To a Bully

Although this bully story is outside of the United States bullying is a national problem. This case was on my local news station, channel 16, out of South Bend, Indiana and my Facebook. This case also comes from Australia.

I have never been anything special, so don’t think I am any better than the neighbor, but I did have a brother who was mentally challenged. As he grew older he wanted to be friends with anyone. In our school days is where I noticed his behavior of saying anything on the school bus that would get a laugh or attention from the other bus riders.

I stood up for him in the elementary years and I don’t know if this is why I get so irate at people who are picked on, teased or bullied even today. Maybe, it is just my personality or maybe it is something that every person gets mad at. Well, I guess that isn’t quite so is it? The bully and those who stand by and watch don’t seem to get too upset.

I have read many stories on Facebook of bulling and consider the smirks and laughing at my brother also bullying. There are many kinds of bullying. It just doesn’t have to do with school children.

You as a bully think it’s cool don’t you? It places you in the spotlight for a small frame of time. You even get by with it for days, weeks and perhaps months until something stops you. I have a feeling that when you lay your head down at night, you aren’t dreaming of how that kid feels when you bully him. Darn it, you are probably thinking up new ways to bully that other child as you lay there.

I love that Channel 16 made this topic available to all of us on Facebook. There is always the other side of the coin. The one we don’t see quite as often. The side that shows the damage you, the bully, are causing.

I want you to take the time to read this. Read it over and over until it sinks in your head what you are really doing. Try placing yourself in the other foot. Do you want to feel like this little boy feels?

Thank you Channel 16 news, for sharing this story with us.We need to stop this!!!

#FWF Free Write Friday; Trust


I didn’t have it

I lost it all

When he took my heart

And broke it against the wall


Hush little girl

Don’t say a word

This won’t hurt at all

Nothing will be heard


I swear I will get you

You stupid _____

I don’t know why I married you

You give my finger the itch


Abuse comes in many forms

Age is not a number

The fear I give to you

Will be alive in slumber


Years go by and we grow old

Our bodies turn to rust

The only thing that remains the same

Is the constant lack of trust.

Written by,

Terry Shepherd


Shame On Facebook

Mark Zuckerberg, founder and CEO of Facebook

Mark Zuckerberg, founder and CEO of Facebook

Facebook logo Español: Logotipo de Facebook Fr...

I can’t believe my ears. A group on Facebook that bashes parents kids. Can you believe it? People get on there and make fun of disabled kids, pre-mature babies, fat kids, or ugly kids.


In the first place babies are beautiful, not ugly. Disabled children are helpless and can’t fend for themselves.

What is wrong with Facebook? Why would they allow such terrible pages to be allowed? Are there no guidelines? Are adults so ignorant, yes I am using the word ignorant when a person thinks it is alright to say such terrible things, and from what the report says, respondents were answering with laughter, thinking this is funny.

This is a hard, cold and sometimes cruel world we live in today. It is hard to make friends, it is hard for young people to fit in. At that age kids need to know they are loved. What kind of adults will these children turn out to be?

All I can say is I am thankful I don’t know anyone personally who acts in this rude and crude way. They definitely would not be a friend or even casual acquaintance of mine.

Facebook, shame on you. I don’t have the link, I wanted nothing to do with it and wasn’t going to waste my time finding it.

_Picture it & Write, Ermilila

http://ermiliablog.wordpress.compictureitandwrite2copy-1black man

I studied this photo quite a few minutes. This is a mistake that I don’t like to make. I have never done this. I usually write my first thoughts in any story.

But for this photo prompt I saw many things. I wondered what other bloggers were seeing and then I thought, stay true to yourself Terry. Write what you see and feel, not what others may be doing.

So here goes.

I am proud of my name. My name is Samson Jr. . I was entertained when I was young by listening  to stories told by my parents and grandparents of how slaves in our families  had fought, lost and loved. I am proud of how far our present family has come.

I  live in a house with my parents who bought it with money they had worked hard and saved for. When my parents got married, they had nothing but love and the clothes on their backs. God was the center of their lives and they never let faith drift too far a way from their front door.

We have  running water and Papa bought Mama a used set of appliances; a washer and dryer. Mama didn’t have to wonder if it was going to rain or not. She could just put the wet clothes straight in the dryer and walk a way until the buzzer went off.

I go  to a public school system. There are mixed colors in all classes, but black children are less seen. Bullying and hate run  rampant after school  and many times the police can be  seen at the school yard breaking up fights. One time I can remember a black kid, about nine or ten was shot on his way to school.

It was just awful when I was just starting school. I can remember being picked on by the other students and the teacher doing nothing about it. White kids called me names and tore my home-work up in shreds. I would explain to the teacher why I didn’t have it but she still checked my paper with a big red F.

