Tag: The Beatles

The Beatles’s Song “Rain” as Melancholy Metaphor

Post author By Dr. Jeffrey Rubin
Post date October 31, 2023
2 Comments on The Beatles’s Song “Rain” as Melancholy Metaphor

Welcome to From Insults to Respect.

In today’s world, if you are experiencing melancholy or depression, the pharmaceutical industry very much wants to sell you on the idea that you have an abnormal condition that is deemed an illness. You would think with the popularity of the blues type of music, periods of bluesy feelings would be viewed as normal as trees in a forest; nevertheless, the pharmaceutical industry has successfully sold prescribing physicians it requires drug treatments.

These drugs have a number of side-effects, and for those who come to decide the drugs are either not working for them, or the side-effects are intolerable, many find that upon trying to stop taking them the withdrawal reactions are awful. And yet, these drug treatments are appealing to many people because of the ease of popping a pill, and health insurance either completely covers the cost, or reduces the cost to such an extent that they are very affordable. Moreover, it is a medical doctor who is prescribing these pills, and since doctors have such extensive training they are viewed as the experts, and people succumb to their advice without much thoughtful consideration.

With this in mind, in my view, if you can find a way to avoid the drugs and learn to make friends with these base notes of experiences, you potentially will be healthier in the long run. In several of my earlier posts (for examples see HERE and HERE), I provide numerous examples of people who found various experiences typically labeled as depression and melancholy as helpful. For example, Joshua Wolf Shenk in his biography of Abraham Lincoln, makes the case that his depression fueled his greatness. Similarly, the music legend, Joni Mitchell, upon discussing her frequent bouts of depression observed,

“Depression can be the sand that makes the pearl. Most of my best work came out of it. If you get rid of the demons and the disturbing things, then the angels fly off, too. There is the possibility, in that mire, of an epiphany.”

We learn further of Joni’s view of melancholy from her soulful rendition of her song “Hejira.” There she sings,

There’s comfort in melancholy
When there’s no need to explain
It’s just as natural as the weather
In the moody sky today

As another example, we learned in an earlier post that the great writer Leo Tolstoy came to understand his bouts with depression as crucial to his personal development as it provoked a gnawing questioning that eventually led to one insight after another.

The Beatles song, “Rain,” as I interpret it, provides us another expression of melancholy and depression as natural.

The Beatles’ song, “Rain”

This song was released on the 30th of May, 1966, as the B-side of The Beatles’s “Paperback Writer” single . According to Wikipedia, it was written by John Lennon although credited to the Lennon–McCartney partnership. It contains a slowed-down rhythm track, George Harrison’s distorted lead guitar, Ringo Starr’s nifty drumming, Paul McCartney’s droning bass line, and the last lines are vocals played backwards.

The first lines go:

If the rain comesThey run and hide their headsThey might as well be deadIf the rain comes

Here, the Beatles, it seems to me, are bemoaning how people view a rainy period negatively (They might as well be dead). Many people, when they have experiences referred to as melancholy and depression are similarly likely to interpret it as a negative, and they might as well be dead. This is often due, in part, to the way they were brought up.

There are parents who are not given to periods of sadness, anguish, and tears. For them, it’s “steady as she goes,” which is not a bad constitution to have. Their talent for averting their attention from evil, and living in the light of good offers benefits for our society for they can be counted on, day after day, to accomplish many tasks that have to be done for the smooth operation of our society. However, there is another constitution that complements this “steady as she goes” type.

Those with this complementary constitution experience far more acutely facts which strike them as wrong, and this wrongness is a genuine portion of reality. To them, rather than turning away from these feeling, their constitution has them staying with these feeling for an extended period so their life’s significance can be more deeply pondered and ultimately better understood. Though often nothing apparently positive comes from some of these periods, every now and then it serves to open their eyes to deeper levels of truth that end up benefiting them and society as a whole.

Now, when the “steady as they go” parents see their child feeling blue, this strikes them, from their perspective, as abnormal. These parents try to talk their child out of these sad experiences. A father seeing his little Susie not snapping out of her rainy day mood might even get testy, insisting he had enough of her whimpering. “Stop it already,” he may scream, “you’re acting like a horrible baby!” Offering a sympathetic ear would be far more helpful at such times, but children don’t get to pick parents who always act perfectly at all times.

Similarly, adults in general, if they have a “steady as they go” constitution, will readily accept the belief that they are the mentally healthy folks and anyone given to waves of bluesy feelings must have a mental illness.

Now, some of the folks who have a bluesy constitution may have learned to deal with their tumultuous feelings by trying to squelch them by drinking an excess amount of alcohol or consuming various other drugs. When this happens, they become at risk for a real physical illness from the toxic effects of these substances. Dealing with addictions can require support and the first part of that support is to come to understand that some people are given to bluesy moods, and that these moods are natural for them and has the potential to lead to something positive.

