A Tale Of Past Regret!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

                                   Thinking about that same, distant past, caused me to realize something.  For all the times I have written on here about bullying, whether it related to me or Tyler Clementi, I have never related that, between First and Fourth grades, I did some myself.

                                       I can say now it was minimal, but at the time, who knew what impact it had on the victim?

                                         During these years, again at Irving School, there was a girl, who a year ahead of me, named Harriet Wearie (the spelling is mine, as I am not sure how she spelled it!).  My single memory of her is of a girl in an oversized red, winter jacket, with a hood so large it practically covered her face,

                                            Harriet was what, today, one would call plain, but children of that age attached to her the worst title imaginable--ugly!!!!!!!!!!!!

                                             The way things went, whenever a boy walked by Harriet, he would throw his arms up into the air, make choking gestures, or something and yell, in mock terror, "Aaaaaaaah!!!!!!! Wearie!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"  I remember both my parents picking me up one day, and witnessing this.  I can recall doing it myself.  One day, while my mother picked me up, I was doing it, with Harriet standing there, and Neil Weiss, then a safety patrol guard, said if I did this one more time, I would be reported.

                                             Harriet lived practically outside of town--off Duclos Lane, down the road apiece, in a two story house that looked haunted.  It always reminded me of Saki's story, "The Open Window."  Legend has it that her mother was a witch; that she was seen on the porch, one day, calling for her daughter, in a witchy voice--Haaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrriiiiiiiiiieeeeeeeeeeetttttttttttt!!!!!!!!!!!!"

                                                One day my mother had me walk home from school to my friend Doug's house. She was going shopping, or getting her hair done, and I was to stay there and play, until she came for me.  This must have been when I was in third grade.

                                                   A group of us, including Doug and I, walked in a pack toward home.
Suddenly, from behind us, a voice--I think it was Patti Aldi's sister, Linda--shouted "Oh, my God!
Wearie's coming!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"   Well, suddenly, it was like a scene out of "The Birds'--a group of kids running from a peer, who, as I understand it now, was looked down for being plain and impoverished.

                                                     Harriet's clothes always had a threadbare look to them. And I have a feeling the house she was in was rented, not owned.

                                                        Then came the Summer before Fourth Grade.  I was to have Mrs. Brodsky, which I was pissed about, because I wanted Mrs. Kirschbaum.  I would have done better with her, but who listened to me, back then?  Even though I knew what was better for me academically than my parents or school administrators.

                                                            One day, at this time, as I came in from playing, to get ready for dinner, my mother said to me, "Guess who is going to be in your class?"  I made some guesses, but could not figure it out, until my mother said, "Guess who was left back in fourth grade," and I realized--Harriet Wearie.  I was both thrilled and excited; I never really knew what Harriet was all about, and I wanted to find out for myself.  Of course, I called Doug, and we gossiped about it, madly.

                                                               However, by the time school resumed. Harriet was not there. She had moved away, and I have no idea what happened to her since. But I would like to.

                                                                 Because I would like to tell her how sorry I was for whatever part I played in her humiliation.  I hate myself for it, now.  And, Harriet, if you are out there, feel free to comment; I hope Life has been kinder to you, than it was then.

                                                                    Donna Calise, now deceased, made me see the error of my ways by talking to me..  I wish I had had the chance to talk to Harriet.

                                                                     And if any of you remember this, feel free to let me know!!!!!!!!!!