The End of My Rope

Thanksgiving is upon us once again and while the start of the holiday season is often times a joyous occasion for many, it has become a time that only causes stress, disappointment, and anger for me. Don't misunderstand, everything in my house is always great. I wouldn't say I enjoy the loading up of the kids to rush from one house to the next, hoping while we are wherever we are that they'll behave well enough to avoid a scene, but I understand it as a necessary evil and the time spent among family is enriching nonetheless.

No, the issues that I have during holiday time aren't related to my wife or my kids, not to my in-law or their families either. The problems arise when dealing with, talking about, or even thinking of my mother and her side of the family.

I don't want to get into the whole back story here; suffice to say that my parents were divorced when I was very young and though my dad was just down the road (literally), my mom raised three kids basically by herself. For much of that time she struggled to find work as a teacher, but eventually landed a full-time job. We never had much money, but we had enough. She did a wonderful job of instilling morals and all the other things a mother should teach her kids. I am forever grateful that she was as hard on me as she was; I deserved every spanking I got.

To say that my mother and I had a close relationship wouldn't be accurate, I don't think. I had thought that we did, but when it came time for me to move out and go off to college, it became evident that I was wrong. In the 10 years that I lived in Bowling Green, which is situated an hour north on I-75, my older sister lived in Florida and then in North Carolina. During that time, my mom must have traveled to see Courtney at least twice a year every year, often times more. She came up to see me in BG exactly once. In 10 years.

I eventually moved back to Lima, just a handful of blocks away from her in fact. Things didn't change much. I'd see her when I went to her house or at my Aunt's place every now and again, but that was it. When I got married and started my own family, we grew even further apart.

A couple of years ago, it became evident how little my kids would see their paternal grandmother. My younger sister has two kids of her own and she frequently leaves them with Mom. My kids, however, have never been there together without my wife and I. She comes to birthdays and we were expected at holidays, but apart from those handful of times each year, we neither see nor hear from her. I have tried several times to arrange time and days for us to visit her, but no matter how much notice we give, it rarely happens. In fact, I think the exact number is once. Eventually, I gave up trying.

Last year, I drove to Lima on Thanksgiving day, with every intention on going to my family's gathering. Instead, I chose to go shopping and return home. My mom called me at one point, asking where I was. I told her I wasn't coming. I saw no reason to do so. If she can't make an effort to see the kids during the year at all, why should I bring them to her, begging her to at least get to know them?

So, of course, as it's that time of year again, she sent me a text the other day asking if we would come to Thanksgiving. But my wife has to work and the two older kids have to be with their bio-dad during the day, so I declined. It was not an easy decision at all. I suggested to her that we could come to her house during the week leading up to Thursday, but as a teacher, she had conferences and wouldn't be home. Knowing bio-dad would be in the picture again on the weekend, Valerie suggested we could visit her on Friday evening instead. I told my mom we wouldn't need fed and that we could come by around 6:30 pm that night.

She responded that she would be busy shopping and then putting up her tree. She asked again if I would just come on Thursday and then asked if I was coming to Christmas. My response: "No. Just forget it." Clearly, she can't be bothered to make any kind of time, so why should I?

The sad fact is that when Valerie and I were discussing things the other day, Sebastian overheard us. He couldn't contain his excitement to go to Grandma Judy's house. More sad is that Amity, who is almost 2, has seen my mother less than three times in her life (excluding birthday parties when there are dozens of other people there). Leyton, I'm certain, couldn't pick his grandma out of a lineup.

I have a wife and four kids, two of which also have to make time for their bio-dad. She (my mother) has only herself. She doesn't work weekends or evenings. But her life is somehow too busy to include seeing four of her six grandchildren even once a month. That's really all I have ever asked of her. She always thinks it's a great idea, but the idea never ever comes to fruition. Instead, she's apparently comfortable seeing my kids only on their respective birthdays. I really see no point in continuing to try. I'm no longer going to beg her. I'm no longer going to present my kids to her as if she's a queen. I'm far too busy and my efforts only lead to disappointment.

The last time she saw the kids was on Leyton's birthday (in October), when she came and was at the house for about a half hour. Before that it was at Sebastian's party in July. We live 15 miles from her house and we are more than willing to come to her, but she can't be bothered.

Obviously, shopping and Christmas tree assembly are vastly more important than seeing her grandkids. I just don't know what else I can do at this point.

