When my daughter, Lindsay, was a baby, her favorite toy was her bunny — aptly named, “Bunny.” It stayed with her throughout her growing-up years. Today, some 30 years later, Bunny is in tatters, but is still in the picture. I know this because sometimes I see it hanging out of her purse.

Whenever I hear talk of bullying these days, it brings back a few bad memories of my own youthful tormentor. His name was Ned and he lived down the street from me. At the time, I was an elementary school student while he was in junior high.