I came this close yesterday to going off on a stranger. I mean ballistic, crazy woman, mama bear, whacky lady going off. I am calm now so I will refer to him as Baldy but yesterday at my children’s cross country meet, I had a whole other name for him.
The cross country meet is for grades K-8, with the kids running by grade and gender.
In the last stretch of the second grade boys’ race I noticed a boy limping along the side of the race barrier, a low fence, with two men talking to him, coaxing him to the finish.
One of the men, maybe the father, Fat Fuck, oh I mean Baldy, shouts out to the boy, You don’t have to cry.
I wanted to jump the barrier, cross the race course and speak my mind.
You don’t have to cry, was his wisdom for the moment to a limping boy who was holding his knee probably humiliated by not finishing, upset by falling, embarrassed by Fat fuck, oh I mean Baldy.
What are we teaching our boys if we are telling them it is not okay to cry when you fall and get hurt? What happens when someone he loves dies or the first girl breaks his heart?
We forget tears are natural and when they are stuffed inside they fester. Tears do not equal weakness, instead they equate to being human. No one likes to cry in front of others but sometimes we don’t have a choice.
I am glad I didn’t hop the fence and make a scene but if I see Baldy speak that way again, he’s gonna be cryin’ home to his mama, that’s for sure.
by J.G. McGlothern