It took talking to my parents and many sessions with the nice counselor after school before I realized that I could do something about it. I learned that I didn’t have to let bullies pick on me. Mama always reminded me that I was special. She told me it didn’t matter what color my skin was; God made us all the same on the inside.

Slowly I gained confidence and I found ways around the kids in my class. I would write out two essays. I had an extra copy in case the kids got a hold of my homework. I learned to sit in the center, front seat. I sat right in front of the teacher’s eyes. She couldn’t deny when something bad was going on. She had no choice but to fix the problems.

I think she hated me. My one teacher just didn’t like me at all. I believe she considered me a trouble maker by making a spectacle out of myself sitting up front. After class one day she pulled on my shirt sleeve. She asked me,” What is it that you are trying to prove Mr. Samson Jr? Are you looking for attention? Don’t you get enough in your own home? Why don’t you sit in the back row with the rest of your friends?”

I can remember looking her square in the eye and saying, “I sit in the front row so I don’t miss anything you are saying Mam. I plan to graduate this school and go to college some day.”

I can still hear her cackling and seeing her tossing her arms up in the air. All she could get out of her painted red lips were, “Really now, so you think you are smart enough to go to college? Well I guess Mr. Samson Jr. time will tell us the truth on this. Go on, get for home.”

Thank goodness life is better today. I did finish that teacher’s class and I did graduate from that school. I worked hard like my parents taught me. I worked my fingers to the bone. Mama and Papa didn’t ask for a single cent. They let me save every single penny I earned down at the grocery store.

I went to a local college and I paid for most of it all by myself. My last year of college I was just beginning that first day and my Sunday School class gave me a gift. It was a gift of money. I can still remember feeling the hugs from each one of my class mates. I thanked them and I am sure I had some tears in my eyes. The entire church had a Sunday noon picnic in my honor too. I got some white envelopes from other folks too.

When we got home I had Mama help me count all those envelopes up and with the money from my Sunday School class and all the other folks, I was so surprised when half of my last year was already going to be paid for, and in advance. I was so proud as I walked into that school office and handed them over the money.

They wrote me  out a receipt, but all they really said was, thank-you. I went a head and finished school. I graduated being a teacher. In fact, I teach other kids in the very school I had attended myself.

Not long after I started teaching Papa died. It really wasn’t that long afterwards that Mama died of a broken heart. These were the hardest days of my life. Burying my parents whom I loved so much. I ended up selling the house and kept with me their personal belongings, and I moved into a nice apartment on the top floor.

It had so much room, I could just run and do flips if I wanted to. The ceilings were high so I could sing and hear my own voice echo off the walls. It had hardwood floors and the living room had two windows that I could open up and let the fresh air in.

The kitchen wasn’t really much to talk about but who cares. It had the important things. An old stove, but it did work, an icebox, and a small red table with two steel chairs. The living room came with a sofa and there was one over-stuffed chair. It had seen better days and had a couple of tears in it. I didn’t care. I took my parents bed blanket and threw it over it. Every time I sat in it, I would think of Mama and Papa.

I had to share a bathroom with two other apartments on my floor. I was the only black man living up here. They weren’t very friendly, but they didn’t bully me either. We just sort of stayed our distance when we would see one another. Sometimes our eyes would meet but quickly part.

I was a happy man. Each morning as I was frying up my bacon I would give thanks to God for one more day. One more chance to teach, one more chance to learn more about life. I lived in this apartment for about four months.

I didn’t get to stay there as long as I had planned on it. I had been teaching that day. It was a day of trials. Kids didn’t turn in homework. They talked too much instead of listening to my voice. I teach fifth grade students, and we all know how restless kids can be at that age.

School was over for the day and I gathered up my books and headed home to fix supper. When I got to my corner of where I lived, I saw my building was on fire. The fire was coming from up high. I just knew in my heart that the smoke was damaging all my belongings as well as I am standing here breathing.

I froze in my steps and I felt tears sliding down my face. I took my red handkerchief out of my back pocket and wiped my eyes. I glanced around at what else was happening. There were blacks and whites fighting in the streets. Some had broken bottles and were trying to  hurt others. Where were the police? When had this started? I wept as I was thankful for how far my family had come in life, but I bled tears for the distance we still had to go to learn to accept that we may be of different colors, but on the inside God made us all the same.


I May Do Battle But I Will Win

Jesus H. Christ

Jesus H. Christ (Photo credit: angelofsweetbitter2009)

Bullies, people who pick on the weaker of mankind. Receiving a temporary rush of power over the human race. Children crying and hitting over wanting to keep the toy they have. Showing their distaste in someone taking what they believe is theirs.

