When I was ten years old, I immigrated to Summit, New Jersey from Berkeley Heights. It wasn’t far—just over five miles—but for me, it felt like crossing an ocean. I was leaving behind a pack of kids (a “gang” before the word became pejorative) who knew me, liked me, and with whom I never had to prove anything. My teachers and principal knew me too—and seemed to think I was something special.

My parents insisted the move would be good for us: a bigger house, a neighborhood full of kids, and great schools. I had my doubts. I’d still be sharing a room with my brother, there were no woods or brooks to play in, and I didn’t know a soul. But I didn’t get a vote, and we moved anyway.

To my relief, the kids weren’t terrible. Danny Sylvester and Todd Ranke rolled up on their Sting-Ray bikes to see if there were any new kids around. They introduced me to Jay Speco, Peter Laughlin, and a whole new crew. We played football, basketball, and kick the can until dark or until our parents called us home. Having that gang made the transition to Franklin Elementary easier—at least socially.

Academically and emotionally, not everything went smoothly. Mrs. Ellison, my teacher that year (a woman my mother cursed until the day she died), decided I was behind and made it her mission to erode my self-esteem. And some kids—those who had known each other since preschool—weren’t eager to welcome an outsider.

Then there was Smirk (not his real name). He was tall, connected—his dad held a town office—and had been marinating in the local social stew since birth. He also didn’t like that a Jewish kid had joined the class. Out of 400 students, I was one of two non-Christians. Smirk took it upon himself to “correct” this. He called me a dirty Jew, a Christ-killer, and, with great hilarity among his friends, pretended to check my head for horns.

He had size, status, and a posse. I had no idea how to handle him. My mom wanted to go straight to the principal. My dad vetoed that. He believed I needed to learn to deal with bullies—because life would never be short on assholes. In front of my mom, he said to stand tall and not back down. Alone, he was more blunt: “Punch him in the nose. You might lose the fight, but I guarantee you’ll win the war.”

Soon after, Smirk made his move again—taunts, slurs, and a mock inspection for horns. I pushed him and said if he wanted to fight, I was ready. With too many teachers nearby, we relocated—with a crowd of bloodthirsty classmates—to a nearby baseball field. He threw a punch. I ducked, locked his head, and squeezed until he cried. Then again. And again. Finally, I walked away—only for him to throw a baseball at my head, giving me a black eye and a gash that needed stitches.

He got suspended. He had to apologize in front of the class. His parents called mine to apologize and promised consequences. No one ever called me names again. Smirk and I even played on the same teams later—without incident.

Here’s the thing: bullies only stop when they’re punched in the nose.

And that’s why I bring up this story now—because Donald Trump is a bully. He won’t stop because of stern tweets, clever cartoons, or Chuck Schumer’s “deep concerns.” He won’t be shamed by rallies or op-eds. You don’t reason with bullies. You confront them. You call them out, relentlessly. You land blows—political, legal, rhetorical—until they stop swinging.

The only way to stop Trump is the same way I stopped Smirk: head-on, with guts and grit. Here are a few more suggestions:

• Don’t take the bait. Donal Trump throws out more distractions shiny objects that any politician in history. Don’t attach them all. Find the ones with meaning e.g. the suspension of habeas corpus and attack it.
• Call out his behavior not his personality. Everyone knows Trump is a self-aggrandizing small, brained narcissist. Call out his increasing erratic behavior that is clearly the beginnings of dementia.
• Make people laugh at him. Humor will destroy DT because he has none. Cannot laugh at himself and it drives him wild when people laugh at him.
• Be factual. And when the MAGAtives respond with personality remind them that facts are stick and stones.
• Stay resilient. Don’t let him and his supporters get you down. Take every advantage they give you and land a blow when you can, but never forget this is a marathon.

One final note, we are all immigrants at one time or another in our lives. Remember the kindness that was shown to you when you were new and try to extend it to others when they are beginning their new journey. It will never be forgotten and with any luck played forward.