Beech Tree News Network

I’m a relatively tolerant person, but every once in a while, I’ll cross paths with a person who rubs me the wrong way.  More times than not, their behavior has something to do with the way they are treating children or animals.
    Years ago, in the waiting area of a restaurant in Alabama, a large brut of a man slapped his little boy on the back.  The crack of that slap reverberated all around me.  The man yelled at the child, “Now, how does that feel!”   I was very young and timid  at the time, but if it happened today, I would march myself over and slap that man’s face hard enough to ring his jaws then say, “Probably a lot like that just did!”  Of course, the man would have pounded me into the floor, but some things are worth being pounded into the floor for, especially children who are being mistreated.
    I know that’s big talk for a 5 foot, 125 pound woman, now that it’s after the fact;  but the reason I believe I would confront that man today is because, if not for the temperament of my husband, Garey, I would probably have been pounded into the pavement of a Walmart parking lot a couple of years ago.
    We were behind a man with three kids as we exited the store.  The smallest, a tot of about three years of age, was the straggler.  He went in the opposite direction of his group, and was two rows over before I caught up with him.  His dad never missed him.  I took the little boy’s hand and walked him back towards his dad.  “Hey!” I yelled, with as much disdain as I could pack into one syllable.
    “Cheryl, be nice,” Garey cautioned. 
    The man, who was built like a UFC cage fighter, turned in my direction.  “Forgot one,” I said, forcing a smile.  He forced a smile back.  “Get in the car, Bub,” he said, as he turned his back on me.
    Garey’s raised eyebrows and sideways glance told me he wasn’t in a hurry to rescue my backside if I picked a fight, so it’s probably thanks to him that I am not a greasy spot on a parking lot.
    People who lord their position over animals also get my goat.  This year, while I was Christmas shopping, I went into Pet Smart.  There were several shoppers there with their dogs, so I browsed longer than usual, so I could pet the little ones.  One really nice associate had a bag of treats he was sharing with their canine guests, but when he offered one to a beautiful German shepherd, the dog’s owner decided the dog needed to jump through a few hoops to get it.
    “Sit,” he told the dog.  “Wait.  Now, speak.”  The dog looked at him in disbelief, like the associate, the twenty-five people around him and I did.  “Speak,” the owner ordered again.  The dog opened his mouth to “speak” and the associate quickly dropped in a treat.  I almost cheered.  The owner wasn’t happy, but none of the rest of us cared.  I will always regret not walking over to that guy and saying, “It was a treat—something offered without expectation—hence the word, TREAT!”
    At the top of the list of people I would really like to go back and slap stupid is a man by the name of Darvin Aaron.  Unfortunately, he passed away two years ago, so I missed my opportunity.  When you read the following story, you will understand why I used his full name and location.  I met Darvin over breakfast at Aggie’s and J.D.’s (Garey’s parents) in Corner, Alabama.  He bought and sold cows and was there that day to take some cattle off J.D.’s hands.
Darvin started the conversation by telling us his wife had left him simply because she was tired of farm life—fat chance.  He went from that point to telling us about the woman he married after his wife left.  “She had a purse for every dress,” he said.   “And she had a kid who didn’t know how to put up a toy, but I fixed that,” he continued.   “I came home one day, and she had her dolls spread out on the kitchen floor, so I grabbed them up, put them in a box, and headed to the landfill.  When I got there and threw them out in the pile where the dozers were headed, a lady jumped out of her car and started yelling about how she wanted those dolls.  I told her she wasn’t getting them, and furthermore, I was going to stand right there till the dozers smashed those dolls into the dirt, which is what I did.”
 I don’t remember any of us saying anything, which is to our shame.  The woman took her child and left Darvin shortly after that incident.  That was over 20 years ago, and I can’t imagine the negative effects that little girl still carries with her as a woman.  I hope, somehow, the experience worked to make her determined to never let another person make her feel that helpless, and I hope she went back before Darvin Aaron died and slapped him stupid.