The bullied and the ignored

I was a mid-year transfer into Morristown High School in my freshman year (1962-63). The first thing I remember being told is there was a crazy girl named Hillary who was obsessed about Charles Lindburgh, the first person to fly solo across the Atlantic Ocean back in the 1920s. I had read Lindburgh's biography and thought little of it. He was a hero and should be admired.

It turned out, though none of us knew it, she was indeed suffering from mental illness -- she was a childhood schizophrenic. Yet she was also a genius. So I supposed many of us viewed her as eccentric.

A homeroom classmate of mine for those three and a half years, I just felt sorry for Hillary and sort of ignored her. The only time I remember being involved in a conversation with her was in front of my homeroom teacher with several other people. For some reason the size of her breasts came up. I remember her saying it didn't matter because no one was interested in her. I had no idea she was schizophrenic. But I was aware that certain girls bullied her, mocking her in the hallways and after school. Short and very wide at the hips, she had this unusual running style. I thought she used it to escape her tormenters. It wasn't until nearly 50 years later that I learned she was imagining that she was a horse galloping with other horses. But the thing that really impacts me in hindsight is that no one fought for her. No one stood up for her and told off those cowardly bullies. No one invited her to join them at a lunch table. No one invited her to parties or any after school activities.Hillary wasn't the only one who was bullied. Another home room member, Joyce, left school in the middle of the year after a night out of drinking and carousing. Her parents had sent her to a private school where she could pull herself together. But the rumor mill said she had gotten pregnant that night. It was completely untrue. I was with her, along with several others as we partied in Greenwich Village after the last night of our high school play. The fact is, she was a virgin.Anyhow, some horrible people sent Joyce's parents diapers. I am still amazed about how cruel high schoolers could be; how little sympathy we have for those who don't quite fit into the norm.Now all this was more than 50 years ago. But there are still those who attend high school who are bullied and tortured. I know a 10-year-old boy whose mother is a drug and alcohol addict and he has endured her insanity nearly all of his life. She had him place in a small Christian school where he grew to be accepted. But his mother lost custody and the youngster now has to enter a new school system. Who is there to befriend him? To help him, protect him and defend him? And he is now suffering from these things. He acts up frequently and refuses to participate in activities. He has family, but they have difficulty coping with him.For all these children, there is no one who will walk in his shoes. And those who who have will avoid the same road because they don't want to go back to a place of such pain.About eight years ago, I found out about Hillary's later life. I had made contact through Facebook with her sister, Paula. I composed a letter to Hillary that Paula read to her. Paula had told me she was living in a group home near Miami. I had asked if I could visit her and perhaps bring a couple of other classmates for a visit. Hillary wanted nothing to do with the horrible years she was subjected to. This was just prior to our 45th class reunion and I promised not to disclose anything about her present life. When our 50th reunion happened, she was listed as dead as a result of a third person who didn't know anything but what she heard from someone else. She wasn't – and it reminded me about how she had been ignored and mistreated by us.So I want to say this to you: Pick out one person who is considered an "outcast" and learn about them. Be the friend they need. It will benefit you far more than the outcast.Paula wrote an amazing tribute to her sister on Facebook that follows.* * *Hillary Susan Schiff was my sister’s full name. She was almost 6 years older than me. She was different. She was brilliant (asked to join Mensa). She could paint in both oils and water colors and could sculpt. Her favorite medium was simply drawing with a pen on paper and she drew almost constantly. She also wrote long rambling stories. Her love of music (show tunes and opera and classical) pervaded our house.My father made the molds for 5 of the major record labels so we always had the latest vinyl, gratis.As a childhood schizophrenic, she escaped into her own worlds that were less painful than the one around her. As a child, it was horses and dinosaurs. When the space program commenced, it was her love of all things related that provided her escape. She graduated Summa Cum Laude from Fairley Dickenson University but had no real skills to offer in the workplace. After a stint in Greystone, she was offered a job as a part time proof reader for a small publishing house in town. Like many schizophrenics, whose meds that keep the symptoms at bay have their own side effects ,she did not stay on them and fell back into her world.We had to have her committed in order to get her medical care for a growth on her neck back in 1996. That turned out to be salivary gland cancer. Luckily we caught it in time and after surgery and radiation she was cancer free for the rest of her life. In 1997 she entered into Assisted Living care in a small family owned facility in Ft. Lauderdale. They made sure she stayed on her meds and she could come and go as she pleased. She had friends, clubs, volunteered locally and finally a life. A few years ago, that began to change as Parkinson’s and dementia took over. This past summer we had to move her to a nursing home . In moments of lucidity, she knew where she was and gave up. She retreated further and further until she recognized no one.Hillary left us yesterday all too suddenly. Parkinson’s robs you of so many abilities and for Hillary, it was the ability to swallow properly. Yesterday, while resting in her chair she had an episode that took her very quickly.I sit here with very mixed emotions. I’m angry that she never had the life she should have had. I’m sad that she’s gone. And I am also relieved that she has left the world that caused her so much pain.I have no idea if she is in Heaven because God judges us all, but I can’t imagine that she isn’t. She suffered her entire life but never became bitter. She was a sweet soul and even though living with and caring for her for a lifetime was tough, knowing it wasn’t her fault made it a bit easier to endure.

