I remember reading this statement on a bumper sticker once and I agreed with it, however, I knew I still had a mean streak in me and I'd be a hypocrite if I bought it and put it on my car.
Mean People Suck
Don't it make you wonder where those "mean streaks" come from? Do we keep the meanies under the rug and never let them know we know who they are?
I remember when I was little, very little, about 6 to 8 years old, we lived in a trailer court in the middle of Salt Lake City. I mean "in the middle" of the city. The trailers were mostly single wide, there was no grass or playground to play on. Only a smidgen of what would be called a "back yard" and it was really a "side yard", which consisted of gravel and an old truck or something in it taking up most of the room to play. Each trailer was only a few feet away from each other which basically solidified the fact that no one else had a yard. We played in the car wash at the end of the street. It had a roller to squeeze the water out of the rags and we'd put paper cups filled with water and squeeze them until the water shot out the other end of the cup. What fun!!! Another thing we did was run through the Ramada Inn just down the street. I remember looking at the huge swimming pool with the greatest desire to hop the fence and take a dip. Instead, we'd just go in and play around in the Inn. It was huge!! Anyway, I say this to illustrate our immense boredom.
One day Lori and I went over to the neighbors house. They had chicken wire fence so it didn't stand too high off the ground and their little girl was in the yard. She must have been about one or two years old. Lori and I would push her over through the fence, and she'd cry and pick herself back up. We'd make like it was sad that she was crying for no apparent reason to us, give it a few minutes and then we'd pinch her. She'd start to bawl and the mother would stick her head out the door to see what was wrong. We did this a couple times until it was obvious the girl wasn't just crying for nothing. There was a sense of accomplishment in being able to make someone smaller than myself cry. Isn't that awful?
What would make me want to be so mean? My mom had a mean streak. And it is my opinion that her grandmother, my great grandmother, had a mean streak too. Where great grandma got it I don't know. Anyway, mom would tell me how someone in her family, an aunt or possibly great grandma, would purposely stick the baby with the pin when she would change it's diaper. I don't think it was the persons own baby. Isn't that just MEAN? Sticking an innocent and unexpecting infant with a pin, watching the poor thing cry and grinning about it! Awful.
My sister and I would fight. I mean fist fight, throw things at each other, yell, scream and call names. I hated it. I think that's part of the reason I went into religion. It was my way of swearing off of that sort of behavior and taking a "public vow" to show I had made a heart felt change. Only thing is, this last trip to Utah, we had a fight again and the yelling returned and it felt like I had come full circle. Like, I hadn't really changed at all. It was easy to scream at her like I used to and I hated it this time as I hated it all the other times it happened when we were growing up. I was yelling at her for yelling at dad. Make sense to you? Me neither.
What real purpose does being mean serve? What do we gain by being mean? What positive thing can come from such a negative behavior?
Nothing.
This is why I am publishing this blog. To let people know I have a mean streak and I'm working on it. I am learning that there is no real reason to keep it. Kindness, even when you feel the need to snap back and give 'em what they deserve, doesn't always get you what you hoped for............ justice.
The meanies in my family must some day come forward. The fire started somewhere and it must be put out now. I am standing on the side of kindness, until the next time I am faced with a person spitting in my face their vile loathing hatred and I can only hope I have the strength of character to look at them and see it is they who have the problem and not fall into their pit of hatefulness.
Mean People Suck
Don't it make you wonder where those "mean streaks" come from? Do we keep the meanies under the rug and never let them know we know who they are?
I remember when I was little, very little, about 6 to 8 years old, we lived in a trailer court in the middle of Salt Lake City. I mean "in the middle" of the city. The trailers were mostly single wide, there was no grass or playground to play on. Only a smidgen of what would be called a "back yard" and it was really a "side yard", which consisted of gravel and an old truck or something in it taking up most of the room to play. Each trailer was only a few feet away from each other which basically solidified the fact that no one else had a yard. We played in the car wash at the end of the street. It had a roller to squeeze the water out of the rags and we'd put paper cups filled with water and squeeze them until the water shot out the other end of the cup. What fun!!! Another thing we did was run through the Ramada Inn just down the street. I remember looking at the huge swimming pool with the greatest desire to hop the fence and take a dip. Instead, we'd just go in and play around in the Inn. It was huge!! Anyway, I say this to illustrate our immense boredom.
One day Lori and I went over to the neighbors house. They had chicken wire fence so it didn't stand too high off the ground and their little girl was in the yard. She must have been about one or two years old. Lori and I would push her over through the fence, and she'd cry and pick herself back up. We'd make like it was sad that she was crying for no apparent reason to us, give it a few minutes and then we'd pinch her. She'd start to bawl and the mother would stick her head out the door to see what was wrong. We did this a couple times until it was obvious the girl wasn't just crying for nothing. There was a sense of accomplishment in being able to make someone smaller than myself cry. Isn't that awful?
What would make me want to be so mean? My mom had a mean streak. And it is my opinion that her grandmother, my great grandmother, had a mean streak too. Where great grandma got it I don't know. Anyway, mom would tell me how someone in her family, an aunt or possibly great grandma, would purposely stick the baby with the pin when she would change it's diaper. I don't think it was the persons own baby. Isn't that just MEAN? Sticking an innocent and unexpecting infant with a pin, watching the poor thing cry and grinning about it! Awful.
My sister and I would fight. I mean fist fight, throw things at each other, yell, scream and call names. I hated it. I think that's part of the reason I went into religion. It was my way of swearing off of that sort of behavior and taking a "public vow" to show I had made a heart felt change. Only thing is, this last trip to Utah, we had a fight again and the yelling returned and it felt like I had come full circle. Like, I hadn't really changed at all. It was easy to scream at her like I used to and I hated it this time as I hated it all the other times it happened when we were growing up. I was yelling at her for yelling at dad. Make sense to you? Me neither.
What real purpose does being mean serve? What do we gain by being mean? What positive thing can come from such a negative behavior?
Nothing.
This is why I am publishing this blog. To let people know I have a mean streak and I'm working on it. I am learning that there is no real reason to keep it. Kindness, even when you feel the need to snap back and give 'em what they deserve, doesn't always get you what you hoped for............ justice.
The meanies in my family must some day come forward. The fire started somewhere and it must be put out now. I am standing on the side of kindness, until the next time I am faced with a person spitting in my face their vile loathing hatred and I can only hope I have the strength of character to look at them and see it is they who have the problem and not fall into their pit of hatefulness.
2 comments:
I don't have a mean streak. The chain is broken.
P.S. No I don't I have a temper...honestly ask yourself, really do I have a mean streak...
I didn't think so.
I am tagging you BTW, go read my blog. Love you!
Post a Comment