Not All Big Kids Are Bullies

By Verne ‘Tyke’ Gavitt

If someone walks up to a big guy and says, man youre big, do you play football, its OK, but if I walked up to a short guy and said, men youre short are you a jockey, then Im the smart ass.

If someone walked up to me and said, Hows it going big guy, its OK, but if I walked up to a short guy and say Hows it going little man then Im the jerk.

Remember not all southerners are racist, not all New Yorker's are rude, not all short guys have a Napoleon complex and not all big kids are bullies. God created everyone differently for a reason! Accept who you are reject what you think people think you should be

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Oct 12, 2010
• ISBN: 9781452084930

Verne ‘Tyke’ Gavitt

Verne Gavitt grew up in a small town called Brockport in upstate New York. Like a lot of the kids in his town Verne had the typical childhood that most kids from a blue collar family had, with one exception, Verne was always bigger than most kids his age. At an early age Verne had to understand how to deal with being teased and feeling like he "just didn't fit in". Because Verne knew what it felt like to be teased, as he got older, he became a "protector", often sticking up for the underdog! This book is the story of how he learned to use humor to hide his pain and how he helped others to understand that "Not All Big Kids Are Bullies".

Book preview

© 2010 Verne ‘Tyke’ Gavitt. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

First published by AuthorHouse 9/29/2010

ISBN: 978-1-4520-8493-0 (e)

ISBN: 978-1-4520-8492-3 (sc)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2010914682

Printed in the United States of America

This book is printed on acid-free paper.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any Web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

Preface

Introduction

About the Author

Preface

For human beings transcendence is part of our experience of the world. (Karen Armstrong).

Here transcendence means stepping outside of our personal egotistic perspective and seeing the world from a universal perspective. Karen Armstrong makes an observation that the concept of self transcendence is bound up with the golden rule of religion/ spirituality - treating others as you yourself would like to be treated

If we can transcend our limited self then this rule has the effect of becoming an inherent part of our own nature. If we view other people as extended part of our own reality then how can we wish to act in a way that injures them.

Introduction

If someone walks up to a big guy and says, man you’re big, do you play football, its ok, but if I walked up to a short guy and said, man you’re short are you a jockey, then I’m the smart ass.

If someone walked up to me and said, How’s it going big guy, it’s ok, but if I walked up to a short guy and say How’s it going little man then I’m the jerk.

Remember not all southerners are racist, not all New Yorker’s are rude, not all short guys have a Napoleon complex and not all big kids are bullies.

Before you read this book, you should better understand my views and how they were formed. I, like the majority of us, grew up in a suburb outside an average size city. The town I grew up in happened to be called Brockport. The two biggest attractions in the town were the university and the Erie Canal. Between the college and the Erie Canal there was plenty of things to do. Life in a small college town is actually a great place to grow up. No worries except for the ones we made up and sometimes we would get into a little trouble just to break up the boredom.

When I was born, I weighed just over five pounds. My mother was born in Scotland, so when her brother, Charles Inns, first saw me he said, Ah, he’s such a wee little Tyke. From that day forth my family called me Tyke, As I’m sure most of you know the word Tyke means, small one. By the time I went to kindergarten, I was less then small. I was always much bigger then most kids my age and as a result I was often picked on. I had to learn at a very early age not to let words bother me.

Growing up I would describe my family as a typical family of that time. We were kind of like the Brady Bunch but with a few minor differences. In my family, we were not a blended family like The Brady’s. Another difference was both of my parents worked fifty hours a week in a factory; my mother at the GM factory and my father at Eastman Kodak, half of which he spent in a bar across the street. When my mother got home, she cooked and cleaned until she went to bed because we had no maid named Alice. However, no matter how hard she worked it seemed like she always had time for us. The us in our household consisted of my mom and dad, my little brother, my two older sisters and me. We always knew our mom would be there for us no matter how hard her day was and like any good Catholic mother, she always reminded us of how hard she worked. Now I’m not saying she would "guilt us into doing things, I’m just saying. When my father got home from work, the first thing he would do was have a few beers and wait for dinner to be cooked. Oh yeah, one other difference was Mike Brady wasn’t an alcoholic.

Now God knows there’s been more then enough self help books’ written about alcoholism and children of alcoholics. If that’s the type of book you want, understand this is probably not what you’re looking for. By no stretch of the imagination is THIS ANOTHER BLAH BLAH BLAH I’m ok your ok books….If that’s what your want to read, I suggest you quit blaming your parents for you fucking up your life, stop whining because daddy never said he loved you and find another book. I want to be clear that when I use the word alcoholic, I’m referring to the Alma’s definition not mine. I would describe my father as a functional alcoholic! My father was always a