memoir writers homework/bullies

Bullies seem to be a part of everyone's life and certainly Moncton had it's share.My mother believed in finding and recognizing the good in everyone,and of speaking only of that good.She must have been deeply troubled at the state of our world in the mid 1970's but chose to remain outwardly naive about many things.During those years,two policemen were killed,their killers found,tried and sentenced to death,only to have their sentences commuted.Then a small girl disappeared at the beginning of summer.Some monster must have snatched her away and as I grew older I came to recognize more clearly what such monsters do.

I wanted to go on the search for this girl and my mother decided to allow it .I was 14 at the time and when I went on the search with a neighbor,I discovered a bully,and a thought as to why all things seemed to be going to Hell in a handbasket.At the time,it was unusual for us to even lock our front doors.

We piled into my neighbors car,went to the police station,where hundreds had gathered and at the command center were assigned an area to search.Our area turned out to be northeast of town.Moncton is divided,northeast to southwest such that to the north and east the rural communities are predominantly French,while to the south and east they are English,United Empire Loyalist.So,being of the latter category I found myself in a very different world in many ways.

By mid morning we had searched ditches and fields near the road,finding no sign of anything suspicious.At last we came to a tiny church with an equally tiny man outside,cutting it's lawn and tidying up it's grounds.We approached.He spoke hardly any English,though he seemed to know why we were there.My neighbor,who reminded me of a great hairless bear asked the man in English if we could search in the church.His voice was loud,as it always tended to be.Even in polite conversation it's volume was just a notch too loud for the occasion.He took a step towards the man while asking.His eyes were fixed on the door.His manner did not invite no as an answer.Why would the missing girl be in the church?Still,he desired to inspect the church.The groundskeeper nodded his assent,looked at the ground and stepped aside.We looked into the small sanctuary.A single,straight ahead view allowed us to take in all of it and there was no sign of anything that should not have been there.So we left.And I thought of those two men for all my life since and how much of Moncton's social reality was spoken in that mostly unspoken event.And I began to be aware of certain undercurrents that my mother was uncomfortable recognizing.Wolves often wear sheep's clothing.