The next set of lines in “Rain” go,

When the sun shinesThey slip into the shade (when the sun shines down)And sip their lemonade (when the sun shines down)

When the sun shinesWhen the sun shines

RainI don’t mindShineThe weather’s fine

Here, the song contrasts the pleasantness of sunshiny days and the experience of rainy ones, which is also fine–different, but nevertheless fine in its own way. Metaphorically, we can come to experience our bluesy moods as a different type of mood that is also fine. We can come to learn that for many of us, melancholy is a period of time when, by feeling deeply about our various concerns, we process them more deeply than the more steadily happy folks. There are times when this processing leads to something creative. Biographies teach us that the most creative people are given to periods of melancholy and depression.

The next lines in the song go,

I can show youThat when it starts to rain (when the rain comes down)Everything’s the same (when the rain comes down)I can show youI can show you

RainI don’t mindShineThe weather’s fine

Here, the lines, it seems to me, are designed to encourage us to experience rain as every bit as an equal to a shiny day. It reminds me of a line from St. Basil–“Many a man curses the rain that falls upon his brow, and knows not that it brings forth abundance.” In my view, this is equally true for melancholy. Depression is a little different.

When people become depressed, they are prone to throw personal insults at themselves, typically choosing ones that have to do with feeling guilty about becoming depressed, past mistakes, being crazy, and being worthless. The psychiatric model has them thinking they have bad genes, a lifelong pathological condition, as well as having a condition that is stigmatizing. All of this leads to the person experiencing periods of self-loathing. As a result, they develop what some call a double depression–not only are they depressed, they are depressed that they are depressed.

In contrast, melancholy is a richer, and more powerful approach for addressing our concerns, even the most challenging ones. It doesn’t waste time with all of the insults, though, because of old habits, some may still leap into consciousness. When they do, those in melancholy can observe them without believing they are true. Rather, they recognize them as old unhelpful habits, allow themselves to experience the physical sensations that come with them, and then, when those sensations pass in their own good time, they move on to other emotional work that needs to be done.

The next few lines from the song are,

Can you hear me?That when it rains and shines (when it rains and shines)It’s just a state of mind (when it rains and shines)Can you hear me?Can you hear me?

Here, we are encouraged to view the experiences that come with rainy days and sunny days as just states of mind. This is equally true for uplifting days and days filled with angst.

Now I understand that some people who have reached such a deep level of self-loathing will find it hard to learn to transform their depression into the more natural and supportive state of melancholy. They may have experienced a trauma in their past so awful, they can’t seem to get beyond it. Feelings of getting relief by ending their life may intrude into their thoughts.

The natural ways to deal with this is to take daily walks, particularly in natural settings, talking with a supportive family member or friend, and getting enough sleep. The “Expressive Writing Technique” and meditation are very beneficial and cost free (See HERE for free descriptions of how to use these two techniques). Professional counseling and mindful self-compassion courses can help to get people through particularly challenging times.

The final few lines of “Rain are:

Sdeah reiht edih dna nur yehtSemoc niar eht fi (rain)Niar (rain)Senihs nus (rain)

These lines seem like nonsense words but are actually from a recording tape played backwards. Perhaps it’s meant to suggest that when we view rainy days as “we might as well be dead” we are viewing the experience backwards. Perhaps we would be better off to turn that idea around so it tells us to live fully even when the sun shines and when it rains, and appreciate the full spectrum of human experience.

My Best,

Jeff

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Some people will enjoy reading this blog by beginning with the first post and then moving forward to the next more recent one; then to the next one; and so on. This permits readers to catch up on some ideas that were presented earlier and to move through all of the ideas in a systematic fashion to develop their emotional intelligence. To begin at the very first post you can click HERE.

Tags conflict resolution, Depression, melancholy, The Beatles, The song "Rain

Asking for help conflict resolution The Beatles

Thoughts On The Beatles Song “Help”

Post author By Dr. Jeffrey Rubin
Post date January 28, 2022
7 Comments on Thoughts On The Beatles Song “Help”

Welcome to From Insults To Respect. Today we take a look at the experience of asking for help, which can be hard for some of us. As we do so, we’ll be utilizing the tremendously popular Beatles song, “Help” in order to bring to light some aspects of the experience in an entertaining manner.

The song was released as a single in the summer of 1965 and rocketed to the number 1 spot, as Beatles songs were apt to do. John Lennon passionately sings lead vocals, while getting ample help from his bandmates Paul McCartney, George Harrison, and Ringo Starr.

