Hammer Has Different Take on Bullies

Used to be, back in the day, I really enjoyed Halloween. Us kids had a ball trick or treating in the neighborhood – getting a haul of candy in a pillowcase and feeling like we hit the mother lode! Some of it was home-made, popcorn balls, caramels wrapped in wax paper and the jackpot, apple slices with candy or caramel coating in plastic baggies. A lot of our costumes were home-made as well. Mom and I used to argue over cutting two eye holes in her sheets. Anyone wear old, holy jeans (this is way before it became a thing) with an old, dirty coat and a bandana tied on the end of a stick? Yup, I hated being a hobo too!

These days, with Halloween hitting store shelves in July (I wish I was making that up), by the time October rolls around I’m pretty much over it.

(Hate to say this, but they’re hurting Christmas by doing the same thing.)

I was contemplating all this – and other deep thoughts one peaceful Saturday morning in an empty, quiet office – pondering if I ought to try to write something about the over-commercialization of all the holidays when a sharp rap on my door almost gave me my second coronary!

There, bigger than a nightmare on Overwhelm Street stood John Hammer.

“Timmons, can you explain to me the big deal being made about bullies?” Hammer boomed, his voice sounding like it got drug over five miles of gravel roads.

“Well I can when I catch my breath, John,” I snapped. “How do you get in . . . I mean, the doors are locked and . . . you do know I already had one heart attack, right?”

Truth to tell, I hadn’t seen Hammer in a bit – maybe since spring. If you haven’t had the pleasure, John Hammer is getting long in the tooth. He is a giant of a man who has always put me in mind of Big John from the Jimmy Dean song (google it millennials!). But Hammer showing up in a dark office when the doors are locked always had me out of sorts. Never seems to phase him though.

He stood there, waiting on an answer.

“OK, John,” I tried. “I understand you see things a little differently than perhaps our friends on the left, but bullies? Seriously? You think bullies are good?”

“Of course not, Timmons,” Hammer shot back – sounding as if I had just said the dumbest thing since Butch told Sundance robbing trains in Bolivia would be a breeze. “Nobody likes a bully. But whether you think so or not, bullies served a purpose back when I was in school.”

I wasn’t surprised Hammer would say that. At his size, who was going to mess with him?

“Think about it Timmons, if a kid says they’re bullied these days, the whole school comes to a screeching halt. Teachers have to report it. Counselors are called in. There are procedures on top of procedures that go into effect. But back then, some kids would stand up to the bully. Maybe there’d be a fat lip or black eye, but everyone came out of it for the better.”

“Maybe,” I said. “But there were a whole lot of kids who got bullied who didn’t stand up.”

“Yeah,” Hammer said. “Other kids would often step in then.”

“Sorry John, I’m not buying this. I think you’re making it too simple, remembering things through a little bit of rose-colored glasses. I think we need to continue doing our best to outlaw bullying.”

“How’s that working out, Timmons?” Hammer retorted. “Try as we might, we are NOT stopping bullies. It still goes on. And now, instead of a kid learning to stand up for themselves, to not be a victim, we’re teaching them that they can’t handle it – that they don’t HAVE to handle it. We’re teaching them to raise their hand and let someone else fix everything. I tell you Timmons, we are creating a generation who don’t know how to do anything in bad situations except ask for help.”

I had to think about that for a second.

“Look, no situation is perfect,” he said. “We can’t create enough rules and procedures to handle everything. But at least the way it used to be, situations regarding bullies were more or less self-regulating. The school didn’t have to be involved and the kids – for the most part – took care of it themselves.”

“Yeah but what about the kids who didn’t?” I said.

“Are you not listening, Timmons? I just said no situation is perfect. There are no answers that fix everything. It ain’t a perfect world. But back in the day most kids learned that they had to stand up for themselves. They learned that once in a while the world isn’t fair and they learned they better figure it out. Did everybody? No. Does everybody now? No.”

He paused.

“But tell me this,” he said. “Kids understanding they had to handle some things on their own, isn’t that better than what we’re doing now?”

Hammer didn’t wait for an answer. He was heading back whichever way he had got in. I sat there lost in thought.

Two cents, which is about how much Timmons said his columns are worth, appears periodically in The Times. Timmons is the chief executive officer of Sagamore News Media, the company that owns The Noblesville Times. He is also a proud Noblesville High School graduate and can be contacted at ttimmons@thetimes24-7.com.