Never Respond as Expected The unexpected response puts the one who makes it in charge By Ed Chasteen
The Bully
Jud Long was big and mean. The bully of our junior high. He had threatened many times to do me great harm. I was sure he could. So I avoided him. That summer I was 14 I was working at a service station. I turned one morning and there stood Jud. I’m gonna beat your skinny butt to a pulp,” he hissed. What was I to do? I couldn’t run. He would catch me. And I had customers to wait on. I would sound ridiculous if I threatened him. Then I heard someone say, “Well, Jud, if that’s how you feel, come ahead and I’ll try to help you.”
What! Who said that? I looked around. There was no one else. It sounded like me. Had I said that? What did it mean? I had no idea. But neither did Jud. He stood there. His mouth open. Looking confused. Then, without a word, he wheeled around and walked away. He never bothered me again.
The Admissions Committee
I was 26. Married. With three children. And I wanted to go the University of Missouri to get my PhD and become a college professor. I applied to their graduate school. They turned me down. Said my scores on standardized test were “not predictive of a high level of performance.” I was mad. I sat down to write them a nasty letter.
“That won’t do any good you idiot. That’s what they expect.” That voice again! I cooled down and wrote another letter. “Gentlemen, insofar as my scores cause you to doubt my abilities, I regret them. Those scores, however, do not cause me to doubt myself. I know I can do the work. My regret is that now I will do it elsewhere. I will never know what I might have learned from you and we will never know what together we might have done.” That was the end of our relationship. I wanted it to be as positive as possible.
A week later a letter came in the mail from that admissions committee. “We have decided to reopen your application. A week later, another letter. “We have decided to admit you on probation. A week later, a third letter. “When you come, would you teach a class for us? After I was there for only one semester, they gave me the biggest fellowship they had to offer. A year later I had my PhD.
The Local Bigots
I was teaching Race Relations at William Jewell College. Coretta Scott king was coming to speak. Some of our local bigots came with their hate signs and marched in our street. As we all stood watching, I wondered if my students might think I agreed with these guys. They might. If I just stood there. If they could have a sign, so could I. I ran to my office. Found a big piece of poster board and made myself a sign. I ran to join them. My sign said, THESE GUYS ARE NUTS. The crowd began to laugh. The bigots got in their cars and went home. They had not come to make us laugh. They had come to intimidate us. And when they couldn’t, they had no power.
The Louisiana Klansman
A Klansman won election in Louisiana to the state legislature. I had always told my students that it’s never enough just to know. We must be willing to act. So my students and I got the governor of Louisiana to invite us to come help the state redeem itself. We found a black church and a white church to host us. We asked an airline for free tickets to fly to Baton Rouge. They said yes. We started HateBusters. We designed a shirt and wrote a song. We spent four days in Louisiana. Word got out, and we began to be invited all across the country.
A Cross burning in Our Town
Someone burned a cross in a black man’s yard in our town, just a few blocks off campus. A juvenile prank some said. Ignore it. It won’t happen again. Not so, I told my students. We must act. We organized a march after chapel one Thursday From our campus to the courthouse. Wearing our HateBusters shirts. Chanting UP WITH PEOPLE—DOWN WITH HATE. Hundreds came. We made speeches on the courthouse steps. The next morning the Kansas City Star carried a full-page editorial praising our march and saying that if other towns sent such a loud and clear message, they would not have repeated episodes of such behavior. Our town never had another.
The Doomsday Doctor
“You have MS,” my doctor said. “It’s a damnable disease and you can’t be active.” I was in my 40s. How would I support my family? I didn’t want to be a burden. Panic and depression took over my life. I thought of suicide. I quit most everything. Except going to class and going to church. If I could keep teaching my classes and being comforted by my friends at church, maybe I could fight my way back to life.
Mickey Mouse Gives Me a Trophy
Six year later I got on a bicycle at Disney World in Florida. Headed for Seattle. Then down to Disneyland in Anaheim. By myself. With no money. I wanted to prove my doctor wrong. He was right about my having MS. But I didn’t believe my MS meant I couldn’t be active. Three and a half months after leaving Disney World, I pedaled into Disneyland. They had a parade just for me. Mickey gave me a trophy. Now I ride thousands of miles every year. My MS means I must be active. If I ride, I can run. If I don’t, I can’t walk.
Thanks Jud
I haven’t seen or heard about Jud Long in more than 50 years. But few days go by that I don’t think of him and the lesson I learned from him that day when I was 14 at the service station. My unexpected response disarmed him and empowered me for bigger things ahead.
The Terrorists
I’m more afraid of not living than I am of dying. Cowards die many times. The brave die but once. With terrorism loose in the world, I am redoubling my efforts to become a World Class Person, one who can go any place at anytime and talk to anyone about anything and feel safe.
In Man of LaMancha, Don Quixote comes to an old house he thinks is a castle and meets a harlot he thinks is a lady. She curses him for his kind words and gentle manner. He calls her, “My lady”. Profess his devotion. And asks her name. “My name’s Aldonza, you fool, and I’m no lady.” “No, my lady, your name is not Aldonza. Your name is Dulcinea.” She laughs and mocks him.
Several more times in the story they meet. Each time he calls her Dulcinea and treats her as a lady. She protests and treats him as a fool. Then she hears that he is dying. She goes to find him. She forces her way in to him. “My lord,” she says. “Who is it?” He asks. “You know who I am my lord. You called me by name and changed my life.” “No, my lady. Who is it?” And she says, “It’s Dulcinea.”
She now sees herself as he has seen her all the time. That’s the way I see the world. I know Aldonza is out there. But I will treat the world as Dulcinea until one of two things shall happen. Either it becomes what I already know it to be. Or it does me in. I will accept no other outcome.
The Juds of this world don’t expect that.
HateBusters
Box 442
Liberty, MO 64069
Phone: 816-803-8371
e-mail: hatebuster@aol.com
No Boundaries On Our Soul!
