order for important messages to resonate.  That’s why today’s “Relationships” post includes a personal story.  Two of them.

When I was bullied

I grew up in a fairly rural community surrounded by independent and small farms.  I can always recall the year of any grade level during my youth because I was in kindergarten (grade “zero”) in 1970.  Life was fairly stable and slow-paced during my early childhood.  The definitions of the community I knew as a youngster were changed, however, when the social breezes turned into troubled storms.

Desegregation busing was in full swing by 1974 and my hometown was close enough to Oklahoma’s largest metropolitan school districts to become a haven for what has become known over the years as white flight. I can’t blame any family or individual for how they reacted to change.  People are scared of what they don’t know.  I can say, however, that I was affected by the change in our own community.  There was an influx of “city kids” into our country town, and with that change in our landscape came some challenges for both populations.

I experienced new emotions, unfamiliar to me until that time period in my life.  I was met with students who were socialized differently, whose wardrobes were by and large purchased from department stores, and whose houses were larger with more amenities than the previous norm.  I’m sure the incoming students were met with challenges as well.  They had moved into a new town with new rules; it must have been difficult for them.  I know it was for me.

I frequently became the recipient of comments about my hand-me-downs, about my hair cut, and about the way I talked.  New “street smart” lingo was wielded like weaponry in the halls and my wounds got deeper as the weeks passed.  In hind sight, I can now see that much of the behavior I encountered was a form of bullying.  Unfortunately, my response to this was to become a bully.  I’ll never forget one day on our playground in either the sixth or seventh grade.  I had worked hard to gain the acceptance of some of the newer kids and seemed to finally be making some headway.

When I became a bully

Standing with the group, their attention turned toward a weaker individual in our class.  She was socially less skilled and struggled with grades.  The group began taunting her and I joined in.  I was now the bully, not the one being bullied.  At some point she began shouting back, and in an attempt to protect my new status as a cooler kid, I stepped toward her and pushed her backwards.  I must have pushed pretty hard because she fell to the ground.  What’s worse, she tried to get up once and I pushed her backwards again.  She stayed put the second time.  Those who I stood with began to laugh at her and call her names.  My face flushed…this girl was a “country kid” and I had just hurt one of my own.

Over twenty years later I tracked her down and apologized for that day.  The guilt from my physical aggression weighed heavily on me and I needed to make amends.  Interestingly, she didn’t even remember that day or what happened.  So, the act of reconciliation was basically for my own healing I suppose.  I’m sharing this illustration with you because “bullying” seems to be in the air on the national news, we continue to have bullying problems and Safe Schools programming challenges here in Oklahoma, and bullying is a social problem that happens across races, cultures, social classes…and even within our family trees.

As I watched a few of the “It Gets Bettervideos this past week, I was reminded that human beings respond to their own pain many times by taking it out on others.  The thing is, though, those they take it out on are human beings too.  They were born, they have some form of a family most of the time, and…they have feelings and hopes and dreams.  Just like you.  Just like me.

So today my message for you is this:  Whether you are being bullied or are the bully, try to step back, take a fresh look, and find common ground if possible.  If you can’t stop hurting people, there is help.  We’ll help you find some at the RDC if you don’t know where to look.  If you are scared and hurting because people can’t stop hurting you – same thing.  Everyone is valuable and you’re no exception.

We’re “human beans”…so let’s find some “common grounds.”

I’m going to get a cup of coffee now…Ciao.

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Meanwhile, Back At The Ranch: Playin’ With Fire

Do you remember being intrigued by ants as a kid?  They were usually associated with summer, picnics, ant farms, and that red and white checkered tablecloth.  For me…not anymore. The intrigue is gone.

I love Saturdays.  I took advantage of my husband’s solo trip to the lumber yard to give my dusty horses a much needed bath. Completing the task and holding the lead rope of the last horse in one hand, I stepped over the to the water faucet to roll up the water hose with the other hand.  Within seconds I felt something…like tall blades of grass at my ankles.  Weird.  I’m not even standing in tall grass. A quick glance at my shoes revealed the unexpected….hundreds, maybe thousands, of tiny little red fire ants had swarmed onto my tennis shoes.