The song begins with John crying out,

(Help!) I need somebody
(Help!) Not just anybody
(Help!) You know I need someone
(Help!)

Here, I notice that although John is crying out for help, he well recognizes that he doesn’t want it from just anybody. Being selective is wise because some people who might provide assistance can make your life ever worse. Let’s keep that in mind as we move on to consider the song’s other lyrics.

The next lines of the song go like this:

When I was younger so much younger than today
I never needed anybody’s help in any way
But now these days are gone, I’m not so self assured
Now I find I’ve changed my mind and opened up the doors

Here John says in the song that when he was younger he never needed any help. This may appear a bit puzzling for a couple of reasons. First, according to his own statements quoted in various biographies, John received quite a bit of help from his Aunt Mimi while he was growing up. Second, John, when he was younger, invited Paul to join his band presumably because he felt Paul could be helpful. So, he not only got a great deal of help when he was younger, he specifically asked Paul for help. The song’s lyrics up to this point do not reflect this. The puzzle is solved by discovering that John, in the song, is not referring to needing just any type of help. Instead, he is referring to needing one particular type of help, as we learn in the next verse.

Help me if you can, I’m feeling down
And I do appreciate you being ’round
Help me get my feet back on the ground
Won’t you please, please help me?

Here we see that John, in the song, is referring to seeking help for feeling down. In John’s culture, young folks liked viewing themselves as tough and never needing any emotional help. Asking for assistance for this type of problem could be viewed as being a sissy. Given this cultural attitude, it was rather brave of him to come out with a song such as this.

In the next verse, John shares some additional feelings about this.

And now my life has changed in oh so many ways
My independence seems to vanish in the haze
But every now and then I feel so insecure
I know that I just need you like I’ve never done before

The fear of admitting that you are emotionally feeling down and insecure is understandable given the culture John, and many of the rest of us, are brought up in. Nevertheless, John reveals in this song these feeling to the world. He also tells us he appreciates someone who is around to help him through this.

It was quite an eye opener to me as a boy growing up in Brooklyn. Being the toughest person around was viewed as the ideal. To learn that John could not only boldly reveal feelings of being insecure, and yet he continued to be adored by his fans, meant something important to me.

The song’s popularity is due in part to it relating that even someone as popular as John can feel so down he cries out for help. It led many of us to become aware we are not alone upon having similar feelings. It also reveals that asking for help need not mean we will end up being disrespected. However, as the opening lines of the song suggest, we might not want to ask just anyone for help. How then, do we pick the right person for this type of assistance? Although the song succeeds in raising this enormously important issue, it leaves us to seek out the answer for ourselves.

Typically, if the person you choose really cares about you and is a good empathetic listener, this will be a reliable guide to choosing well. However, taking a few moments to consider whether or not there is a downside to your choice may be worthwhile. To make this point vivid, let me tell you about some scenes from the movie Kramer vs. Kramer.

In it, Dustin Hoffman is playing a character named Ted Kramer who is going through a tough divorce. Because his boss had been a caring and good listener in the past, whenever Ted discussed work related concerns, Ted chooses to share with him how down he is as a result of going through the divorce process. His boss tries to sound interested, but inwardly is bored. As Ted continues over the course of several days to share his emotional difficulties with his boss, more and more boredom arises and he begins to doubt that Ted is going to be able to handle his job responsibilities as well as he had in the past. Ted ends up getting fired.

So, let this be a cautionary tale that motivates you to consider for a few moments whether or not there is a downside to whom you are leaning toward confiding with during hard times.

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Some people will enjoy reading this blog by beginning with the first post and then moving forward to the next more recent one; then to the next one; and so on. This permits readers to catch up on some ideas that were presented earlier and to move through all of the ideas in a systematic fashion to develop their emotional and social intelligence. To begin at the very first post you can click HERE.

Tags Asking for help, Confiding with others, The Beatles

conflict resolution Dealing with rejection Feeling rejected

On Being Booed

Welcome to From Insults to Respect. Today we consider the experience of being booed, along with some suggestions on how to handle it. We begin with a rather famous booing example.

Getting Booed at Madison Square Garden

For those of us growing up in the 1950’s and 60’s, Ricky Nelson was a teenage idol. Some would, at the time, have picked Elvis Presley as the teenage idol, but for me, Ricky was right up there with Elvis,

My generation first got to know Ricky when he was 8 years old as one of the stars of the TV series, The Adventures of Ozzie and Harriet. In 1957, upon turning 17, he began his long and successful career as a popular recording artist.

Ricky placed 53 songs on the Billboard Hot 100 between 1957 and 1973, including “Travelin’ Man” (#1), “Poor Little Fool” (#1), “Teenage Idol” (#5), and “Hello Mary Lou” (#9). He was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame on January 21, 1987.

