Paul's Heart

Life As A Dad, And A Survivor

Bullying Stops Now!!!


Matthew Bent‘s photo.

YESTERDAY, MY SON WAS BODYSLAMMED 3 TIMES BY A BULLY, THE SAME BULLY THAT HAS BEEN MAKING MY SON'S SCHOOL YEAR A NIGHTMARE, INCLUDING STEALING A NECKLACE I GAVE MY SON AS A SPECIAL GIFT FOR HIS FIRST YEAR OF LITTLE LEAGUE. LAST NIGHT, I CALLED THE COPS TO PUT A STOP TO THIS, AND WHEN THE COP CAME OVER, HE SAID THE SCHOOL POLICE OFFICER WOULD HANDLE THE CASE. WHEN I GOT A CALL TODAY FROM THE RVMS PSLO, HE TOLD ME THAT BECAUSE MY SON VOLUNTARILY WALKED INTO THE AREA THAT THE BULLY WAS, THAT IT WAS MY SON'S FAULT FOR GOING "INTO THE LIONS DEN" AND THERE WAS NOTHING HE WOULD DO ABOUT IT. WHEN I TOLD THE OFFICER THAT THIS BULLY HAD BEEN BULLYING MY SON ALL YEAR, HE SAID HE ONLY TAKES ONE ISSUE AT A TIME AND THE PAST WAS DONE, AND THE NECKLACE WAS THE BULLY'S BECAUSE THE BULLY WAS ABLE TO NAME A STORE WHERE THEY SELL THEM. THE KAUKAUNA AREA SCHOOLS IS PROTECTING BULLIES AND IGNORING THEIR VICTIMS! PLEASE SHARE AND SEND A MESSAGE TO EVERY SCHOOL DISTRICT THAT PROTECTING BULLIES AND DOING NOTHING ABOUT THEIR ACTIONS IS WRONG!! MY SON HAS BEEN BULLIED ALL SCHOOL YEAR BY THIS GROUP OF THUGS, AND NOT 1 TEACHER, ADMINISTRATOR, COUNCILLOR OR OFFICER WILL DO ANYTHING TO MAKE IT STOP, THEY ONLY OFFER EXCUSES AND BLAME THE VICTIMS!!! PLEASE HELP ME IN THE EFFORT TO STOP BULLYING!!!
YESTERDAY, MY SON WAS BODYSLAMMED 3 TIMES BY A BULLY, THE SAME BULLY THAT HAS BEEN MAKING MY SON’S SCHOOL YEAR A NIGHTMARE, INCLUDING STEALING A NECKLACE I GAVE… MY SON AS A SPECIAL GIFT FOR HIS FIRST YEAR OF LITTLE LEAGUE. LAST NIGHT, I CALLED THE COPS TO PUT A STOP TO THIS, AND WHEN THE COP CAME OVER, HE SAID THE SCHOOL POLICE OFFICER WOULD HANDLE THE CASE. WHEN I GOT A CALL TODAY FROM THE RVMS PSLO, HE TOLD ME THAT BECAUSE MY SON VOLUNTARILY WALKED INTO THE AREA THAT THE BULLY WAS, THAT IT WAS MY SON’S FAULT FOR GOING “INTO THE LIONS DEN” AND THERE WAS NOTHING HE WOULD DO ABOUT IT. WHEN I TOLD THE OFFICER THAT THIS BULLY HAD BEEN BULLYING MY SON ALL YEAR, HE SAID HE ONLY TAKES ONE ISSUE AT A TIME AND THE PAST WAS DONE, AND THE NECKLACE WAS THE BULLY’S BECAUSE THE BULLY WAS ABLE TO NAME A STORE WHERE THEY SELL THEM. THE KAUKAUNA AREA SCHOOLS IS PROTECTING BULLIES AND IGNORING THEIR VICTIMS! PLEASE SHARE AND SEND A MESSAGE TO EVERY SCHOOL DISTRICT THAT PROTECTING BULLIES AND DOING NOTHING ABOUT THEIR ACTIONS IS WRONG!! MY SON HAS BEEN BULLIED ALL SCHOOL YEAR BY THIS GROUP OF THUGS, AND NOT 1 TEACHER, ADMINISTRATOR, COUNCILLOR OR OFFICER WILL DO ANYTHING TO MAKE IT STOP, THEY ONLY OFFER EXCUSES AND BLAME THE VICTIMS!!! PLEASE HELP ME IN THE EFFORT TO STOP BULLYING!!!
This was a story that was being posted all over Facebook recently.  As if the incident itself was not shocking enough (the issue happened in a school near Wisconsin), but the reactions are just as bad, if not worse because it sends a horrible message to both victims and bullies.  To the victims the message is clear – “society does not care about us”.  I use the word “us” because from my Kindergarten years through eigth grade, I was a daily target of multiple assailants.  To the bullies, you have the ultimate unstoppable power.  No one is willing to do anything to stop you, because no one can.
A story more local to my area was about an elementary school student who died as a result of a playground fight.  While the school district bickers over semantics – was it a case of bullying as claimed, or was it just a school yard fight gone bad? – two parents were burying the child.  Parents are not supposed to bury their children.  School is the one place that a parent  has absolutely no control or protection of their child and therefore expect control and protection for their child from the teachers and other staff.
Our school district has a program that was implemented in all of its elementary schools and middle schools, meant to prevent bullying from even beginning.  It is a pro-active program that requires a daily commitment.  And the only way that the commitment happens, is by leadership.  But then in an effort to reduce budget expenses, they eliminate the coordinator position, claiming it was not meant to be permanent.
So now the program relies on an already overburdened overworked administrator with barely time enough to concentrate on security issues.  The school board’s position is that with all the schools trained, they can maintain the program themselves.
As far as I am concerned, this program was nothing more than to look good on paper.  And that is a shame because the program is good and it works.  But there needs to be an avenue for parents to follow when a school employee turns its back on a bullying incident.  Currently, it is a teacher or guidance counselor, and then the principal but then any effort is lost beyond that.  It should not have to go beyond the school because from there, so much can happen until there is any chance to resolve the bullying.
The parents should not be passed from administrator to administrator, then eventually the superintendent, and if it had a school board that cared.  Bottom line, the child who is being picked on is having his/her civil rights violated and they are not being allowed a harassment-free public education.  Call the police.  Currently, there are lawyers working for the schools and district who will do what they have to, to protect the school district, not the family of the victim.
This has to change.  And that is one thing I intend to address if I get elected to our school board.

