I lived on U.S. 30 east of Lima, Ohio in the late 1960s. Dad had hornswoggled someone into renting him a home with an option to buy after twelve months. For one year, the Gerencsers lived in a new tri-level home, complete with a brand-new Pontiac Bonneville convertible in the garage. Almost sixty years later, the house is showing its age, and seems small compared to what I envisioned as a child.
Lots happened my fourth/fifth-grade year [we moved to Farmer halfway through my fifth grade year]:
- My younger brother fell off his bike and knocked out his two front teeth.
- My younger brother also closed his eyes when trying to catch a baseball, catching the ball with his nose. The fracture required surgery to repair.
- My father embezzled $10,000 from the insurance company he worked for at the time.
- Dad was investigated by the ATF for illegally selling firearms at gun shows.
- Dad started having an affair with an unknown woman.
- Mom tried to kill herself by driving the Bonneville into a truck.
- Mom tried to kill herself by overdosing on prescription drugs.
- Mom tried to kill herself by slitting her wrists. I came home from school and found her lying in a pool of blood.
- I tripped over a kindergartner on the playground, driving a rock into my knee. This required five stitches to repair.
That’s enough living for a ten-year-old boy. Not that anyone asked. I don’t ever remember a time when my parents asked my opinion about anything. Dad would come home and saying we were moving — end of discussion. As most kids from dysfunctional homes do, I learned to adapt. Sadly, growing up this way has made it hard for me to feel like I belonged. Every year or two, we moved to a new community. I hoped we would finally find a place to call home. That never happened The longest we lived in one community was two and a half years.
Dad was rarely home, and Mom subscribed to “out of sight, out of mind” parenting. Out of sight meant “go outside and play. I’ll call you (holler) when it is time to eat.” I spent most daylight hours outside, as long as it was warm enough to do so. You know, more than 25 degrees. 🙂
I was a country kid. I enjoyed wandering nearby fields and stands of trees. I had a love for wildlife, including hunting and fishing. One day, as I walked into the garage, I caught sight of a mouse scurrying out of the corner of the garage. I decided to “catch” the mouse. I spent ten minutes or so chasing the mouse around the garage. Eventually, I cornered him and bent over to pick him up. Just as my fingers touched the soft fur of the young mouse, he lunged forward and bit me. I howled, and off he ran, safe from that redheaded boy. I wouldn’t have hurt the mouse, but he didn’t know that. The mouse did what animals do when threatened: he fought back.
This is a lesson I have never forgotten. I have passed it on to our six children and sixteen grandchildren. What was that lesson, you ask? “Don’t try to catch a mouse”? No, the important lesson to learn was this: When you corner an animal and give them no way out, they will defend themselves. Every year, scores of Americans die from being gored, trampled, or bitten by cornered animals. Is the animal to blame? Of course not. Animals do what animals do, and humans are no different.
Currently, President Donald Trump is trying to bully various nation-states into submission. He uses tariffs, the Justice Department, Homeland Security, and military intervention to back people and nations into a corner, thinking they will give him what he wants — money and power. What this stupid man refuses to understand is that actions have consequences. So Trump continues to push people and nations until they snap, biting him on the hand. What did he expect would happen? I fear that he will one day push and push and push, to the point where an alleged “enemy” fears the loss of power and control or the loss of economic well-being. And when this happens, Trump shouldn’t be surprised if the proverbial mouse bites him on the hand. All of us are dangerous when we lose all hope. Push Iran into a corner, what do you think they will do? Say uncle? I doubt it.
We live in dangerous times. It remains to be seen if we will survive the actions of the lunatic currently inhabiting the White House.
Bruce Gerencser, 69, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 48 years. He and his wife have six grown children and thirteen grandchildren. Bruce pastored Evangelical churches for twenty-five years in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Bruce left the ministry in 2005, and in 2008 he left Christianity. Bruce is now a humanist and an atheist.
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