As you can imagine, Ricky was used to warm and wild applause when he performed. But then, on October 15, 1971, many of the early rock stars, including Chuck Berry, George Harrison, John Lennon, and Little Richard, as well as Ricky, joined together to put on a concert at Madison Square Garden, billed as “The Garden Party.” When it was Ricky’s turn to perform, he chose to play The Rolling Stones’ “Honky Tonk Women,” and the crowd began to boo. Those at the concert reported that the booing was not directed to Ricky’s performance, but rather, to police who were dealing with some disturbance. Nevertheless, Ricky thought the booing was directed at him because he no longer looked like a teenager and his hair had grown long; or perhaps it was because he chose to play a song that was not one of his own earlier hits.

Adding to Ricky’s embarrassment of being booed, the press had written up the event in a rather cold hearted manner, stating he had been booed off stage. Ricky, in an interview available on YouTube, said that for a period after being booed it was like a dark cloud in the back of his mind. How did he handle this? Did he deny his feelings and try to escape from giving any thought to it, kinda like Linus does in the following cartoon:

In contrast to Linus’s technique, Ricky, in addition to recognizing he had been having waves of feeling blue, he began to write about the experience. Eventually, he placed those words into a song titled “Garden Party,” which reached #6 on the Billboard Hot 100 and #1 on the Billboard Adult Contemporary chart and was certified as a gold single.

Let’s take a quick look at a few of its lyrics:

I went to a garden party
To reminisce with my old friends
A chance to share old memories
And play our songs again

When I got to the garden party
They all knew my name
No one recognized me
I didn’t look the same

But it’s all right now
I learned my lesson well
You see ya can’t please everyone
So ya got to please yourself

……

Played them all the old songs
Thought that’s why they came
No one heard the music
We didn’t look the same

I said hello to “Mary Lou”
She belongs to me
When I sang a song about a honky-tonk
It was time to leave

……

Ricky’s First Draft of Garden Party Lyrics

If you gotta play at garden parties
I wish you a lotta luck
But if memories were all I sang
I rather drive a truck

But it’s all right now
I learned my lesson well
You see, ya can’t please everyone
So ya got to please yourself

There are several additional stanzas in the song that are evocative of what it was like being at the Garden Party, but you get the general idea.

Because I was a big fan of Ricky’s during my teenage years, I followed his career as described in several interviews. Apparently he had a great deal of success playing at many county fairs, at times pulling in crowds of twenty thousand fans. I saw Ricky perform to a full house crowd at Minneapolis’s Guthrie Theater in 1982, three years before he died in a plane crash. The theater has 1,200 seats. His set was a fine mix of old songs and new, and judging from the applause, the audience loved it, and I did too.

Ricky Is Not the only Rock Star to Be Booed

Bob Dylan, after having great success writing and performing Woody Guthrie-influenced folk music, began in 1965 introducing some rock & roll songs into his sets. His folk fans were not at all happy about this, and their boos were unmerciful. Nevertheless, Bob kept playing the music he wanted to play, and he eventually found a new, much larger, audience that loved his new material. Eventually he impressed the Nobel Prize Committee so much that its members awarded him their prize for literature.

Lest you think the Beatles, arguably the greatest rock & roll band ever, somehow managed to escape the experience of being booed, think again. By 1966, they were far and away the most popular band in history, and then John Lennon, during an interview, in an off the cuff comment, stated, “We’re more popular than Jesus.” This led to people threatening to kill the band members, and newscasts showed people flinging Beatle albums into fires. John eventually apologized, and soon after, the Beatles recorded several number one hit singles and the enormously popular album Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band, considered by many the greatest album ever.

What Can We Learn From These Booing Experiences?

Some people who experience a booing experience come to think it is the end of the world, and they will never recover from their feelings of rejection. To each of them, I want to suggest that, as these three stories of rock & roll stars suggest, there is at least a chance that you will recover. Just keeping that possibility alive can be enormously helpful.

Moreover, as the story of Ricky Nelson suggests, by experiencing the waves of black clouds, and perhaps writing about the experience, you very well might learn something of value and come up with something creative for a future presentation.

In fact, expressive writing has demonstrated in research studies to improve health outcomes and to reduce the anguish people experience during episodes of depression. You can find the research supporting the expressive writing technique by clicking here and here.

