Growing up alongside an emotionally disturbed "classmate"

[jbg]

I had a "friend", Bobby, who was a bit disturbed, enough so that the fist time we played on Halloween 1964 at my house, my mother, on sheer instinct, gave him our second line, SC3-5674 rather than our main number, SC3-5673. Sure enough the phony phone calls were not far behind. When his Bar Mitzvah was scheduled for April 25, 1970, mine was already scheduled for the same day. We bumped it to May 2, 1970 since I knew I couldn't compete. His parents, trying (unsuccessfully) to buy him friends scheduled his reception for the Waldorf Astoria.

Fast forward to September-October 1971, when we were in 9th grade. He lent me a Ten Years After album and one other. The day I brought them to school in my backpack, my backpack was stolen. The backpack was later recovered sans the records.

He insisted that I pay him for the records, which I did. If I could reinvent history I would have bought the records at E.J. Korvettes, which took returns. I wonder how fast he would have rescinded his demands.

In any event, his mental disturbance got worse. The next year, when I was a sophomore, my parents were driving me somewhere. I said, "last time I saw Bobby, he looked horrible and I hear things are not going well." I treasure the memory of my Dad saying "Jimmy, I detect a note of concern." I guess they were impressed that I cared, despite our checkered relationship. My Dad died three or four months later.

 

[Brickjectivity]

Its been a long time, so maybe the facts were clearer to you then. Perhaps you don't remember everything, but I don't think you hurt him by paying him the money.

 

[jbg]

Its been a long time, so maybe the facts were clearer to you then. Perhaps you don't remember everything, but I don't think you hurt him by paying him the money.

Aside from making a fool of myself, right.

 

[Brickjectivity]

Aside from making a fool of myself, right.

It depends. You say he is your friend, so then perhaps your focus is not on yourself but on how to help this disturbed friend of yours. If he has a (permanent) personality problem then yes helping him may be pointless, but I don't know him or how well you know him. Perhaps you paid him just to get on with your life and not be further annoyed by him.

 

[jbg]

It depends. You say he is your friend, so then perhaps your focus is not on yourself but on how to help this disturbed friend of yours. If he has a (permanent) personality problem then yes helping him may be pointless, but I don't know him or how well you know him. Perhaps you paid him just to get on with your life and not be further annoyed by him.

Exactly. I was having problems with him and a few other people and the school authorities were taking it out on me. At one point I was almost expelled. The next year was far better but 9th was a shoot-show.

 

[Brickjectivity]

Exactly. I was having problems with him and a few other people and the school authorities were taking it out on me. At one point I was almost expelled. The next year was far better but 9th was a shoot-show.

I don't blame you. I think the tired, drowning swimmer analogy applies. A drowning person reaches a point where they panic. They may loose all rationality and may attempt to get on top of a rescuing swimmer. You (as a lifeguard) might swim out to save someone from the surf only to find that they grab you and try to force your body under theirs to keep themselves afloat. If that happens you have to swim down, to make yourself unappealing. They let you go, and you save yourself. You can't save them if you die in the process. It doesn't mean you're not their friend; and if you save yourself there's still a chance to save them though it is slim. You can let them tire out until they can no longer grab you.

 

[jbg]

I don't blame you. I think the tired, drowning swimmer analogy applies. A drowning person reaches a point where they panic. They may loose all rationality and may attempt to get on top of a rescuing swimmer. You (as a lifeguard) might swim out to save someone from the surf only to find that they grab you and try to force your body under theirs to keep themselves afloat. If that happens you have to swim down, to make yourself unappealing. They let you go, and you save yourself. You can't save them if you die in the process. It doesn't mean you're not their friend; and if you save yourself there's still a chance to save them though it is slim. You can let them tire out until they can no longer grab you.

I know the routine, reach, throw, row, go. This I guess was a hybrid of "throw" using a human. The rescuer had a rope tied around his waist, and the other rescuer, on shore, was hauling the rope in with the in-water rescuer grabbing me.

