So Not Cool

Most of my friends thought my first bicycle was atrociously ugly because it was turquoise. They didn't even notice the awesome multicolored streamer thingies in the ends of the handlebars, nor did they pay any attention to its gleaming white banana seat. Nope ... my friends didn't care that my bike had awesome reflectors, a rear-view mirror or a shiny bell. All they saw when they looked at my bike was that it was turquoise, and they thought turquoise was a disgusting color. Those kids teased me mercilessly about my bike the entire time I had it, so much so that I begged and pleaded and cried and pouted until my dad bought me a new red bike. Why red? Because all the cool kids at school rode red bicycles, and I really, really, really wanted to be one of the cool kids. I found out in a hurry, however, that not even an awesome red bike could make me fit in or be accepted by the cool kids.

A couple of weekends ago, Ollie and I were out for an afternoon walk when I noticed a group of girls sitting near the small playground just to the side of the trail. They looked to be about 12 or 13 years old, all wearing jeans, hoodies and sneakers. Had it not been for me accidentally overhearing what the girls were saying, I would have strolled past them and continued along on my walk. But I did overhear what the girls were saying ... I overheard, and I stopped dead in my tracks as I listened.

"She's not like us ... did you see what she was wearing today?"

"I can't believe she actually thinks she's cute."

"I heard her telling the loser bangers she's coming to the party on Saturday."

"That bitch be trippin' if she think she comin' to the party. Hell, no, she not."

"She's too stupid to even know why we hate her." 

And the comment that pushed me over the edge?

"Yeah ... she's so gay."

That's the comment that made me gather Ollie up into my arms and walk over to where the girls were sitting. That's the comment that made me tell those little girls that what they were saying about the other girl was hurtful and rude and just plain old mean. That's the comment that made me tell those little girls that someday they would feel deeply sorry for the way they were treating the other girl. That's the comment that made me lecture those little girls about kindness and respect and acceptance and integrity. That's the comment that made my eyes fill with tears as I said, "Don't do it, girls ... don't treat her or anyone else that way just because they're different from you. You think you're being cool but you're really just being mean and hateful. How would you feel if the other kids hated you? How would you feel if you went to school tomorrow and found out she had killed herself? How would you feel then?"

The girls just sat and looked at me, and not one of them said a word. I'm sure they were just hoping the old psycho lady wasn't going to haul them off like Hansel and Gretel and try to bake them in my oven ... what a horrific fairy tale, by the way, I can't believe I actually read that story to my children when they were young. I turned to leave the group of girls, and as I did, I felt somewhat vindicated in my righteous anger and I told myself that one day those little girls would grow up and remember the crazy lady with the wiener dog in her arms ... that one day they would remember that short encounter near the trail when the gray-haired lady with the cute dog schooled them on the dangers of hate and the benefits of compassion.

Ollie and I walked for a long time that day ... we walked much longer than we normally walk ... a long, silent walk as a million thoughts filled my mind. As we turned onto our street, I said, "Well, buddy ... that's one of the more interesting walks we've had in a while." I've thought a ton about that little encounter and of the things I said to the girls, but I've also thought a lot about how so many adults are guilty of doing the very same thing those little girls were doing. The adult version of the scenario with the little girls can be so mean ... so hateful ... so wrong. I can't stress to all of you enough how important it is that we love, honor and respect one another. If you never remember anything else I've written or spoken, please remember this ... only love can change a person's heart, friends ... only love can change a person from the inside out.

Oh, and by the way ... I loved my turquoise bike ... you bet I did ... I loved that old turquoise bike a ton ... I surely, surely did. Until my friends told me I shouldn't ... until my friends told me it was ugly ... until my friends told me it was bad. Think about that ... for ... a ... very ... long ... time, friends ... a very, very, very long time indeed.