The technique involves writing over the course of four days, for a minimum of 15 minutes at each sitting, about something that has led to your challenging emotional experience. As you do so, make sure you include not only what happened, but also what you felt when it happened, and how you now feel about what happened. Include your deepest emotions and thoughts about what occurred. Really let go and explore your feelings and thoughts about it. As you do so, recall the sensory experience of these feelings, not just the words that define the experience. In your writing, you might tie this experience to your childhood, your relationship with your parents, people you have loved or love now, or even your career. Explore, as well, how this experience is related to whom you would like to become, whom you have been in the past, or whom you are now.

Another thing we might want to consider from Ricky’s story is the attitude, “You can’t please everyone so you gotta please yourself.” Now, if you are seeking to earn a living from your presentations, this attitude doesn’t mean you can’t try to come up with a way to please yourself and also please your audience. Ricky couldn’t be pleased with himself if he had to just sing his old hits. For him, mixing in his old songs with new ones was essential, and he soon found a way to earn an enjoyable living doing that.

What can we learn from Bob Dylan’s experience with booing? Well, he also recovered from it, and the rest of us can too. And we also can learn that sometimes what we have to offer might be excellent, but not suited to a particular audience. Giving some thought on how to connect with the specific audience you want to reach makes sense.

Bob has an interesting approach to coming up with songs that are interesting to both himself and his audience.

As he explains on one of his Theme Time Radio Hour shows, whenever he wants to come up with new material, he goes out into the world and sees what people are talking about. If the topic is something that has captured their interest, and if it is of interest to him as well, he soon finds himself writing a song about it. Of course, he adds a little creative flair to it, and this seems to work for him. Like Bob, I have found that when I think about what to write for new posts, listening to what others are currently talking about with interest can be helpful.

As for the Beatles, the lesson here might be that if you offend some folks during your effort to connect with an audience, perhaps a humble apology might help to ease some of the anger. Then, get on with doing your best to come up with fresh, interesting new material.

So, there you have it, some thoughts about dealing with the booing experience. I hope you found some of the ideas helpful, and that you will soon join us once again right back here at From Insults to Respect.

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Tags Bob Dylan, Feeling Rejected, Getting booed, Ricky Nelson, The Beatles

anger bullying conflict management conflict resolution insults jealousy Mickey Mantle Name calling respect social intelligence wisdom

How I Met Cool Steve

Regular readers of this blog know that to illustrate an idea, I usually utilize a comic strip or a brief parable. To fully integrate all of the ideas that appear in the blog, I’ve created a coming of age trilogy of novels that is set in Brooklyn that my students over the years have coined The Cool Steve Stories, because one of the main characters is “Cool Steve.”

Novels are perfect for illustrating subtle ideas but the vast majority of blog readers have no desire to read a post that long. And so, to deal with this challenge, from time to time I post a short story based on a chapter from one of my novels.

Today’s short story is an abbreviated version of a chapter from the second novel in the trilogy, Fights in the Streets, Tears in the Sand.

How I Met Cool Steve

When I graduated from Boody Junior High back in the sizzling summer of 1965, I had one major problem—every time I tried to get the kids to respect me I ended up making more and more enemies. If you would have asked me back then why respect was important to me, well, I guess I would have muttered a few of my choicest Brooklyn curses and then, well, I guess I would have said, “All I know is that when people treat me with respect it feels good, and when people treat me disrespectfully it feels like I ate something rotten. So there! Ya wanna make somethin’ out of it?!”

* * *

That summer, I moved to a new neighborhood and I was going to start a new school—Lincoln High. I figured no one knows me there, so this is my big chance to turn myself around.

My new neighborhood was pretty cool. It was just a few blocks from the beach and Coney Island. In ten minutes I could walk to the Cyclone, far and away the greatest roller coaster ever.

And so, I began summer vacation feeling hopeful, but as the new school year began to close in on me, I started getting pretty nervous. And when the day before school arrived I’m sitting in my room strumming my guitar while thinking about getting real sick for a few years. I wonder how long I could play up that angle to avoid school altogether. My stomach’s been out of whack for the past few days anyway, so it wouldn’t be much of a stretch to take it up another level.

Each lick of my guitar is a pounding of my old enemies, and then, all of a sudden, notions of respect get thrown in as well, creating a wild, pounding drum beat in sync with my wild, pounding heart. My strumming gets louder.

Hey, maybe I can get some respect for my musical talent.

“Jeff, quiet down in there!” Mom screams. “For crying out loud, you’re giving me a headache!”

“You’re giving me a headache!” I scream back while throwing my guitar down on my bed. I storm out of my apartment and pound the elevator call button. When it arrives, I punch the lobby button and then start kicking the walls.

* * *

Once in the street, I walk aimlessly as steam hisses out of my ears. Along Ocean Parkway I pass Lincoln High and shudder. Under the Belt Parkway overpass I notice pigeons up in the beams hiding in crevices. As I continued on with my walk, slowly I begin to settle down.