The Easter Bunny?


I do not really do well with the holidays.  If it were not for my daughters and the childhood traditions that they look forward to each year, I would probably never know which holiday is being celebrated and if it has come and gone.  I am not proud of this, now does Wendy like it.  After twelve years, she still cannot understand the bell that tolls for me seemingly every time a holiday approaches.

I do not begrudge anyone celebrating the holidays either.  I have hoped for a long time, that I would stop feeling the way that I do about Christmas, Easter, Thanksgiving, and so on.  But each time ground is gained, it happens again, and again, and again.

I was diagnosed with my Hodgkin’s Disease, just days before Thanksgiving in 1988.  I am coming up on the five year anniversary of my emergency heart bypass surgery.  While married to my ex-wife, she was involved in a horrific head-on collision just after New Year’s Day.  There was a horrific time period between Christmas and New Year’s Day that three of my relatives passed away.  The list of sadness goes on with several more incidents, all around the major holidays.  I can get just so close to finally opening my heart and beliefs to receiving the holidays for the gifts that they can truly be, and then again, I am leveled.  I am literally petrified of approaching holidays, afraid of the doom and gloom that I believe without a doubt that is going to accompany it.

Just a couple of weeks ago, it has happened again.

My father was diagnosed with lung cancer.  I am encouraged at the staging of the disease that he has a good chance to beat it.  While I do not believe at all that holidays cause bad things to happen, I have grown tired of the coincidence of the timing, seemingly every time.  I know my father feels the same way.  More than a decade ago, my father’s life changed forever just days before Christmas.  Following an unresolved argument, my father went out to his car, started it, and looked for my stepmother who finally walked out of the house.  Both angry from the argument, the moment in time can never be taken back, nor, according to my father, can the guilt that he has lived with since that night, ever be resolved.  As my stepmother crossed the street, my dad watched her get hit by the car she did not see, fly through the air, severely injured.

