I just finished reading Anderson Cooper's book
Dispatches From the Edge and I have to say that it is literally one of the best books I have ever read. And I read a lot. I'm that weird kid who really enjoys reading literary collections that a lot of others find boring as hell or dry as dust. I love losing myself in storylines, plots, or, in this case, autobiographical experiences. I love getting into people's heads and hearing their stories, seeing the world through their eyes, no matter how sad/violent/tragic/exhilarating, etc. their stories may be. This is one story that will stick with me forever, and here's why. Anderson throws open wide the windows to his soul, his heart, and his perception of the world. He allows the reader to live in his thoughts, share in his insecurities, and work through the internal battles that he struggles with. I can't say why exactly I appreciated his raw approach to life, death, his work, and his family tragedies. I can only assume it's because I am genuinely intrigued by the human condition. Sometimes, I'm way too involved and it brings on panic attacks- or just panicky feelings. I have a somewhat obnoxious habit of being hypersensitive to the plight of others. I oftentimes find myself inserting myself into situations I hear of, whether they're happy or sad, most of the time without realizing I'm doing it. It's second nature, and I don't know why. Maybe it's because of things that I've been through and experienced in my own life, or maybe I'm just weird. Who knows? It just seems to be the way I'm hardwired.
Most recently, I've been kept awake by three things: the situation at Penn State, the bullying and terrorizing of children in my siblings' school district (the same district I also went through), and the threat of nuclear war against America. Yes, I'm completely aware that they are all at completely opposite points of the triangle, but for whatever reason, they are all interconnected in my mind. Okay, okay. I have to be completely honest here. I have no idea why the threat of nuclear war is something I find myself worrying about at night, especially since it's been hanging over America since long before I was ever even thought of. It's so stupid that I sit up and worry about things like this, things that are such huge issues I could never even make a ripple of impact... but I do. Things like the potential for a devastating pandemic and war don't induce the same heart palpitations as nuclear war does. Can I control that? No. Absolutely not. I'm slowly starting to realize that there are things in life not worth worrying about because there is nothing I can do to change them. If widespread global disease breaks out, if nuclear war is initiated anywhere in the world, if a train derails behind the houses across the street and takes out my whole neighborhood in the middle of the night, there is nothing I can do to fix/change/prevent that, just like there is nothing I can do if a rogue asteroid decides to wander its way into Earth's orbit and comes crashing down. The fear is still there somehow, and I think it really stems from having children. Once my life became about two little people that are half of my DNA, who are my whole entire world, who I would die to protect, my world's rotational axis changed. Maybe that, compacted by the fact that I have post-traumatic stress and panic disorders stemming from childhood trauma (more on that later), is why I have random, completely irrational worries.
Anyway.
Time to chime in on Penn State. When I heard the breaking news report, I thought it was about some random college football scandal. You know, the football program was taking kickbacks from NFL recruiters to secure certain players on future pro rosters or someone was embezzling money. Personally, I hate college football- I could never get into it and I don't understand the draw of sitting around watching college football games on TV. I like going to college football games, but I just never got the whole Big 10 hoorah factor. Throw on Sunday football, Monday night football, or holiday games or the Super Bowl and I'm all in. (Go Pack Go!) So when the details started leaking out, I sat up and took notice. When the dam broke and the sordid details began pouring out in an unstoppable flood, I couldn't help but seek out the Grand Jury's findings online. Now I wish I hadn't. I, like many others out there, was a victim of child sex abuse at the hands of my father. I don't know when it started- I was really young- but I do recall when it ended. When I was eight and my father cussed me out on the phone and essentially took himself out of my life completely... that was when all categories of abuse ended. I remember being terrified to go to bed in my own room at night, and even now, I can recall being woken up in the middle of the night and, sleepy-eyed, seeing a distorted face hovering over me in the dark. My mom has told me that I didn't want to go in my crib because "Dee Dee" was in there. Sounds an awful lot like "Daddy" doesn't it? She couldn't figure out why I was having these horrible nightmares and would wake up to draw pictures of horribly disfigured monsters. She took me to a family therapist who confirmed her suspicions and agreed that my behavioral patterns were attributed to sexual abuse. Of course, when my father was confronted with the facts, he denied and pointed the finger at everyone under the sun. Coming from a man who came to this country illegally, lied about his age to get my mom to marry him to obtain citizenship, denied having affairs with my babysitters, cheating on my mom at out-of-town weddings, ignoring fidelity in general, going on drinking binges, and being arrested for cocaine possession multiple times, his denials came from a petty selfish need to twist the actual truth to fit his "truth." My parents divorced when I was a year and a half, but up to a certain point, my mom kept taking my father back. She wanted me to grow up with a father and held out hope that he would stand up and realize that he had a job to do in helping raise me. That never happened. Unfortunately, I was still subject to court-ordered visitation (which I never wanted to go to) and overnight visitation (ditto to the former). When I spent the night at his house with his then-girlfriend Viviana, I found myself locking the door and barricading it with a nightstand or dresser before turning out the lights. If he was going to try anything, I wanted to be alerted and awake to defend myself.
