You and I are Too Old to Stand By and Watch An Old Person Get Bullied

Too Old for This Sh*t: How to Take Your Life Back from an Ageist Society

Photo by engin akyurt on Unsplash

America is becoming a land of bullies. What are we going to do about it?

The big man had Bob by the neck with one ham-sized fist. Bob was forced up against his car, the heavyset man screaming and spitting into his face.

From across the lot, I slammed on my brakes and grabbed my phone. I wouldn’t be able to either reach them in time or deal with a guy easily twice my bodyweight, full of white-hot rage and clearly out of control already.

What is a 70-year-old woman with osteopenia and dentures going to do with a 230-lb, out-of-control bully? Plenty, but not in a fist fight.

What was more important was that two other fully-grown men were already on their way over to intervene. I caught the tag end of the altercation on my phone, and enough identifying information to make a report.

The angry guy marched, shouting, pointing, threatening, towards the other two men. That’s also on video. Meanwhile Bob eased into his car and drove towards his trailer on the other side of the lot, where he lives as a National Park volunteer for the South Jetty dunes here in Oregon.

Bob’s old, disabled, one step away from homeless, a gentle soul with a service dog.

He’s also my friend.

My mama bear was in high gear.

I was as angry as a Yellowstone grizzly mama whose cubs were being chased by tourons.

I gunned my car and caught up with him as he parked next to his meager living conditions.

I’m heading to to the police station, I said.

Bob nodded, his face flushed and terrified.

Outside his trailer, his sweet goof of a service dog, Lola the Doberman, strained and whined to get at him. Bob was shaking. As one, they ducked into his refuge.

Damn I was mad. I despise bullies. I particularly get angry when bullies go after people who cannot protect themselves.

I spun around and headed for Florence, just a few miles away. This dune area is out of cell phone range, which was part of our problem.

Inside twelve minutes, the sheriff’s department was on their way, armed with a description of the man, his car, his buggy, details of the assault, and his license plate number.

I decided to stay away, let the sheriff’s office handle things, as too many people get in the way. This guy was out to do damage, he might have a gun, above all he wanted to hurt people. Anyone, apparently.

As it turned out, after he’d been confonted by the other men, realized that I had his license plate and was already on my way to get official backup, he packed up his buggy and spun out.

Bullies are always and forever cowards when the pros show up.

I called the sheriff’s office again an hour later to make sure Bob was safe. Turns out three different authorities had rushed to the scene. The search was on to find this guy. The other two buggy drivers had stuck around and agreed to be witnesses as well.

You can shout, but you may not assault.

People showing up for people.

Folks around Florence around here know and like Bob and his dog. They also know how precarious his situation is, and how isolated his little trailer is out at the South Jetty site. They give a damn.

Bob’s very fortunate, but he’s earned it out of kindness to everyone.

I headed back a little later to see Bob for a health check. Bob was still shaken up. Lola was protective. Now he’s scared that this guy might stalk him or show up in the night as so many cowards do.

Christ I’m pissed off.

The mama bear in me is just furious.

Photo by Maryna Kazmirova on Unsplash

Let me back up here and provide context.

Every Wednesday I hike the sand dunes just south of Florence, a sweet little town on the Central Oregon Coast. The forty-mile stretch of dunes swarms with buggies, a sport whichs draw all kinds of folks.

Most of those folks are polite, kind and mindful of the park rules.

Bob lives in a shaded corner of the parking lot in a trailer with Lola and a rescued Chihuahua. I’ve known him ever since I started rehabbing my busted hip out there back in September.

All over Oregon are host folks in trailers who volunteer at these parks. The volunteer work pays their way for an easy vacay all over this beautiful state. They enjoy the solitude of the parks, a place to have puppers and the relatively easy job of park maintenance.

Some are like Bob: short of a lot of dollars, elderly, can’t afford a home, but still wanting to work.

This volunteer job gives him a place to live, shelter, a responsibility, a quiet place to live and some gorgeous scenery.

The buggy enthusiasts like him as well because he maintains the toilets, keeps the place neat and loves everybody. And most folks love Lola; her service vest is obvious.

Every week I spend an hour hiking the nearby dunes. Then I swing by his trailer, do a few more laps, play with Lola and chat Bob up. He’s lonely out there but largely okay. A homeless woman named Annalee bicycles out regularly and makes sure he gets to the food pantry every week.

Help is a few miles down the road, but critically, out of cell range.

He makes his little corner of Oregon cheerful:

Bob’s Halloween decor

That cell phone issue is serious, because in all recreational crowds there are rule breakers and people with chips on their shoulders. Out at the sand dunes, there’s no way to call for help or an ambulance if there’s trouble. Someone has to get to town fast.

Yesterday, like all Wednesdays, I had finished my training laps on another part of the dunes by about 10 am. I stopped in to wish him a happy holiday.

Unusual for Bob, he was in his trailer, and Lola was chained up. He never does that on a pretty day with folks out on the dunes.

He explained that a few minutes before I had arrived, the big guy in question had gotten angry at Lola for chasing his dune buggy. She does that sometimes. She’s a big galooomph, but her service vest makes it clear she’s trained and safe.

