One day when my sister, Kathy, was around four-years-old, she came running to Mom with a sad, sad tale.

It seems there was a pint-sized bully causing problems for the neighborhood children. He had actually hit Kathy, which was what sent her running.

Mom, recognizing an opportunity to instill some assertiveness and self-reliance in her daughter told her, “You get right back out there and you hit him back.” (Hey, people from the eastern Kentucky hills, even those transplanted to Ohio, don’t back down!)

A little later, Kathy came into the house, still upset. “What happened?” my Mom asked. “Did you hit him back?”

My sister started crying. “I couldn’t hit his back,” she wailed. . .

“So, I hit his front!”

Kathy, circa bully-thumpin’

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