I want to be clear here, just in case she reads this, that every single time her name comes up, I feel only sadness. She's my mother. I miss her. I want her to be a part of my life and my children's lives. But I cannot make her want to be a part of our lives. She has always come to the birthday parties dutifully, but I know she does it only because she's supposed to. How do I know that? Because unless it's a birthday, we won't see her. She operates toward us as if she lives 3000 miles away. My life is full and complete and busy and satisfying. I want her to add to it, but every time I even think of her, I am no longer happy or satisfied; only sad and disappointed.

Unless something changes dramatically (and by that I mean that she contacts me and sets a time and actually comes through on seeing the kids), I won't be going to Christmas, either. Beyond that, however, I no longer have any plans to keep her informed of what's happening with them. I no longer plan to contact her regarding birthdays at all. When my wife gives birth to our fifth child in March, I have no plans to alert my mother. I'm sure it would just be a bother for her to come to the hospital anyway.

If there's one thing she's made perfectly clear to me and my family over the past few years, it's that she can't be bothered to make any kind of significant time for us.

I miss you, Mom. I can only hope you realize someday soon that you are missing out on getting to know some incredibly great kids.

Those Who Blame Joe Paterno are More Than a Little Misguided

It appears as if I jumped to some incorrect conclusions in my last post regarding the issues at Penn State. It that post, I basically stated that Joe Paterno didn't do when he needed to do because he didn't alert the authorities. It turns out, I was wrong.

Upon hearing whatever it was that he heard from Mike McQuery, JoePa contacted not only the Athletic Director, Tim Curley, but also the University Vice President, Gary Shultz. Why is this significant? Because Shultz was the "overseer" of the University police Department; in effect, Shultz was the Chief of Police at Penn State. So, no, Paterno didn't pick up the phone and call some desk clerk at State College PD, he called the man in charge of the Campus Police (and anyone who has spent 50 years on a campus anywhere would have called campus police and not the city cops).

I've done my best to try to remain as objective as possible here. Obviously, the magnitude of the situation involving the (alleged) sexual abuse of minors by former Penn State coach Jerry Sandusky is one that brings about great emotion. But the bloodlust of the national media and seemingly anyone with a twitter account has gone well past too far. Paterno is the one being burned for these crimes; though he's not the one who committed them. If I can find objectivity, I can see how, if I were in Paterno's shoes, I may have reacted the exact same way he did. He's known Sandusky for 30+ years when McQueary came to him. There are people who say "how could Paterno not have known?" as if child molesters divulge this information to their friends. Guess what? They don't. For all any of us know, our best friend might be doing the same thing Sandusky was doing and we would never know it. It's not something that is advertised.

They say that Paterno, upon hearing the news, should have followed up when nothing was done about Sandusky. But if it were your friend, a person you've known and trusted for 30 years or more, that you heard was involved in this (and we still don't know how many, if any, details Paterno was given), wouldn't the natural reaction be one of disbelief? "Surely," you'd think to yourself, "this can't be true. Not this guy. That doesn't sound like the man I know." But doing what he should have done, Paterno did report what he had heard not only to his immediate supervisor, but also to the defacto chief of police. I can only assume (as we all can on this) that he was told they would look into it.

But, nevertheless, the Board of Trustees decided yesterday that Paterno had already coached his last game, ending a 62 year career that was filled with nothing but dignity, honor, and goodwill. They also fired the University president, Graham Spanier. Meanwhile, Curley and Shultz, both facing charges in this case, have been placed on leave from the University. McQueary, the only man (apart from Sandusky) that actually knows anything for certain, as he is the only one who saw what was happening, has not been fired. McQueary didn't intervene with Sandusky when there was an alleged rape in progress, he didn't call the police, he simply phoned his father and waited until the next day to inform Paterno of the situation.

If Paterno was fired for failing to do enough to protect the children that Sandusky (allegedly) abused, and he actually did inform the police, why then does McQueary still have a job? Paterno didn't abuse the children, he didn't witness the abuse, he didn't call a relative and gossip about it. All he did do was what he should have done, what, I think, most of us in his same position would have done.

McQueary walked in on a 10-year-old boy being raped by a hulking 55-year-old man. He didn't stop the assault, he didn't yell or scream for help, he didn't call the cops in his horror of seeing what had taken place. Instead, he waited until the next day and went to his boss about it. Of all the people who had the chance to end Sandusky's reign of terror over these young boys, McQueary was the one who could have made an immediate and lasting impact. The Grand Jury report states that the victim and Sandusky both saw McQueary when he entered those showers. Can you imagine how much more magnified that child's horror would have been when he saw McQueary turn and walk away instead of helping him out of that situation?

