Bobo and His Sisters Beat Me Up!

I've been pretty quiet since I came back from vacation a few weeks ago. I guess I have just felt that I don't have much to say, or rather, type.

Today, I've decided to share a story from my childhood:
My big brother had the misfortune of being the only boy in our family. Being ever resourceful, he turned that misfortune into good fortune, and never wanted for admirers. (Though, I myself do not understand it to this day!) Shortly after my family moved to a new town in Illinois from Ohio, my brother met a girl who she, herself, did not lack admirers. Keeping in mind that they were all eleven. I'm quite sure I don't remember the details of this most important relationship, who crushed on who, but there was a young man who felt himself spurned. I don't recall his name, and I don't think I can recall his face.

This young lover jilted, at least in his own imagination, met us one day on our walk home from school. There were the five of us ranging in age from 5 or 6 - 12 years of age. He hopped of his bicycle and confronted my brother, as any noble man in love should do! Somewhere along the way he shoved my brother, and made him slip out of the shoe he was wearing. His response to this affront was to pick up the shoe and hit the boy with it.

I should interject here that my family was taught not to get into fights. We were brought up on an Opie mentality: Our parents didn't want us starting fights, but they didn't want us running away from them either.

After we saw him physically assault our brother we did the only thing we could do, for surely his life was in grave danger. We all took up our metaphorical swords. Actually, the weaponry was not purely metaphorical. My eldest sister, the most mature, used only her words. My other two sisters and myself, we were a bit scrappier. We picked up sticks and rocks, pelting him and hitting him until he ran away.

The next day the young man went to school looking a little worse for the wear. When asked how this had happened to him he said, "Bobo and his sisters beat me up!"

The moral of this story is to never mess with children from a large family. Each individual member has a small army at their command.