Rest In Peace, Hillary. I hope you are enjoying your place in Heaven as your reward for such a painful life here. Kiss Mom and Dad for me. I love you and miss you already.

Memo to a fringe element of the me-too movement.

Memo

To: the female species

From: one somewhat pissed off old man

Subject: Know something about history and sex

Date: December 1, 2018

A joke from a 1960s Pocono honeymoon resort comedian: Two little children, one boy and one girl, are sitting near one another on an airliner. The boy says to the girl, who is about seven and a couple of years older than the boy: “look what I have, a new toy truck.”

“Little boy,” the girl replies, “I have a Barbie sports car.”

Well, being a boy, he doesn’t want a girl to top him so he says, “My daddy built me a swing set.”

“Little boy,” the girl answers, “I have a swing set next to the swimming pool my father had installed.”

This goes on for a while and finally the boy is completely frustrated. He tears down his pants and points to his little male part and screams “well I have one of these and I KNOW you don’t have one.

The girl runs away to her mother. In a minute or so she returns to the boy, pulls up her skirt and points to her little female part and says: “Little boy, my mommy told me that as long as I have one of these, I can get all I want of those.”

I really don’t give a rat’s ass if you like the joke or not. But you should. The joke, however, is a statement about sexual relations. And that is the woman has the right to choose where, when and with whom she wants to be intimate. Lately, the “me too” movement has exposed sexual abuse and we have learned it is far more common than we thought. But the “war” between the sexes has usually defined the roles of each sex. And that can be summed up in a three word sentence: Men pursue women.

Now I realize this isn’t true in many countries, especially in Asia. But let’s stick to the culture here in the United States.

Since the advent of the birth control pill, women were given the choice to have sex when they wanted it without the risk of pregnancy. It was the beginning of the sexual revolution and even today in an era of deadly STDs, an earlier form of birth control, condoms, is used rather than going back to our puritan values. But while we are doing things somewhat differently, there has been no turning back. And it still remains the woman’s choice. And men will continue to pursue women.

I understand this, and I endorse it. Why? Because in the courtship ritual, both the man and woman get to know one another. Now sex comes in several flavors: the one-night stand, the friends with benefits, recreational sex, affairs, and a course of developing true intimacy with the idea of a long-term relationship. And frequently the partners have different ideas of what is going on.

But the bottom line is still that the woman, other than in a criminal situation, is in control of the decision. Now don’t get me wrong, I applaud the goals of the ‘me-too” movement. But there are times when things get out of hand. And the controversy over the song “Baby, it’s cold outside” is simply way overboard.

Baby, It's Cold Outside" is a popular song written by Frank Loesser in 1944. It is a call and response duet in which a host, usually performed by a male voice, tries to convince a guest, usually performed by a female voice, that she should stay the evening because the weather is cold and the trip home would be difficult. While the lyrics make no mention of any holiday, it is popularly regarded as a Christmas song due to its winter theme.

Loesser wrote the song for his wife and himself to perform at parties. It’s intent was to advise guests it’s time to leave.

He sold the song to MGM, which used it for the 1949 film Neptune's Daughter.  It was sung by Ester Williams and Ricardo Montalban and won the Academy Award for best song. Since 1949 it has been covered by many singers. Here are some of the people who have sung this duet: Dean Martin, the cast of “Glee.” Zoey Deschanel, Ray Charles, Lady Antebellium, Willie Nelson, Kelly Clarkson, Rob Stewart with Dolly Parton, and my favorite, Margaret Whiting and Johnny Mercer.

I personally enjoy the song because it is so flirtatious. It’s truly a fun reflection of the late 1940s. The man is, of course, trying to get the woman to spend the night. Hey – news flash – that’s normal for today as well as 70 years ago!

The main lyric that seems to offend is the woman saying: “say, what’s in this drink?” News Flash #2 – There were no such things as “roofies” back then.

And let’s look at the entire lyrics. The woman is choosing to stay longer by having a drink, smoking a cigarette and other things. She is performing a mating dance with the guy saying things that were the norm for the time such as judgmental aunts and worried parents. But the fact is this song has, to my knowledge, rarely if ever been sung by teens or teen idols. It is a song for adults to sing.

So anyhow, what aggravates me is this wanting to ban a song goes way too far because people don’t understand history in general, the history of the song, and the values and mores of the time it was originally performed. Mainly after the second world war. And people were creating babies like crazy in those days. That’s why they call people like me baby boomers.

There are many, many other songs – mostly rap music – that deserve to be censured. But not this one. So anyhow, I simply ask the fanatical fringe of this movement to shut the hell up and let people enjoy a funny and harmless song. Ladies, get over it! 

Thanks for the platform to speak out.