Married couples getting divorces over hurt feelings. Words thrown at each other as daggers. Aiming at the heart ripping it in half. The first place many go is to the courts to get rid of the pain. Of course there are many valid reasons to divorce. I am speaking mainly of couples who argue and head for the judge’s room.

Mid-life crisis. Relationships can become dull and listless. One or both begin to feel threatened by their age. Looking but not speaking the words that would penetrate to understand  the feelings of being lost in the world. Cheating seems to be one way of obtaining the eyes of the mate.

What do we do when we are faced with pain or hurt? Will we fight to the end for what may or not be in our opinion that we are the only one who is right? How far would you go to defend what you know in your heart is right? Would we give up and give in so not to be bullied, be alone, or cheated on?

Do we act like Jesus? Do we go the extra five miles? Will we go to any expense to show others that the way we are living is right and the only way? We will we do the impossible to save a soul from going to heaven?

What if Jesus was mocked and stoned and laid down his staff and turned his back on the people to save his own hurt and pride? When he was made to carry his own cross that he knew would lead to his death did he get so afraid he turned and ran?

Jesus loved us so much. He obeyed his Father’s every command. He knew what was going to happen. He knew the torture he would feel with each word of cruelty being spoken. Every stone thrown, every whip piercing his back. Drawing blood and open sores. Yet he did what he knew was right. He loved us so much he could not turn his back on us.

There is always a prize at the end when we stand up for what is right. When we turn the other cheek. When we take the ridicule of others who don’t care or do not understand. We may not know as Jesus did what reward stands at the end of the path. For us it will show others are strength in our beliefs.

For Jesus his reward was to rise and live forever with his Father. He wanted each of us to have the chance to be saved from Satan. The best is yet to come. We struggle, we fight, we argue. We do what we can to make it to the prize just out  of our reach.

My heart is bursting from knowing that some time many years ago a man loved me so much that he died for me. All I had to do is believe. Can you imagine that? Just believe that Jesus and God are real. Believe that God is with us through every second of the day. Watching over us helping us to make it to the end of our journey.  Just because we never saw the Crucifixion does not mean it never happened.

We believe in fairy tales and Santa Clause and even the Tooth Fairy. So why not believe in something so much taller and more powerful than any of these? I thank-you God for sending your son Jesus Christ to die on the cross. To be forgiven of my sins is the greatest gift I could ever dream of. Thank-you for loving me for I am such a miserable sinner. But now I am saved and to know that at the end of this journey I will be seeing your face, holding your hand in mine is something I ponder on as I fight the daily battles of living here on earth.

Bullying, Drugs, Guns and Family

Ink pink... Bullies stink!

Ink pink… Bullies stink! (Photo credit:

Roseanne is making some noise in the background while I sit here. The episode that I am listening to perked me up enough to actually let my fingers rest and turn my eyes to the television.

The family is having problems, but when aren’t they? This one is based on a family in the eighties trying to make IT work. Overtime is the issue. Although Dan and Roseanne realize the overtime will help it also trickles over into what to do with the kids. How do we all get fed and who is doing what on the house chores category.

They were all in the kitchen discussing options when Dan realizes Becky  isn’t present. He calls her so she is involved also. That is the point where I was having my own flash backs in my life.

I went back to when I was around the age of 10 up to the age of 15 or so. There were only one set of rules at my house. They were known as the Parent Rules. I had no choices in some matters of the house.

I was expected to babysit my baby sister. I was expected to clean the house. Do the laundry and ironing. I was expected to cook what ever mom had laid out in the morning. It was a known fact that I should never come home with less than a C on my report cards. I would never be called down to the school office or I could expect worse when I got home. My parents picked out the style of clothes I wore. I got to pick the colors.

Bills and finances were never discussed in front of us children. Mom and Dad discussed everything that had to do with our family behind their bedroom doors. I never heard screaming or arguing between the two until I was around 17. This may also be that I was older and more in tune with sounds other than from my record player.

There were no family meetings. Where we ate or went in the car was always my parents decisions. We just went along with no questions asked. Our family was not run like a tight ship but it was not an open family either. We were good kids and we had good parents.

But seeing this show helps me see  how much life and families have changed. I remember somewhere in the eighties kids were no longer considered kids to parents. They had a new title called friends. Parents were wanting to be friends with their off spring instead of the leader and tour guide.

I wonder what I would have thought if my parents called us kids in for a family meeting. Maybe it was the yearly house insurance bill that was coming due. Would they ask us to give up something in order for them to make that big bill? What would we think? Would we understand?

