I've always done a good job of fighting, as long as it was with my mouth, but that was as far as it went. We had a couple of girls in town who thought it was their duty to prove how tough they were. When I was in the fifth grade I was beat up by another girl. I fought the only way I knew how, I pulled her hair. Her friends said I didn't fight fair, but I'm afraid I hadn't had any lessons on how to fight.

When my oldest daughter was a girl one of the little boys in the neighborhood was a real bully. Every day while she was riding her tricycle he knocked her off of it and took her trike. She ran to the house crying and I had to go out and make him give the tricycle back. I was tempted to tell the little boy's mother but I remembered a story my father-in-law told of how he and a neighbor boy were fighting. His father came out to help him and here came the boy's father. Soon the two fathers were fighting, and a policeman came along and stopped it. He cited them into court.

While the two fathers were in the courthouse my father-in-law and the neighbor boy were sitting on the steps, they were the best of friends. So, I tried to keep out of the kids' fights. But this time I was getting disgusted.

Her Dad came to the rescue.

"Okay," he said. "I'm going to teach you how to fight," and he did. He showed her how to box so she could protect herself.

"Now don't come crying to the house next time," Daddy said.

The next day it happened again. Lorraine was on her tricycle when the little bully pushed her off of it. She stood there crying and as I watched her I thought, "Oh, no, here she comes again."

But she started swinging and surprised both the little bully and me. She was crying so hard she couldn't see to punch him, but her arms were swinging as fast as a flag in a windstorm. The little boy stood back, obviously shocked.

The little bully gave the tricycle back to Lorraine and that was the last time he ever pushed her off of her trike. As a matter of fact they were the best of friends from that day on.