For the same reason I still do, my father will celebrate the holidays, because he knows they are important to my daughters, his grandchildren.  There is an innocence that both of us will not take away from the girls whether it be Christmas  or Easter.  For at least the day, we forget all of the negative things that have happened in the past, and do our best not to wonder what will happen next.

My parents divorced nearly forty-five years ago and in stereotypical history, the common custodial issue of siding with one parent, the parent with the custody, I grew up with skewed feelings of my father (I am obviously putting this nicely).  Half way through my life, my father and I made amends.  And in recent years, he has asked only one thing.

My dad wanted to host a family dinner for Easter.  My dad has taken the back seat with every holiday during my childhood, and during adulthood, the holidays at best, were split between he, the rest of my family, and my in-laws (both sets).  But a few years ago, Wendy agreed with me, to let Easter be my father’s holiday.

He enjoys having my sister and stepbrother, all of the grandchildren and now great-grandchildren.  It is only for two or three hours, but it is the one time that he can truly enjoy a holiday.  Just as we have done with other years, following dinner, my stepbrother and I will go out, toss Easter eggs throughout my yard, which I just cleared out of “dog bombs” that had been revealed from the melted snow.

But once again, there is a specter hanging over this holiday.  It is weighing heavily on his mind.  I do not think he shares my confidence in the prognosis as last week, when discussing who would come visit tomorrow, he stated “I just want one more Easter with everyone.”

I am a cancer survivor.  Years ago, my dad revealed to me why he could not be more involved with me during my battle with cancer.  And it is something that I am going to keep within for the time being because I need him to concentrate on “now”, not then.  In a couple of weeks, I will return to the “public speaking circuit” to talk about my life as a cancer survivor.  It is my hope to reach as many survivors and inspire them with my longevity, that hopefully they too will see decades of future days with newer and better treatments being used today.  Never before has one of my speeches been so important for inspiration, as it is right now.

And my dad knows this.  He has me in his corner as an advocate.  I have heard the conversations with the doctors, and my knowledge and experience of cancers and treatments, I believe that he can beat this cancer.  But I respect his fear.  I have been there.  There are no guarantees and I know that.  But I also respect his wishes, that we get together today.

My daughters, one now ten years old, still both believe in the Easter Bunny (as well as Santa Claus and leperachauns – well at least our older daughter does not let on as if to protect her younger sibling).  Early in the morning, they will come downstairs looking for the basket of goodies that the Easter Bunny traditionally hides in our home (and has done so since I was a young boy).  We will have dinner, and then they will gather eggs scattered in our yard.  My dad will hear so much laughter.  And at least for a little while, my dad and I will forget what is looming.

Be Careful What You Ask For…


Sleep is over-rated.  At least, it would never be the same after March 12th, 2004.  I cannot even say that I got normal sleep that evening as Wendy and I were too excited.  The next day we were going to fly half-way around the world to adopt our oldest daughter, Madison.

The key factor in this equation is that the part of China we were travelling to was thirteen hours ahead of our time zone.  Wendy and I had travelled to Seattle a long time ago, and screwed up our sleep schedule that we laid down for a nap, and woke up sixteen hours later.  Our mistake was closing the drapes and making it completely dark.

We made the transition to Chinese time, immediately.  When we landed, we were informed that our schedule for actual adoption had been moved up.  We would fly to the capital city of Nanchang (Jiangxi Province) ten hours after we landed in Hong Kong.  Neither of us slept during the sixteen hour flight to China, and we were so keyed up, especially knowing in less than twelve hours, Madison would be in our arms.

Madison was nearly a year old when we adopted her, so she had already established a sleeping habit, and she definitely enjoyed her sleep.  With all the hustle and bustle that she had been thrown into, she still managed two and three hour naps, AND slept through the entire night.

