Bobby Gouker's mom passed away last week. Who is Bobby Gouker you ask? You don't know him, in fact few people knew him. Bobby died years ago, but he still lives in my memory, and it haunts me.
Bobby was a classmate of mine at Weston Elementary School in Elkhart, Indiana. Bobby stood out from the rest. He was goofy looking, with a high, fat tummy, flabby arms and legs, unruly rusty red-brown hair and freckles. He looked like a clown.
Bobby wasn't good in school, he wasn't personable - and worst of all for a boy - he was terribly uncoordinated. He lived with his mother who was much older than most of our mothers, he had no father that we knew of, he had no brothers or sisters, and he had no friends. In short, he was the kid we all dumped on. We treated him like shit because we knew he would take it and not fight back. He didn't have any defense mechanisms, no smart mouth, no quick retorts. He just looked downcast and walked away.
Today I think teachers would have noticed what was going on and intervened, but back then teachers were only paid to teach not change behavior or protect the dumped on.
Like most of the boys in school, Bobby joined our cub scout troop when it formed. Mothers were supposed to take turns hosting the meetings and when it was Bobby's mother's turn we all went over to Bobby's house wondering what to expect. We had never been to his house before (did I mention that he had no friends?).
Obviously Bobby's mother didn't have a clue. We entered a house that was dark and quiet, with soft adult music playing in the background. Bobby's mother served little tiny finger sandwiches, little celery and carrot sticks, and nuts on fancy plates we had never encountered before. It was as though she were entertaining a ladies auxiliary club or something. We all sat around in confused silence and then went home. I'm sure Bobby was mortified. He never came to another scout meeting after that.
Thinking back, Bobby was one of the most miserable kids I ever knew.
I'm sure down inside we knew that the way we treated Bobby was not right. There was an incident that sticks out in my mind even to this day. At recess our school had a playground for boys and another for girls. In good weather we boys always played softball at recess. We would appoint two captains and they would take turns picking their team until there was only one kid left, Bobby. The captain whose turn it was would always grimace when they had to take Bobby because Bobby couldn't catch a ball, couldn't throw a ball, or hit a ball. He was toxic in the field and at bat. No captain wanted to take him. How humiliating recess every day must have been for Bobby. Once Bobby and another kid were out sick and I was the last person left, and I recall how embarrassed I felt.
But one recess one of the captains evidently had a moment of adult insight and compassion, and with his first pick he said, "I'll take Bobby Gouker." There was stunned silence and then everyone clapped and cheered. I'll never forget the look on Bobby's face as he walked out to take his place as the first chosen.
But that day was a single aberration. By 6th grade Bobby learned to avoid us, to turn inward and protect himself from his daily humiliations. After 6th grade I never saw Bobby again. I never had a class with him, never ran into him in the halls. I found out later he graduated from our high school and a few years later died in an auto accident, though I suspect it was not an accident. Regardless, his memory stays with me year after year, a memory of how I and my classmates sucked the pleasure of life from another.
It's hard not to blame myself, or my classmates, but in reality, we didn't know any better at the time. We hadn't learned empathy yet.
As far as I know all my classmates turned out to be good people and good citizens. Few if any had a mean streak in them. Still, those memories of Bobby boil up from time to time (I've written about him before), especially when I hear of children who have been abused. Of all the human rights I recognize, the one I am most fervent about (and the hardest to enforce) is the right of every child to be loved, cherished, hugged, and to have a happy childhood.
--Trakker
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