This guy overreacted to the extreme.

Bob immediately got Lola on leash, which should have ended the altercation. The man threatened to kill the dog, then threatened Bob. It escalated from there.

Bob retreated to the relative safety of his trailer until I got there. He told me that he was going to ask the man to please play elsewhere. That’s his job, to keep the dunes safe for everyone.

He wanted me along as a witness.

Good thing I did.

You and I are Way Too Old to let bullies attack our peeps.

Bob and I both drove the short bit to the staging area- Bob has trouble walking - where the man’s obscenely large GMC truck sat.

I had a feeling I might need identification, so I took a photo of his license plate. The guy saw that and went utterly ballistic. He hurtled down the dune and straddled his buggy just on the other side of the wooden barrier fence, screaming incoherently at us for a few minutes.

I suspect he worried that Lola might be with us. Lola was still on a leash at the trailer.

We both watched him wave and scream and threaten for a while. I taped part of it for the record. The man was shouting about his $90k truck (which is relevant how?) and that he paid taxes and on and on and on.

In all fairness it was hard to tell whether this was alcohol, drugs, a psychotic break of some kind, PTSD or just sheer asshat rage. He was certainly competent enough to load up, unhook his buggy and drive around, so that makes me wonder, but that’s not my call.

All I cared about was the physical threat to my friend.

Bob told the man that he was welcome to ride the dunes but no longer at that location. As the official site host, Bob had every right to do just that.

I got in my car and started to drive out of the lot. At that point, the man was still on his buggy on the other side of the barrier fence. Apparently as soon as he realized the dog wasn’t with us, and all he had was Bob, he decided to attack.

By the time I reached the turn to leave the small lot and cast one last look over my shoulder, that’s when he had Bob by the neck and bent over Bob’s tiny car. In a matter of seconds, he had swooped in like a hyena.

You don’t f*ck with my friends, especially when they are old, frail, and in no kind of shape to fight back.

I’m in no kind of shape to take on a 230-lb raging bully, either.

There’s just dumb, as in weigh in and risk getting hurt or killed, or get to the authorities. I got just enough video to make my case, to make an identification.

Since there were two other men who were swiftly taking Bob’s side, I felt safe getting help- otherwise I’d have had a much harder choice to make.

The sheriff’s office asked for the details which will allow them to track this guy down. Plus three witnesses and my videos. The sad part is that Bob now feels threatened. His quiet spot is now a target, at least in his mind. He fears if this is a local, the guy might want to exact revenge.

What would you do?

I didn’t know until it happened.

Rule #1 in all such situations: document, memorize, notice, and report it to the authorities as swiftly as possible. Witnesses are notoriously unreliable,which is why photos and videos are so important.

Above all don’t become collateral damage.

All of us will stand up for Bob if anything happens. Bob knows that Lola probably shouldn’t be loose. Still, most likely, it wasn’t Lola. She was just the tipping point, my guess.

It might be meth, it might be PTSD, who knows.

Whatever this guy’s issue was, he was dangerous.

Worse, what was an idyllic situation for Bob now feels threatening, especially since he has no cell coverage in his tiny spot of Oregon heaven.

We are all hard-pressed to make an instant decision when someone is being attacked. What about if you’re on the subway and a woman is threatened by a man with a knife?

What if someone is being cornered by a gang?

What if you witness an older person being abused, threatened, as I did? Pushed down and kicked?

What about that spate of elderly Asian folks who were attacked in San Francisco?

What if a guy with a weapon came around this corner and attacked this couple?

Photo by micheile henderson on Unsplash

Maybe it’s my military background. Don’t care.

Each of us has to decide if we’re going to act in the face of bullying or violence, which is becoming an American sport.

I’m not having it.

Bob has my card and my commitment to show up for him in court if necessary. I will continue to check on him each week. Happily, there’s a community around him that now knows he might need more help.

Some day you and I might be like Bob. Conditions may change, we may find ourselves vulnerable. Who will stand up for us?

It might be your grands. Your favorite uncle. The guy who teaches you chess at the park. The old woman who waves at you from three doors down.

Will you stand up for the ones that bullies love to hurt because they can’t fight back?

Are you brave enough to intercede in some way, not knowing what’s up with the attacker?

Of course it’s terrifying. I sure was scared. But Bob was the one who was physically assaulted.

I’m all in for providing mental health care for my fellow vets and anyone else suffering from PTSD. I’m all in for having folks get the care they need if their mental worlds are being torn apart.

But I am not going to tolerate elder abuse, attacks on the vulnerable, no matter what someone’s excuse may be.

Let’s not let bullies play.

Make the world safe again.

Photo by Brittani Burns on Unsplash

This was a challenging post to write because I’m still reliving yesterday’s events. However it’s also important to call out and address those aspects of a less civil world where we are all called upon to do the right thing. What that looks like in any situation is going to be different.

I hope you are moved to do the right thing if you see wrong being done to those who have little to no recourse.

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Above all, be safe. A community that communicates, checks in on each other and keeps an eye out is a safe, happy community. I sincerely hope you have that.