We had received plenty of advice about our return home, and returning to our normal schedule and getting Madison adjusted.  We were fortunate.  There was no jetlag.  Madison continued her long siestas, and with her routine now returning to an inactive pace, to our wonderful surprise, Madison’s normal sleep length was anywhere from twelve to thirteen hours each night.  It did not matter where, a step, in the car, in the warmth of her own bed, she slept when she wanted it.

We cannot say the same with our younger daughter.  Emmalie has been with us over seven years, and she has NEVER slept through an entire night.  She did not like naps, and when she took them, it was never longer than a half hour.  Her nightly “naps” as we called them lasted three or four hours.  And she did not let us know through unhappy cries and screams.  Em would just flat out wake us up.  And if we would not stir, she would pull the old Tom & Jerry cartoon move, and actually lift up our eyelid to see if anyone was home.

Yes, on February 6th, 2006, we no longer had any opportunity to sleep throughout a night.  The chain of coherence began with Emmalie waking either myself, Wendy, or Madison.  Even the poor animals in the house were not safe from an arousing “WAKE UP DOGGIE!!!!”  No naps, waking up at six in the morning-ish, and if she had her way, she would stay up well past eleven in the evening.  Em wakes up first, then wakes up Madison.

Currently, on an average day, I do not mind the girls waking up early.  I get them ready for school while I get ready to go to work.  By the time that they wake up, I have enough time to spend a few moments with them.  I appreciate that.  But since days off from work, and other interests are rare, I make no secret.  I WANT TO SLEEP IN which translates to “I would like to sleep at least until seven in the morning.”  An impossible task.

Which makes what happened recently more than ironic, quite comedic in fact.  As an employee, I have a reputation for being on time, always.  No matter the weather, no matter of my physical well-being, in spite of efforts by Wendy, I have always been on time.

But a couple of weeks ago, Thursday morning to be exact, the girls woke up to a special treat, something to offer them hope.  All Winter long, we have not received any decent amount of white precipitation.  In fact, the girls would get the chance to peek outside, catch a few snowflakes on their tongues, then get off to bed hoping that even without a delay in the opening of school, they would get to partake in some chilly activities, at the least, making a snow angel.  Cruelly, the snow has not been enough and melted by the time they have gotten home from school.

But whereas any other morning that I have gone to work, they either wake up on their own or I need to jostle them.  On my days off from work, they can be relied on to rile me out of bed around six in the morning.  But on this particular Thursday, as if convinced the snow now covering the ground will not only prevent them from going to school, may also prevent me from getting to work.  Or so I thought.

I woke up at 7:12am.  My travel alarm clock set for 5:20am.  The first alarm on my cell phone set for 5:50am and the second set for 6:10am.  My clock has an annoying chirp to it, clearly loud enough to wake the entire house.  My cell phone alarm is the ring tone from Ozzy Osbourne’s Crazy Train”.  There is no doubt that by the second alarm, and Wendy has fallen from the ceiling of the bedroom, I would be clearly on my way to beginning my day.

Not on this day.  The first alarm had been turned off, as was the first alarm of my cell phone.  I never heard the second alarm go off because I had rolled over onto it, my belly muffling the laughing and terrifying scream “All aboard, ah ha ha ha ha ha ha, aye aye aye aye , duh duh duh duh, duh duh… and the ringtone went on, repeatedly.

At 7:12am, my eyes opened, and I look over at another clock in the bedroom.  SON OF B$&%%$!!!tch!  I am late for work.  I am supposed to punch in at 7:10, 7:20 at the latest.  I quickly throw on some clothes and clear most of my steps to the downstairs.  Fortunately, I have hair care and teeth hygiene products at work.  I race into the kitchen to grab my car keys from the counter.

Over the kitchen counter, I can see the tops of the heads of my two darling daughters who are deeply entrenched in one of their early morning Disney channel shows.  But not to wrapped up in the entertainment to inform me… “Daddy, you’re late for work.”

Later that evening, as I explained to them the importance that if they should notice that I am not awake by the time they get up from bed and I need them to wake me.  Perhaps I should have been more clear, on days that I need to go into work.  In their defense, “but Daddy, you always tell us to let you sleep.”  Day of all days, I got what I asked for.

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