He was a large man…not especially in height - he was just under 6’1”, so he technically did not meet the standard for “tall”. However, he weighed almost 100 pounds more than the charts stated he should weigh for his height, and even though he was pushing a 38" waist, he was not thought of as fat - he was large, stout, a big man.
His physical appearance was imposing and he was always judged by it. Upon meeting him, most people thought, “I’d hate to get hit by him,” or something similar.
The thing was, due to the fact that his height wasn't imposing and he did not have the build of a gym rat, it left the impression among a certain demographic that he was challengeable, that he could be taken in a fight if the opponent was a little faster or could get a lucky punch in.
Which meant he was frequently forced into situations that compelled him to resort to physical violence. And he abhorred physical violence.
It had been that way since he was a kid, always big for his age. Back then, on the schoolyard or in the neighborhood, some kid would size him up, decide he wasn't “that big”, and either challenge him or just launch an assault.
That pattern followed him all his life. His ears had heard the words, “You aren't that big, I could take you.” well over a hundred times. And well over a hundred times he had defended himself admirably.
However, those defenses were not without unfortunate consequences. Far from it. Beginning with the very first fight he was ever cornered into, until the last encounter he could remember that had become physical, whenever authority figures intervened he was inevitably singled out and deemed to be the aggressor.
And while on most occasions sufficient witnesses were eventually found who would clear him of any wrongdoing, it was also he who was initially detained, it was always he who was cuffed and put into the back seat of a squad car until “We can sort things out.”
Forty plus years of facing the prejudice of being the big man. Forty years of having to endure being punched in the arm by friends and family as if he was somehow impervious to pain or discomfort, forty years of acting like he actually was.
I knew his story before he actually shared it with me, as his experience mirrored my own. We shared an instant kinship.
His wife was sitting on the opposite side of him next to a friend, and hadn't seen who he had been talking with. When she got up and saw us sitting side by side at the bar she quipped, "You two could almost be twins!"
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