March is the month of war, and while I've certainly never fought in a war, I have a very clear memory of the first time I punched someone. In reality, it never happened. When I was five, I remember bringing Mr. Ed, the most beautiful of toy horses with the absolute softest of fur, to kindergarten for show-and-tell. He was a hit. During recess, I perched Mr. Ed near the edge of the playground, only to return and discover a classmate methodically peeling away his fur, leaving only an unsettling pinkish-gray nudity behind. Everything up until this part of the story really happened. If you are reading, Brianna from Tucson, I still know what you did. But I also have an incredibly clear recollection of punching Brianna in the chest and being sent home for a five-year-old's version of suspension. If this actually happened, neither my mother nor father has ever heard about it. It didn't happen, in fact, and yet I remember it like it was yesterday. Maybe because I still think this is how the better version of myself would have handled things, standing up for her friends, even if it meant getting breaking the cardinal "no touching!" rule of grammar school and "Arrested Development." From day one, we're taught to share and resolve things peacefully, but almost everyone finds something they're willing to fight for. It doesn't have to be violent, or physical, but we do go to war, with our friends, our parents, our professors, ourselves and, for some, enemies in distant lands. No matter what, the things for which we're willing to take up arms reveals an insane amount about our character. I am and always will be an avid loyalist to Mr. Ed. Who do you fight for? Happy feuding Friday!
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