* * *

Well, you can kiss that summer vacation goodbye, I say to myself while setting my alarm clock so I won’t be late for my first day at Lincoln. Within minutes of shutting my light, worries begin to invade my mind, buzzing about like flies. Man, school’s gonna suck!

Sleepless minutes go by like hours, and hours stretch out into eternities. I check my alarm clock at midnight, again at one and two.

And then, suddenly, an idea explodes upon me, followed by madly rushing thoughts. That’s it! That’s it! At Lincoln I’ll first play a real quiet type and not reveal anything about myself. And while I do that, I’ll secretly carry out a careful investigation to determine who the kids at Lincoln already respect. By keeping my eyes open and my mouth shut, I bet I can learn something useful before the kids get to know me.

But moments after this plan has rolled in with its initial high hopes, a dark cloud of doubt begins to cast its dismal shadow. Yeah, well if I carry out that stupid plan everyone’s gonna think I’m just copying the guy everyone respects. I’ll be nothing but a rotten copycat.

More tossing and turning. Three o’clock comes and goes.

And then, suddenly I sit up in bed fully awake, and my mind cries out, Wait! There was this director I worked with in a play once and I remember him saying how a great actor takes what he learns from other actors and then brings something of himself to a role, something that makes it fresh and unique. Maybe I can create something new based on someone else. Maybe.

* * *

I arrive on my first day at Lincoln at seven-twenty a.m., with a pencil, a loose-leaf notebook, and a sensationally queasy stomach. Out front students are gathered together in clusters. So far I don’t see anyone I know. Good.

Most students are dressed in outfits that appear more freshly bought than what is seen by mid-school year. The stores offering back to school sales must have had a banner year.

The first bell rings and resonates deep in my unsettled bowels. In unison, students head for their homeroom. I look down at my class schedule that I received in the mail a few weeks ago. It indicates in distinct black typewriter letters that I have to go first to HOMEROOM 324. Okay, I guess that means I better find a stairway up to the third floor. Man, I thought my junior high had big crowded hallways. They were minor league compared to this!

Here’s an up-stairway. As I traipse along, I try to listen to the conversations going on around me to see if I can find some clue about who the kids respect. There are a couple of cute girls in front of me.

“Did you see the Beatles last night on the Ed Sullivan show?” asks one.

“Definitely!”

“Who do you like better, John Lennon or Mick Jagger?”

“Oh, John’s my dreamboat!”

“Don’t you think Mick’s cuter?”

It looks like the ladies go for rockers, I think to myself. Maybe I ought to start practicing guitar more.

* * *

A couple of periods later, I’m heading to biology and some guy behind me says to someone next to him, “Hey, Cool Steve’s in my health class!”

“Cool Steve! Really?!

“Yeah! He sat right next to me.”

“Damn! Hey, tell him I say hi.”

There’s an excitement that accompanies this dialogue that somehow has me going, hmmm.

* * *

Lunchtime. I’m not really hungry, but my schedule says that’s where me and hoards of others are supposed to go so we find the down stairwell and dutifully march along.

Harsh smells of recently mopped floors, day old tuna, sour milk, low grade cheeseburgers, and the like kick my appetite for a loop.

Where should I sit? Remember to keep a quiet profile. There are some cool looking kids at this table. I start to sit down.

“Sorry, we’re saving these seats for some friends,” says one of the guys.

I nod and move on. Man, I hate school.

A few tables away, I spot an open seat next to a kid reading a story in Sports Illustrated with a great shot of Mickey Mantle. The Mick’s neck and forearms are bulging as he’s clobbering a monster home run.

“Anybody got this seat?” I ask while preparing myself for another rejection.

Looking up from his magazine, the guy looks me over for a couple of seconds, and then replies, “Sit down. I’m Cliff Schweitzer.”

“Hi Cliff, thanks. I’m Jeff Star.”

“Hi, Jeff. Say, who do you have for history?”

After checking my schedule card, I answer, “Mr. Lofton.”

“Is he any good?”

“I don’t know. I have him for the first time in a couple of periods from now.”

“I got stuck with Mr. Putzmeister,” Cliff says mournfully.

“Putzmeister!” I reply with a smile. “That his real name?”

“Yeah, and never was there a more fitting name for a teacher. I got to get out of there. He is so boring!”

“Well, it’s history, Cliff. How interesting can it be?”

“History is my favorite class, Jeff. My dad’s a history professor at New York University so that’s what we both love. And now to get stuck with Mr. Putzmeister!” This kid, Cliff, is digging his fingernails into his forehead like he’s getting ready to commit suicide.

“Try talking ta someone in the office. All you’re interested in is history?”