I made contact with my father again when I was almost twenty-one, and that contact was tainted and short-lived. I needed answers to the questions from my past, and he was unwilling to discuss anything. I wanted to know that he'd missed me being a part of his life and that he was ready and willing to nurture a mature relationship with me. He didn't and he wasn't. I still struggle with this even now, and it's been almost six years since I last spoke with him. I have five siblings I will never know, and it makes me sad for him that he will never ever meet or know my children. I'm not saying I would have ever had my kids around him if things had turned out differently; I could never trust that they'd be safe. But it hurts that he will never get pictures of them to hang on the wall, and he will never talk to them on the phone. He knows they exist and he knows I live a half hour away; I talk to everyone else on his side of the family and I know some of them have confronted him.
All I ever wanted was for my father to say he was sorry, explain where his head was at, why he did it, and show that he cared enough about me as a person to attempt to remedy the past. Instead, I've been left with a gaping hole and the lasting question of "Why?" Why did an adult, who was charged with the care of a child, HIS child, abuse that power? What thought passed through his head that said "Hey guy. This is a really great idea!" and why did he go with it? Sure there are all kinds of temptations in this world, temptations that can have us walking down destructive paths if we let them. But we all have voices that tell us what is right and wrong. Even children who have had absentee parents and little to no moral guidance in their upbringing reach the age when they are aware of consequences and the difference between what's right and wrong. It infuriates me when I hear someone say "Well, I was abused as a child and that's why I am the way I don't respect authority" or "I never had someone teaching me the difference between right and wrong." I don't buy either one of those reasons as a crutch to lean on when you find yourself in hot water. There comes a certain point when you have to take accountability for your own actions and the reactions brought on by them. And I'm sorry, but the sexualization and/or abuse of children, especially through seemingly charitable means as in Jerry Sandusky's case, is NEVER okay. It is absolutely abhorrent, deviant, Devil-in-human-form to lay hands on a child in an inappropriate manner.
When I read about the rape and brutal sexual assaults that Sandusky committed against these at-risk boys, a piece of my heart broke. These boys were looking for approval and acceptance from someone they could trust. They were looking for a positive male role model they could emulate and look up to, someone to fill the void left by a broken home or missing parent. Instead, they got unwanted advances, brutal rapes, and criminal sexual assault. For Jerry Sandusky to use his position and authority within Penn State's football program to gain access to innocent, vulnerable boys is absolutely despicable. I have cried over this while watching news coverage, I got nauseated while reading the Grand Jury's report. And every single time I hear about someone else who knew, who witnessed the destruction of a child's innocence by this man, I get infuriated. What has happened to the morality of Americans if anyone can witness an adult man performing oral sex on a ten year old boy he pinned to the wall or the violent rape of different ten year old boy in the locker room showers AND NOT REPORT IT? Mike McQuerery not only did just that, but he absolutely failed to protect the children by removing them from the situation AND by not going straight to the police! Instead, he ignored what he saw, talked to his father, and didn't even attempt to find out the names of the boys. Who does that?! It is absolutely sickening. I have no other descriptors aside from that. These men, every single one of them, is sick. They need to to never ever be allowed anywhere near another child for the rest of their lives. The entire Penn State sports organization failed these children, the system failed in bringing down the corruption, the police failed by not moving when presented with actionable knowledge, and the DA failed by not bringing charges. There is so much dysfunction in this case. Because of their lack of urgency and unwillingness to act, they have impacted and corrupted the course of children's lives forever.
As for the bullying that's been going on, I can't say anything I haven't already said except this. The people who are in the position to act and make a difference NEED to do so. They NEED to stand up for students' rights. They NEED to stand up for my little brothers who have been sexually harassed for the past two years by other students and, until recently, had nothing done about it. They NEED to stand up for the little girl who was stabbed by another student with a pencil for not allowing them to cheat off her test. They NEED to provide her protection from students threatening to rape/kill her and her family. They NEED to provide safety for another girl who was brutally assaulted after being jumped from behind while she was in a passing period. Nobody realizes the damage that can result from a group of adults who fail to protect the innocents. It's one thing to be betrayed or failed by a parent, but to have parents who care and aren't being heard by the powers that be who can bring about change is just unacceptable and outrageous.
I look at Rhea and Trace with equal parts awe and wonderment that Nate and I created these two beautiful creatures. But I also look at them and worry about what the world is going to look like as they're growing up. Nate and I made the decision that I will homeschool our children, but we can't protect them forever. We can't shield them from the evils that this world holds and we can't save their innocence indefinitely. As they grow up, they will encounter the world. The blinders will fall away and they will struggle with the truths they're going to be confronted with. They will learn that not every man is as amazing as their daddy is and not every woman cares about her babies the way their mommy does. They will learn that not everybody is kind and that there are constantly scary things that we can't prevent or change- at least not right away. I want nothing more for them than to stay as perfectly happy and content as they are right now. I know that's completely unfeasible, but I can't help but wish for this.
Despite all the negativity that's around us and everything I have been through in my own life, I have committed myself to making sure that my kids know that people are (mostly) good. There is a lot of beauty in this world for them to experience, and they need to run at opportunity with open eyes, open hearts, and open minds. I want them to know that, despite everything ugly that happens on a regular basis, they can make a difference by standing up for the underdog; they can turn ugly into beauty. I want them to know that change starts with one voice and that they need to make theirs heard. But more than anything, I want them to be fearless. I want them to explore without boundaries, dream without limits, and love endlessly. I want them to live their passions and be passionate about their lives. I want them to know that they can change the world and make a difference in someone's life by simply taking the time to listen to them, observe their surroundings, and not be afraid to say something they see going on that's wrong. Change doesn't happen if we sit lazily by and expect someone else to take care of a mess we created or walked through.
Sometimes all it takes is one voice.