How is McQueary punished for literally turning his back on this assault, on this young man? "His status is unchanged", says the Board of Trustees. McQueary has kept his job.

You can place the blame a lot of places in this Penn State debacle, but if you want a hierarchy, it had better start with Sandusky, and the next name on your list had better be McQueary. Joe Paterno's name might also be on the list, but given all the actual factors, it should appear at or near the bottom.

Nothing Happy About Happy Valley Right Now

I don't know exactly how or when it all started for me. I can recall spending time at my Grandpa's house and he would have a ballgame on the TV and another one on the radio. This was common during baseball season. Grandpa was also a football fan, but not to the extent that he loved baseball. I guess I'm much the same way.

Somewhere along the way, it became obvious that, in Grandpa's world, there were a few rules when it came to sports. He didn't seem to mind whether or not you followed "his" teams, but you'd better not be a fan of his rivals. When it pertained to college sports, that meant no Ohio State and no Notre Dame. (Aside: there have been very few times in my life where I've ever lost any respect for my father, but when he became a ND fan because his wife is an ND fan, I felt a bit of shame. Grandpa would not approve. C'mon Dad, you married a woman, not a football team.)

Anyhow, whether it was the colors that so closely match those of my beloved Detroit Tigers, or the history and tradition of the uniforms and the ageless head coach, somewhere in my earlier years, I became hooked on Penn State football. I remember the Fiesta Bowl win against a heavily favored Miami team, I remember the days when Penn State was independent. I grew up being proud to sport that Lion's head deep within Ohio State territory. I wore it like a badge of honor.

When the news broke a couple of days ago that former longtime Defensive Coordinator Jerry Sandusky had been indicted on charges that he sexually abused young children, I was shocked. That type of news is always difficult to swallow; it's a subject that makes anyone uncomfortable at best, and downright sick at worst. While I've never met Sandusky, I did almost feel as if I knew him for all those years. Years that I had extolled the virtues of his defenses and told anyone who would listen how great he was. It wasn't ever just Joe Paterno, it was Paterno and Sandusky (and later Tom Bradley) that made Penn State so wonderful on the field.

In reality, however, "on the field" is all any of the fans ever knew, ever saw. Perhaps it was the innocence of my childhood, or maybe just the blindness I chose to have because I was a fan, that lead me to believe that these leaders of men were infallible. Much the same way a son looks up to his father and doesn't see the flaws, we do the same with our sports heroes, right or wrong. In this case, it looks like I was wrong.

I drove into work this morning in a great mood. I had just finished voting and was feeling pretty good about myself; like I had somehow made a difference. Listening to the radio, I was besieged by nothing but stories coming out of State College. This was the first time that I had heard some of the more damning details. Mike McQueary, a former Penn State quarterback now wide receivers coach, apparently witnessed an incident involving Sandusky and a young boy in 2002. McQueary told Paterno, who told the Athletic Director (who has been charged with perjury in in this case) and that was it. But, you know what? I'll get back to that in a moment.

Much of the coverage by the media here has centered on Joe Paterno and, to a lesser extent, Mike McQueary. There seems to almost be more outrage directed at them than at Sandusky. This seems backwards, but I do understand the mentality. It's almost as if we accept that Sandusky is a monster, but we want to vilify the Penn State officials for not doing enough to stop said monster. We aren't blaming Godzilla, we are blaming the Japanese citizens for not being able to kill the monster before he destroyed their city. I think it's important to remember that it was Sandusky, not McQueary or Paterno, who (allegedly) abused those children. It is Sandusky who should bear the brunt of the ire that is reigning down of State College.

I think it's easy to say that if it were me that witnessed this act, that I would have done things differently than McQueary did. Or that if I were Paterno, that I would have followed up with law enforcement or made sure Sandusky was banished from the University (at least). I think that, because so very few of us are put in those positions (thank God), we imagine ourselves doing the heroic thing, the right thing. But none of us were there and none of us knows exactly what happened. I'm doing my best here to maintain as much logic as I can in thinking this through, but it really isn't working.

For as long as I can remember, I have loudly and proudly supported Penn State and Joe Paterno. Never once, no matter how many of the players were arrested in bar fights, no matter how many 3-8 seasons took place in the down years, no matter how loud the cries for Paterno to retire grew, never once did I ever feel anything but pride in "my" Nittany Lions.