“Well, to me, a branch of history is ‘The world of sports,’ and I love sports. In fact, I’m writing a column for the school newspaper. It’s called the ‘Sports Scene.’ The first issue comes out on Friday. Check it out. Let me know what you think.”

While we’re talking, we hear a kid from a nearby table, yelling, “Ya wouldn’t dare do this ta Cool Steve! Why ya doing it ta me?”

I turn to Cliff. “That’s the second time I heard this name, Cool Steve. You wouldn’t happen ta know him?”

“Yeah, from Cunningham,” he answers, referring to one of the junior high schools that feed into Lincoln. “I guess most of the kids who know him, know him from there.”

“There seems to be some kind of respect thing connected to him.”

“Respect? Steve? Well, yeah.”

“You respect him?”

“Oh, yeah!”

“How come?”

“Well, I guess for me it’s got something to do with the fact that he’s the best athlete I’ve ever personally known. In baseball he’s got explosive power and a rocket arm, and in football he’s got lightning speed and incredible hands. He’s… he’s history in the making. He’s just incredible, I mean incredible! But, um… I got a feeling people would respect Steve even if he wasn’t so great in sports.” Then Cliff’s voice kind of trails off and he looks like he’s searching for a more complete answer, but before he gets to it, a guy sitting beside him asks to borrow his Sports Illustrated.

“Let me just finish this story,” Cliff responds, and he quickly buries his nose in his magazine.

* * *

After school lets out, I walk to Rocco’s Pizzeria over on Brighton Beach Avenue. Rocco is fixing up a new pie. I take in deeply the familiar aroma of baking dough, oregano, cheese, and Rocco’s underarms.

With two slices in hand, I discover none of the tables are empty. At one of them is this guy Brainy George sitting by himself with his blond hair looking like it hasn’t been combed in months. I had met him earlier in the day in my gym class and noticed he sat at the same lunch table as Cliff Schweitzer, the sports writer. “How come they call him Brainy George?” I had asked one of the guys in gym.

“Da guy’s a freakin’ genius,” came the reply.

With nowhere else to sit, I ask if he’d mind if I sat across from him.

He looks up with these large thick glasses and nods his okay. “You were in gym today,” he says as I sit down.

“Yeah.”

“I hate gym.”

“You do?”

“Can’t stand it—all the idiots trying to prove they’re Mr. Atlas.”

“Hmmmm.” Personally, to me gym is a whole lot better than the rest of the garbage we gotta take at school. Rather than saying this I maintain my quiet portrayal. The pizza is still a bit hot so I blow on it and take my first bite. Mmmmm! “What junior high did you go to?” I ask.

“Cunningham.”

“That’s the same junior high as this kid Cool Steve. I guess ya think he’s an idiot since he’s into sports.”

“Steve? Naaa. Steve’s different than the guys I’m talking about.”

“Izzat so?”

“Yeah. I like Steve because, well first of all, he’s not one of those idiots who pick on me because I can’t run as fast as the other guys. And I like the way Steve’s gutsy. He’s not afraid to stand up for what he believes in. And it’s the way he carries himself… the way he moves. I don’t know… I… I just have a lot of respect for Steve.”

There’s that word again—‘respect.’ Well, being gutsy shouldn’t be too hard, I think to myself. Hell, I was gutsy enough to get into lots of fights in my old school. But I don’t quite know what to make of this stuff about the way Steve moves.

* * *

My second day at Lincoln—the wide-eyed exuberance of students on day one has turned into a ‘Do I really have to be here?’ look.

After finishing my lunch, I go sit on the steps of Lincoln’s main entrance. It’s warm and the sun is shining. Several students including Cliff Schweitzer, the sports writer, and Brainy George, the genius, come by and sit down next to me. With them are these two attractive girls.

I find myself magnetically pulled toward the girls. How can I get introduced? Be careful. You don’t want to blow the quiet image.

I nudge George and conspicuously look at each of the girls.

First, he points to the one closest to him, “She’s Sandy.” Sandy’s cute, with apricot-tan shoulders, a peachy complexion, and long, wavy, sandy-blond hair. She glances at me and smiles.

Then George, he points to the girl sitting next to Sandy. “That’s Mysterious Jane.”

“Mysterious Jane?” I ask.

“Well, they call Mysterious Jane, Mysterious Jane, because she’s strange,” George explains.

She might be strange, I think to myself, but she’s gorgeous. She has long, straight, glossy black hair that slightly covers her prominent cheekbones, and falls freely upon her voluptuous shoulders and breasts. Her green, almond shaped eyes have a thin line of black mascara and perhaps within these glimmering eyes there is a hint of some sort of mysteriousness.