 

The Enemy

 

Fire ants. They have been in the U.S. since the 1930’s, coming to us via ships from Brazil.  They build nests near water and have been known to take down small animals.  This ain’t no picnic ant, people.  These guys are tiny and if you see one, you may think it to be harmless.  Don’t look away.  Within seconds the rest of the army will join the attack.  And the sting?  That’s where the ant gets its name.  You feel like you’re on fire. You’re safer holding a lighted match near a pile of dry wood drenched in gasoline than standing on a fire ant bed.

Jumping up and down didn’t shake them.  I was still holding onto a horse, so I had to use my only free hand to wrangle the end of the water hose back into reach.  I sprayed my feet which removed most of them.  I swatted the tenacious ones crawling on up my legs and got the horse safely back to the pasture.  Then I ran like I had never run before to the pool and jumped in up to my knees.  I could not believe the pain.

Fire ants had tried to ruin my Saturday.  Instead, they ruined my Sunday.  I woke up with what looked like Poison Ivy on my hands and ankles.  Oh yeah.  It itched like Poison Ivy too.

***Sign on for more “Back at the Ranch” soon.  Julie mentions she’s got quite a few entries on the back burner.  Oops…I wrote “burner!” – Red Dirt Kelly

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Meanwhile, Back at the Ranch: OKtober

We have a little gem of a bakery out here in the country.  Backerman’s Bakery and Cheese Shoppe is a small Mennonite Bakery owned and run by a local Mennonite family.  The bakery is a fairly popular stop on Highway 64 and is one of the ways I get my friends to come visit me…I promise to take them to the bakery for a fried pie.

A brief amount of research on Mennonites in Oklahoma revealed that this group played a role in the Land Run of 1889.  They were key to helping Oklahoma become a major wheat-producing state.  Currently there are three Mennonite churches in the tiny town of Corn (formerly Korn) which only has about 591 residents.  Corn is located on the western prairie range, about twenty miles or so south of Weatherford.

Our local Mennonite community raises funds the first weekend in October in order to support their Mennonite school.   The Mennonite Oktoberfest celebrates German heritage treats (without the beer) and the goodness of community.  Of course, anytime I see an “O” and a “K” together, I think of Oklahoma; nothing screams “goodness of community” like my home state.Mennonite Girl

See more pictures from the most recent Oktoberfest, 2010.

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Silent Sundays: 10/10/10

 

Seeing an opportunity to influence change, "Sassy" posted photos of delapidated properties and eyesore lots on the Sayre, OK city newspaper website. I wonder if "Sassy" will get some municipal clean-up action in his/her town now? Click photo to visit website and see a few other shots of areas needing attention.

 

 

Grief, loss...and community: In a powerful demonstration of support and faith, friends and family of Leslie Joy Evans pray outside her hospital. Leslie was a friend of local college grads and many in the Norman/OKC metro area. She and her premature twin babies died during a difficult pregnancy challenge. You can visit the memorial site and blog her family created by clicking this photo. May peace and comfort find her husband and extended family.

 

 

Rylee Roberts, a contributing photographer for the RDC, dines at Ludivine Restaurant in Mid-Town OKC on 10/9/10. The establishment opened this week after much planning and preparation, and features a rotating menu of available foods most all from local growers and producers. A "full color" review of the new restaurant coming later this week. Click photo to visit their website.

 

 

Conked out. Mid-semester is always rough and this one is no exception. A student takes a study break and naps in the Edmon Low Library on the OSU campus in Stillwater, 10/6/10.

 

 

Pink boots. The nation "thinks pink" this month, as Breast Cancer Awareness Week takes place. RDC Homestead and Garden author, Julie Allgyer, made sure those around her were thinking pink as well. Click photo for more information about Breast Cancer Awareness Month.

 

 

Sometimes Red Dirt Kelly turns into driveways with "Estate Sale" signs posted by the road. She usually doesn't buy anything, but she frequently takes photos of cool old treasures. Here's a Maytag Washer that was for sale, listed at $200. "But (they'd) take $50 for it..."

 

 

 

I wonder if Suzy Welch is reading her book today? If I were her, I'd do SOMETHING to commemorate the volume. This edition was the only random thing I could find named for today's date...a perfect "10."

 

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Showcasing Red Dirt culture ~ authored and managed by contributors with connections to the great state of Oklahoma.