All of that changed this morning. Because for as much as we don't know what we would have done if it were we that walked in on Sandusky raping a young child, or what we would have done if it were us that heard that our longtime friend and co-worker was capable of such reprehensible behavior, I know that I assumed that Paterno, and even McQueary

I don't know how much responsibility to heap on the shoulders of the Penn State staff, but I'm not sure it matters all that much. Paterno had avenues he could have taken if the athletic department wanted to cover this up (and it appears they did). He could have removed Sandusky from the program, he could have called the authorities himself, he could have done more than he did. But he didn't. And while Sandusky is the real monster here, it looks as if Paterno didn't do everything he could to protect those kids. And I can't support a program or a coach that would quietly accept what McQueary described to him.

But how much more could Paterno have been reasonably expected to do? Sandusky was an employee of Penn State; he did not work for Paterno, although Paterno would have to have been considered his immediate supervisor. Paterno also works for Penn State and Tim Curley (the AD) was his immediate supervisor. By all accounts, paterno heard the allegations from mcQueary and passed them along to his boss, a man he could have and should have assumed would investigate the claims and take the proper action. It was Curley's negligence, much more than Paterno's, that allowed Sandusky to continue to have access to the University. Ultimately, it was Curley's job to take this information and alert the authorities. That's seems logical and reasonable to me, but it still assumes that Paterno bears no real responsibility here, and I'm just not comfortable thinking that's true.

If we blindly assume that everything we've heard about the situation at Penn State is true, we may have no brain. But if we blindly assume that no one but Sandusky should bear the responsibility, we may have no soul.

The Stork is Coming Again

I'm not entirely sure what date this post will wind up getting published, but it's being written on October 22, 2011. By the time this goes live, the world will be aware that Valerie and I are once again expecting. As I write this, she is 17 weeks and three days pregnant.

In previous pregnancies, we always shared the news as early as safely possible or right at 12 weeks. This time, however, we decided to keep this to ourselves for as long as Valerie's tummy would allow. There are a few reasons for this.

For starters, as soon as we found out, both of us could hear the reactions we'd get from friends and family. Even the ones who offered their congratulations would do so, in all likelihood, while also saying things like "this is the last one, right?" or "you do know how that happens, don't you?" Worse will be the ones that openly object to another child in our family, one that would already includes four children ages six and under.

Frankly speaking, we simply don't want to hear it. It's not about you, it's about us. The world is full of arrogant individuals who think that their opinion of your life should be more important than your own. They won't admit to this, of course, because they don't recognize that they are this way, but they are. Most of the time, we all are.

I guess in a way, I can understand a few of these people having concerns. We already ask so much of my in-laws as far as watching the kids for an hour or three each day after school that adding another will only add to their responsibilities. Beth has also been kind enough to watch the little ones all day three times every other week; giving up her days off from work. I understand and appreciate their sacrifice to no end. But, Rob and Beth are they only two people that I can think of that this will affect at all in anything but a positive way, and for 95% of the rest of the world, this news won't have any affect at all.

But that won't stop the snide comments from those who are supposed to share in the joy, not try to dampen the atmosphere of happiness. Far too many of you will (and by the time this is published already have) take a selfish attitude about what should be a tremendously happy thing for us. Because again, this has pretty much absolutely nothing to do with you. So what, you might have to come to an extra birthday party? Don't come if that's a bother for you. We'll be fine. The child will be fine.

The other reason we decided to keep this in-house for as long as possible is that I wanted this one to be for us. Part of that, of course, is tied to the above. Maybe most of it. For the last two pregnancies, it seemed like the whole world was involved in our lives, commenting on everything. It didn't feel like it was something that Valerie and I shared together; we had to allow everyone else to come along, too. Knowing that this is the last one (and it is the last one, Valerie), I wanted this to be just ours for as long as it could be.

I was thinking last night about Leyton's journey to the world. That pregnancy included not only family and friends, but countless strangers; all of which were necessary thanks to Leyton's gastroschisis. When we were expecting Amity, the process was much different. Valerie and I were able to share things together that we couldn't before and that we can't now. By the time Amity was conceived, Leyton was sleeping in his own bed, so we had every night to lie together and talk and discuss names and just enjoy the process. Amity still won't sleep in her own bed and so there aren't those same moments with Valerie. I miss that. But while we haven't had as much time to share this with each other, it's comforting to know that what we do share is shared only between us. This feels like our pregnancy, like our family, not someone else's.

Maybe that's more selfish than what everyone else will think or say, but shouldn't it be? Shouldn't we, Valerie and I, have this for us? We created this child, we'll raise this child, we'll provide the love and support of this child. Why then, shouldn't we get to make this decision without repercussion? But I know we won't get off so easily.

In all likelihood, we'll see even more backlash because we waited to tell everyone. That's just how people are I guess.