Jane looks at me, gives me a slight nod, and resumes a conversation that she is having with George.

All of a sudden something catches Sandy’s attention and she cries, “Who’s that gorgeous guy?”

Mysterious Jane turns with her large green eyes in the direction that Sandy is looking—down the steps and off to the right. She lets out a long sigh. “Oh, that’s Cool Steve.”

“Ain’t he built!” Sandy squeals. “You know him?”

“Yeah, from Cunningham,” Jane replies. “All the girls were nuts about him because, well, a lot of the girls say it’s because he’s so cute. And he is cute, especially his eyes. I l-o-o-v-e his eyes.” This is followed by a moan and she then drifts off into another dimension.

Sandy pokes Mysterious Jane, returning her back to Earth. Jane looks over to Sandy, lowers her voice to an eerie whisper and says, “If you want to know the truth, the real reason all the girls are crazy about Steve is because he moves with the grace and power of a large panther, but he has far more power than any panther you’ve ever seen.”

I think to myself, that Mysterious Jane, she’s strange!

Watching Steve down the steps, I can’t notice him moving in any special way. I do notice that he’s tall with dark eyes and hair, like me. But compared to me, Steve is broader and has more of a Paul Newman nose.

Well, I refuse to get my nose fixed, but if I put on a few pounds and start lifting weights, I bet it might help. I’m way too skinny.

“Aaaaa, he’s nothing special,” I declare, feeling a little jealous of the way the girls are looking at him.

“All of the students sitting on the steps turn to me. “Nothing special,” says Mysterious Jane with a smile, and with that, everyone around me laughs.

* * *

A couple of hours later I’m walking out the south side exit of Lincoln heading home for the day. Man, I’m pissed! I can’t believe how much homework that stupid biology teacher gave me! Suddenly I hear, “Hey, Jeff Star!”

I turn to my left and spot Cliff calling after me. “Jeff, that guy Steve you were asking about,” Cliff calls out, “well, here he is.”

There, standing by Cliff is Cool Steve with a smile on his face. As I walk over, I’m feeling a completely unfamiliar nervousness. What’s he smiling about? I think to myself. Cool Steve! Cool Idiot if you ask me. And then, when I open my mouth, I find myself saying in a loud tough voice, “So you’re Steve. I’ve been hearing about you. The word is you’re a Jerk!”

As I glare at Steve, with his Mack Truck shoulders, my heart pounds furiously. From the corner of my eye I notice Steve’s friend, Cliff, watching on, his mouth closed so tight he seems to have no lips. His words from yesterday come to mind—“Steve’s the best athlete I’ve ever personally known.”

Big deal! I’m ready to go at him.

I’m waiting for an angry come on, or a quick jab from his right. My muscles are as tight as a hangman’s noose.

I notice several students who were walking home from school have put on their brakes, and their eyes are flashing back and forth between me and Steve.

Steve’s eyes lower, his forehead creases. Then his eyes look into mine and I see, instead of fury, sadness. “I guess,” he begins to say haltingly, “well… I was hoping… you know… starting a new school here… well, I was hoping the guys would like me.”

Those dark, glimmering eyes of his….

“Jeff,” says Cliff, “why did you say that?”

My eyes dart to him and back to Steve. Cold perspiration beads up on my forehead. The students looking on are almost drooling. What should I do?

Uncomfortably, I find myself shifting my stance as I look into Steve’s eyes…the sadness there…eyebrows down. They look like they are on the verge of becoming watery as he looks directly into my eyes, then down, and then back up into mine. My fury begins to turn into a feeling of downright stupidity. “Listen Steve, I… I don’t know why I said that… everyone I talked wit’ said you were okay.” I take a quick glance at Cliff and the other students watching on…and then hurry away.

* * *

A few minutes later, I’m pushing the elevator button in my apartment lobby. Jeez, I just made a great impression, I think to myself, a wonderful great impression. Steve’s eyes… man, who is this guy?

In junior high, whenever I started to put someone down, I got returned insults and fistfights. Such reactions would turn me into a raving lunatic. Now, with the way Steve acted, I don’t know how to respond to his quiet sadness.

——————————-

Some people will enjoy reading this blog by beginning with the first post and then moving forward to the next more recent one; then to the next one; and so on. This permits readers to catch up on some ideas that were presented earlier and to move through all of the ideas in a systematic fashion to develop their emotional intelligence. To begin at the very first post you can click HERE.

Tags anger, bully, conflict, conflict management, conflict resolution, Cool Steve, criticism, disrespectful, free social intelligence and emotional intelligence curriculum, insults, John Lennon, Mick Jagger, Mickey Mantle, psychological maturity, respect, The Beatles, violence, wisdom