more kids

“more kids”

Kike – I remember the first time I heard the word

It stung more than I thought it would

The poison enriched by the chuckling and inevitable jeering of those around us at the lunch table

My “friends” joining in – having no choice other than siding with the bully

This, along with the pubescent weight gain, mixed with the laziness in the overprotective approach of my father, sprinkled with the distant judgment of my mother – kicked off a cycle of self deprecation not seen in humanity since the days of post holocaust

I learned quickly how to make badges

Little badges that turned into shields that deflected all arrows

The strongest and greatest of which, was my ability to put myself down to the lowest part under the earth and carry others with me on that journey

So that only one of the two outcomes would ensue – I would be pitied and thereby left alone; or they would respect my resolve in the face of such a violent internal storm and somehow fear me as a lunatic who loved to hate the self that he loved so much

Hey, big nose!

Hey Jew nose!

Do you get presents as CHanukkah and at Christmas?

Do Jews celebrate birthdays?

I wasn’t prepared for public school and these frequent inquisitions

I went to a private school for little Jewish boys and girls up until grade 5, and in grade 6, the kids hadn’t yet mastered the artistry of hate

I realized why my older brother had shot a boys’ kneecaps out when he was fourteen years old

I realized why my dad would pat his pocket, the one with the .22 caliber pistol in it

I wanted to act out and hurt them

Make their stomachs sick and make them embarrassed and afraid, and suffer like me in front of everyone at the lunch table

Hurt their mommies and daddies and little brothers and sisters

And their friends and their animals and their clothes and their room and their toys

I wanted to burn it all and make them watch and then eat the ashes and then stare at the decay until they were as sorry as they could be

But I lacked the courage to pull triggers and cut skin and tie boys naked to trees in the woods

So I pointed guns at myself and cocked the hammer until my finger became weary

Running blades across my skin, I cut deep and made wounds that created scars that would show forever

And exposing myself and holding myself prisoner, I let myself become devoured by the beasts in the woods and by the thick blackness of the night

Then I grew up and all of these dickheads wanted to be my friends on Facebook

Then everyone was trying to “catch up” and organize school reunions

I had a family now and I wasn’t a kike at the lunch table any more

Now I was a grown man with a wife and children and a job and money

And my muscles were strong enough now to fight anyone who tried

And I knew how to insult as well as or better than the rest – I could make words HURT

And I showed them because I never replied to their requests for friendship

And I never attended their reunions and gatherings

And I tell my daughter that when someone is mean to her at school, to make sure she tells the teacher and tells us so me or my wife can talk to that kids’ parents

And I forgot about my mother telling me the same things, and those words terrifying me and making me want to puke

But I think that I’m doing okay so far as a parent, and having the chance again to repeat school and dodge the ugly

And if I screw it up, I’ll have two more chances

And if those chances don’t work out as planned, then I guess we’ll just have to have some more kids