Politico to go: Second Passover without Mom

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Recently, there was an Internet video that became so popular it was shown on television news. It showed an overweight, bullied child who for the first time in his life fought back. This video touched me greatly because, while growing up, I was that fat kid who was bullied every day until I fought back (with a little help from my mom.)

One day in third grade, walking home from Mrs. Ritter's class, I was attacked by a bully. I can't tell you why but I chose that day to fight back, I learned that a fat kid could use his weight to pin a bully to the ground. There I was, sitting on top of Sheldon (I don't remember what I had for breakfast, but that kid's full name is tattooed on my brain.) That's when Mrs. K, Sheldon’s mom, arrived and kicked me in the nose to get me off her son.

One might think that's where the story ends, but there's more. My mom, of blessed memory, made me share details of the humiliation my proboscis received at the foot of Sheldon's mom. Without saying a word, mom raced to the cabinet over the oven and pulled out one of the many yellow-paged phonebooks. We never threw the old one out when we received a new one (hey they may forget to bring us one next year.)

Mom got Sheldon’s home address and said to me very abruptly "Get in the Car!" When mom gave an order you followed it without questions. She had the fastest backhand in the east. She would often demonstrate her prowess, you wouldn't see her hand move, only the telltale white (and then red) hand impression on my cheek. It happened often because, even back then, my wise guy gland was hyperactive.

We drove to Sheldon's house. Some of you may be wondering if I skipped the part about putting on a seat belt. Back then we had an automatic restraint system. When the car was making a jolting stop, mom's right arm (the one with the backhand) would stretch out in less than three nanoseconds to prevent a child from going through the windshield.

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