Turning a Blind Eye

Admit it. It's so easy to do. Someone in need is right in front of you and you change directions, look the other way, duck & cover. Often, we then say a prayer of thanks that this person, this particular situation is not ours.

I am absolutely appalled at the Penn State scenario. Heartbroken for the victims and heartbroken for those who will carry the stigma, whether they were involved or not. I don't think putting Penn State grad or Penn State athlete on your resume is going to cause you anything but trouble for the coming years.

Of this whole saga, the most troubling thing to me was the protests and riots over the 84-year old, turn a blind eye, make a b'jillion dollars coach being fired. I would feel a whole lot better about our society if the riots were for the victims.

I feel certain I would properly report a child being abused or molested. I'm quite smug about helping children, animals and anyone I sense to be in need.

Yet, I drive everyday by people with those signs: "Homeless & hungry." "A veteran who needs a leg up." "Hungry kids, will work for food."

I drive by. I often don't believe the signs.

I'm questioning whether I'm any better than others who witness awfulness.

Bubble Wrap

Today I was waiting for a friend in Broad Ripple, a little village in the heart of our town. A parent left the stroller on the sidewalk and I noticed the label said, "Remove Child Before Folding."

Have we really come to that?

A couple of years ago, I was on a plane and they announced on the speaker that they would not be serving peanuts because a child on the flight had peanut allergies. They also asked that anyone not eat anything with peanuts during the flight.

Bad things happen.

A person who was scheduled to review photos with our parishioners was called away this week because his son was murdered for his pizza delivery money. Not too far from my neighborhood, a guy was walking his dog and ended up shot in the back, paralyzed from the waist down. This was for $20 and his cell phone which he gave up with no questions asked.

Fear is a fungus. Freaky accidents and violent crimes get the most attention because they are the most shocking and the most unusual. Yet, we all go crazy.

I know someone who wears a pistol strapped to her ankle at all times. In her daily errands and in her own home. It's terribly sad for me to think of her living in perpetual fear.

I know a couple of people from my childhood. They both have three children roughly the same age. For the record, I love all the people involved in this story. But to be honest, I am less nervous with the kids who are allowed to cross the street, crawl in my car, roll with my dog, etc. The other kids are delightful and I'm sure they have their own releases. From my limited view, I see the bubble-wrapped, "don't touch the dog" and "take your shoes off" kind of childhood. Even when my own parents tried to keep me safe, I flocked to my peers and their houses where children fell down, picked themselves up and moved on.

I worked downtown before our downtown was revitalized. For many years I walked 5 blocks to and from my parking spot. Gasp! I was unarmed. I used to beg to walk to school and occasionally my parents let me do it.

Here's what I believe and the statistics prove me out.

A child is more likely to be kidnapped by a non-custodial parent than a stranger.
A child is more likely to be molested by a family member than a stranger.
A woman is more likely to be raped by an acquaintance than a stranger.
Anyone is more likely to be killed by someone texting while driving than all of the above scenarios.

Most people are good. They will call 911 if something seems amiss. They will administer CPR or the Heimlich maneuver instead of stealing your wallet. They will risk their own lives to save yours.

In the 70s, a very young John Travolta starred in a movie, "The Boy in the Bubble."

I refuse to be the woman in the bubble.