An Account of Two Assaults
As a child I was thought to be ‘gentle and mild’. Although this was not always the case, it happened that there was a friend of mine, Earl, who also was thought of in this manner. As it turned out , the older brother of yet another friend thought it might be interesting if we two gentle boys fought. I was sufficiently susceptible to peer pressure then to agree to his proposal that I pick a fight with my friend after school. It is amazing how l ittle I would stick to my principles (if I actually had any then). So after school, in a shameful attempt to be one of the ‘guys’, I approached this fr iend and slapped him. Immediately I realized I had nothing against this boy and no interest in fighting him; so, regretting that I had begun, I turned to the crowd and said to them. “ I have no stomach for this.” Surprisingly, instead of regretting that I didn’t shine in the ‘big boys’ eyes; I now shone a l ittle
brighter in my own; and these role models appeared in a much dimmer l ight and their type has remained so for me since. Today, Earl is one of my very best friends. The only other time I submitted to peer pressure in a serious way was the night a joint was produced in our rooming house in my second year university and, lacking the courage to say ‘no’ I began a two year romance with ‘grass’. (It was only when I realized that it was causing me to be more anxious and withdrawn in my pre-existing mental i l lness, that I made the firm and final decision to refrain.) This event of fighting was actually in high school. Earlier in my childhood, I was bothered by a bully who came to be such a problem that I took the issue to my father , mother and brother. They, to my consternation, fi rmly held that I would have to stand up to this boy who, as I later learned, was being severely and regularly beaten by his father. As I recall, it was sometime later (perhaps after few years) when I was just about to enter puberty, that the necessity to obey my parents in this plan
arose unexpectedly one day as I was walking to the r ink, as I did every day after school all winter. As I was taking the steep narrow road between my friend Ian’ s home and this boy’s home to descend to the r ink on the bottom of town, this boy, obviously in a high state of agitation, announced that I was not to pass and held a long sharp knife to my face. As I now recall, I saw then that this situation was very unstable. But, as my father and brother had assured me, standing up to a ’bully’ would surely make them crumble. This they had treated as a certainty no less obvious then the axioms of Euclidean Geometry. So, as I has previously resolved I would when the time arose, and I knew it would - I determined not to fight, as I was totally incompetent in this field. But I had also determined to assess the circumstance of the moment when it arose, and take decisive, appropriate, and victorious action. So I proceeded to do the forbidden act and to pass unhindered and continue on my way to the r ink where, as Ian told me only this past week , when I
was discussing it with him; I did my usual ‘social thing’ as though nothing had happened. I needed Ian to tell me this, because whenever I had told the story in the past I was unable to say what had happened, as I did not remember what I did to resolve this very dangerous situation for a young child. And, amazingly, I had totally forgotten until last week when Ian told me, that he and I were in fact walk ing together. As Ian told me, we both, without speaking, walked past this boy . Then he came behind Ian, and held the knife to his throat. Ian swung his arm up to and around his own chest at his neck. “What are you carrying when you go to a r ink?” he asked those present last week. Then he told of how the skates in his hand had plunged through this boys cheek, putting out two teeth, and sending him to the ground. He remarked that I made no mention of the incident then; and in fact I didn’t mention it all through my childhood and youth. Shelley, at New Hope, told me these are exactly the signs of Post
Traumatic Stress. Ever after in the course of my l ife I have handled treats of violence very effectively in this manner. Later I met this boy, as a grown man with a criminal record, and had an amicable conversation with him. And I have, ever after this event, had compassion for the degree of desperation of his childhood. Sadly, he later received a fatal stabling from a ‘shive’ in penitentiary. The karmic conclusion which could be drawn here, gives me no satisfaction. ~ Kokyo David Young August 24, 2009