My parents figured out everything. I grew up thinking that our family was above others. We had no problems. We had no money issues. We lived in a very nice home. We went to church every Sunday.

There were no classes in high school in my day that taught budgeting or finances. Nothing to teach me about saving for an apartment. How to pay the utility bills. Was having a phone a luxury? Or was having enough food to buy groceries more important?

I learned a lot through many mistakes how to make money and time work for myself when I left the family nest. Would I have gotten married later than sooner if I knew more about how life worked? I don’t know and it doesn’t matter now. None of us can go back and change what has already been done.

So I am asking you these questions. Do you think it is better to be more involved as a youth in family matters concerning money? Should kids be able to see that money can be a juggling act? Or should kids be kept hidden like we were? Last question is should parents be the tour guide or the friend?

That last question always makes me ponder. I look at the troubled teens today. Many are brought up to raise themselves. The drug issue is definitely bigger than it was in my day. I am not saying there wasn’t a drug issue then. It is bigger and many more types of drugs now than ever. Easy access seems to be a big issue.

Where do these kids get all the money to buy these drugs and even the guns? Were drugs discussed in the home? Were gun dangers taught at home? I never knew about guns really. I knew they were used for hunting. Drugs were for medical illness.

When I was 17 I learned the most about illegal drugs when a student in my graduating class overdosed and died. Anything else I learned was from head line news or people talking. Along with drugs and guns is now a bigger issue than ever, bullying.

So in closing of my thoughts what should be taught at home versus our schools and friends?

Daily Prompt ; Undo / The Daily Post

Efe ve dedesi

If you could un-invent something, what would it be? Discuss why, potential repercussions, or a possible alternative.

I can think of a few things I wish didn’t exist. Should I name them all? Should I name my top thoughts? I better stick to simple.

Eyes that could see no difference. Wouldn’t it be great if we saw each of us through only our heart and souls? If our eyes could not see that we each weight differently. That we could ignore the label on the clothes, or the longer eye lashes? How about the neighborhoods we live in. What if we could be blinded to everything and only see lips move and hear  what is being said.

Take this one category and sub-divide it. Bullying. I just hate the word bullying. I hate what it represents. Adults have a way of being sneaky. We have grown and learned how to hit certain buttons to upset others. We have learned to pick out the red button that we know will devastate another soul if we just click on it.

Children on the other hand are born innocent. Even in elementary years, innocence is still high on the top ten list. I am not going to dive on the jumping board and go behind the scenes and say what make children do what they do. I am going to stick to the surface, skim the pool.

I can remember back when I was young I developed earlier than the other girls in my class. I was wearing a bra months before other little girls. Lord only knows why, I am not blessed today. LOL

Boys and girls picked on me all the time. I was also heavier than some of the other little kids. Not obese but it was obvious to the naked eye. I got called fatty and heard the old saying fatty fatty two by four can’t get through the kitchen door. I heard that so often that If I had collected a dollar for every time, I would not have to be looking for a part-time job today.

Today manners are at the lower level and this allows wicked tongues to speak hurtful words. In the past five or so years it has walked on one more stepping stone. Now not only is there pain in words, there is physical pain.

If my parents ever witnessed or heard of me hurting someone physically I could guarantee I would not be able to sit down comfortably the next day. I am in awe each time I hear of children and teens beating  up on others. Prepared with weapons of knuckle busters and bats floors me. The weakest ones will draw strength through sharing their thoughts with other weak students, thus forming a rotten cheering block.

The main instigator feels power. Power in the mouth and hands. For the prize of acknowledgement and acceptance great strides are taken to end up the winners. Are they winners? Of course not, but they don’t see it that way.

This in turn leads me back full circle to my beginning statement. What started this? What happened before the first word was spoken? What pain is that child carrying to make him lash out.

I refuse to believe that there are many children who get off or love to hurt others just for the fun of it. There may be a small amount, and if there is, we need to work harder to see if there is a medical reason hiding behind them.

Well I will get off of this topic. Other wise you will still be reading about this at bedtime. Our children are our futures. It takes one minute to conceive a baby. It takes a life time to raise and nurture them. Many pebbles are tossed in our path as we lead them from infant to adult. As parents we can only do what we know best how to do.

Lord be with the adults who don’t want the child, but refuse to let any other caring human raise them. Lord be with the children that are homeless. I pray for young minds to never be starved for knowledge. Lord I  pray that you wrap your arms around those who are hurting. Bring comfort to them. Lord help us adults to not look the other way. I pray that you help guide our thoughts throughout each day. Let us be a blessing instead of a thorn. Help us Lord, for our world is like it has never been before. Amen