I met my first civilian bully in the small Iowa town where I grew up. A group of us who lived within blocks of one another were outside most of the year, doing everything from playing school in an old coal shed at our house, to afternoons spent at the swimming pool or at our small public library. We also played softball and tag football regularly, and traded comic books. Several of us also tracked Hit Parade sheet music and learned it, pretending to offer concerts in the park. Pretty innocuous, except for the neighborhood bully who lurked on the sidelines or interrupted our activities or our walks by threatening us and impeding our activities. For about a year, I recall that my reaction after trying to ignore him was to run inside my house and cower until he picked on someone else. At that point, I decided to look up all the words he called me and let him know he needed to stop or I would report him to both of our parents. Because he had no real power over me, I was able to back him off. I learned my first lesson about standing up to bullies.