 

[Curious George]

I had a "friend", Bobby, who was a bit disturbed, enough so that the fist time we played on Halloween 1964 at my house, my mother, on sheer instinct, gave him our second line, SC3-5674 rather than our main number, SC3-5673. Sure enough the phony phone calls were not far behind. When his Bar Mitzvah was scheduled for April 25, 1970, mine was already scheduled for the same day. We bumped it to May 2, 1970 since I knew I couldn't compete. His parents, trying (unsuccessfully) to buy him friends scheduled his reception for the Waldorf Astoria.

Fast forward to September-October 1971, when we were in 9th grade. He lent me a Ten Years After album and one other. The day I brought them to school in my backpack, my backpack was stolen. The backpack was later recovered sans the records.

He insisted that I pay him for the records, which I did. If I could reinvent history I would have bought the records at E.J. Korvettes, which took returns. I wonder how fast he would have rescinded his demands.

In any event, his mental disturbance got worse. The next year, when I was a sophomore, my parents were driving me somewhere. I said, "last time I saw Bobby, he looked horrible and I hear things are not going well." I treasure the memory of my Dad saying "Jimmy, I detect a note of concern." I guess they were impressed that I cared, despite our checkered relationship. My Dad died three or four months later.

I wonder whether his emotional disturbance was related to trauma. I also wonder what kind of help he could have had that would have led to a better outcome for him. Did you ever hear more about what ended up happening with him?

 

[Left Coast]

I had a "friend", Bobby, who was a bit disturbed, enough so that the fist time we played on Halloween 1964 at my house, my mother, on sheer instinct, gave him our second line, SC3-5674 rather than our main number, SC3-5673. Sure enough the phony phone calls were not far behind. When his Bar Mitzvah was scheduled for April 25, 1970, mine was already scheduled for the same day. We bumped it to May 2, 1970 since I knew I couldn't compete. His parents, trying (unsuccessfully) to buy him friends scheduled his reception for the Waldorf Astoria.

Fast forward to September-October 1971, when we were in 9th grade. He lent me a Ten Years After album and one other. The day I brought them to school in my backpack, my backpack was stolen. The backpack was later recovered sans the records.

He insisted that I pay him for the records, which I did. If I could reinvent history I would have bought the records at E.J. Korvettes, which took returns. I wonder how fast he would have rescinded his demands.

In any event, his mental disturbance got worse. The next year, when I was a sophomore, my parents were driving me somewhere. I said, "last time I saw Bobby, he looked horrible and I hear things are not going well." I treasure the memory of my Dad saying "Jimmy, I detect a note of concern." I guess they were impressed that I cared, despite our checkered relationship. My Dad died three or four months later.

I'm lost here, I think. So he lent you some albums, and those albums got stolen, and he wanted you to pay him back for them. Do you think he stole the records from you that he lent to you?

 

[jbg]

I'm lost here, I think. So he lent you some albums, and those albums got stolen, and he wanted you to pay him back for them. Do you think he stole the records from you that he lent to you?

Yes. Normally the contents of a high schooler's back pack and not terribly interesting. He had to know that was in it, and the shape of the outside of the backpack probably gave its contents away. He was smart but sick in the head.

 

[jbg]

I wonder whether his emotional disturbance was related to trauma. I also wonder what kind of help he could have had that would have led to a better outcome for him. Did you ever hear more about what ended up happening with him?

I saw him on the train once or twice. I said hello. I couldn't bring myself to find out more; he didn't look good.

 

[Left Coast]

Yes.

Okay, do you have evidence for that? Aside from his history of being somehow "disturbed" or mentally ill?

 

[jbg]

Okay, do you have evidence for that? Aside from his history of being somehow "disturbed" or mentally ill?

Read my post as corrected.

 

[Left Coast]

Yes. Normally the contents of a high schooler's back pack and not terribly interesting. He had to know that was in it, and the shape of the outside of the backpack probably gave its contents away. He was smart but sick in the head.

If the shape of the backpack gave its contents away, then conceivably anyone could've stolen them if they were so inclined.

I'm glad you repaid him, though I think repurchasing the albums would've been fine too.

 

[Rachel Rugelach]

I would have given him the money for the records, but also demanded a receipt. My parents would have expected nothing less, but they would have been especially disappointed in me if I didn't get the receipt.