The world can be a scary place to a little kid, a place where bullies lurk around every corner, schoolyard and public park. The lucky ones have somebody who has their back, a protector, an older sibling, perhaps.
I was fortunate to have such a champion, my older sister June, aka “Big Sis.”
Although she was only 19 months older than me, June fancied herself as Mama Bear, and I was her vulnerable cub, “Little Lynnie.”
On the surface there was nothing big or intimidating about June (she was 5-foot nothin’ full grown), but when provoked she morphed into a version of Cocaine Bear.
And it wasn’t just me who enjoyed June’s protection. We shared the same bus route with some handicapped children who were too often targets of bullies until June came along.
The first time she saw a bully making fun of a disadvantaged child, June introduced herself and stated her position in no uncertain terms, something along the lines of, “How would you like your nose relocated next to your ear?”
Exit bully.
A legend was born that day, June The Enforcer, and to think she was considering life as a nun. The vision of her in a nun’s habit with a rosary in one hand and a paddle in the other is … well, something that would keep a Catholic school child awake at night.
Wielding a paddle would have been effortless for June, who had a baseball swing that was the envy of even the boys in the neighborhood.
Living close to Packard Park on Fort Wayne’s south side, you could find her and me on the ball diamond on many a summer day in the early 1960s. In pickup games, June usually was chosen long before me. She could hit the ball in the gaps while I was a few years away from hitting the ball hard enough to get it cleanly through the infield.
Once upon a time
at the old ballpark …
On days when there weren’t enough players to make a game, the two of us were perfectly content to shag grounders and fly balls, and we welcomed anybody to join us.
On one particular day, we were approached by three boys about the same age as us, anywhere from 9 to 13. They wanted to play ball but had no equipment. They wanted ours. Demanded ours. We declined. Negotiations ceased.
You couldn’t blame them for their boldness — three against two with one of the two being a girl. Of course, they didn’t know they were dealing with Big Sis.
With much bravado the oldest boy dispatched the two younger ones to relieve June of her bat and glove while he was in the process of separating me from my glove. For a moment there was a tug of war with the bat, with June having her hands on the handle while the two younger boys had their hands on the barrel.
Little did they know, the volcano was about to blow.
Picture a couple of toy poodles in a tug of war against a pit bull. Advantage pit bull. With a mighty grunt Big Sis ripped the bat away. Right then it dawned on those puppies that the object in June’s hands was no rolled-up newspaper.
This called for an exit strategy. Wisely, they chose to flee.
Meanwhile, I deployed my best takedown move against my assailant, only to wind up flat on my back with him squatting on top of me. I was able to squirm out of that predicament, but the only thing either of us accomplished from there was to get grass stains on our blue jeans.
Realizing neither of us was getting the upper hand, we paused to see what was going on with the pit bull and the poodles.
Their worst nightmare
By then Big Sis was in full Enforcer mode as she chased after the two terrified boys, unleashing her heavy swing. Mercifully, she swung and missed, probably sparing her a charge of assault with a deadly weapon.
The youngsters didn’t stop running until they crossed the street on the other side of the park. And then June turned her gaze in our direction.
That left the oldest on his own against me and whatever fiend June had become. The quivering lad popped up, hit the ground running and was not about to ease up on the throttle, practically burning rubber when his sneakers hit the street.
For those keeping score at home, our totals: three runs (three youths running for their lives), no hits (no blows landed), one error (failure of scouting report to warn of Big Sis), and two left on base (that would be us, proudly in command of the field with all equipment secured). Chalk one up for the Packard Park pair.
We never did see those boys again, which had us wondering if they were in therapy after their near-death encounter with a Grim Reaper swinging a bat instead of a scythe.
Around the neighborhood the legend of Big Sis continued to grow, particularly on the ball field, which benefited everybody on her team. With a bat in June’s hand, what pitcher would dare throw “high cheese” to Big Sis or any of her cubs?
Although I eventually grew taller than June, I still think of her as Big Sis to this day. And yes, June is alive and well in Long Island, New York, living quite peaceably, in fact — as long as you don’t poke the bear.
Lynn Houser was an Indiana newspaper writer from 1976-2012, the first eight at the Kendallville News-Sun and the last 28 at the Bloomington Herald-Times. The Fort Wayne native is now retired and living in Delray Beach, Florida.
