"...Filling Empty Spaces With The Cries Of Others...Since 1961..."

Amanda Todd committed suicide.

But there were three things that killed her.





There have always been bullies.

Mine was named Jay.

The year was 1961.

I was ten.

He was a year or two older, a foot, or what seemed like two, taller and zeroed in on making my elementary school day miserable.

His torment took the form of punching me in the arm and "daring me" to do something about it.

I never did.

Eventually, it just stopped.

I don't remember why.

And I honestly don't remember what happened to Jay.

Although my guess is that he probably ended up producing reality shows.

I do remember, though, that there were two things that weren't a factor in my long ago story that played an obvious and ultimately tragic part in the story of Amanda Todd.

One was the mob mentality.

I really don't recall any of my playground peers "joining in" the torment. Possibly because the need to be a "part of the pack" hadn't yet come to the full bloom it has grown into today.

Possibly because Jay was sufficently daunting that the other kids instinctively knew the smart play was to walk away, lest they be the next shoulder Jay would try to lean on.

Or punch on.

So while my ordeal seemed very real at the time, it really boiled down to nothing more than a little mano y mano, or kid y kid, as the case may be.

And because bullies, like politicians and faded radio personalities, tend to lose interest when the spotlight isn't sufficiently bright, Jay eventually wore out before he could eventually wear me down.

In the end, I simply benefitted from being able to run out the clock.

The second of the two things, though, was probably what saved me.

There was no Facebook.

 "Social networking" consisted of whatever hanging out we did at each other's house.

And the "grapevine" was little more than whispers amongst our small little groups.

As a result, there was no way to become "famous" beyond whatever "fame" could be achieved by being the biggest jerkwad in the fourth grade at High Street Elementary School.

Fast forward to 2012.

And given the evolution of "social networking" and the ability to ramp up the wattage on any spotlight we'd like to shine on ourselves, fame becomes a major player in any social scenario.

And fame, like whiskey, has a way of both seducing and empowering any one who gets a taste, motivating them to inflict pain and suffering in order to build a national audience.

Especially sad, lonely, pitiful people like Jay who just want to be important but can't seem to find a way to do it beyond tormenting others.

All of the professionals who will continue to advocate "more education for our young people" about bullying are, in my humble o, missing a critically important point.

Kids already know plenty about bullying.

It's been around for a long, long time.

At least since 1961 to my knowledge.

What needs to happen here, before the next tormented child makes a video and then pulls the plug, is for us to somehow slow the flow of the whiskey.

Three things killed Amanda.

Bullying.

The mob mentality.

The taste of fame.

Maybe her video will help teach kids how bitter that taste really can be.