Those things that shape you
Jun 29th, 2008 | By Chuck | Category: Papa PrattleWhen my oldest kids were twelve and eight we lived in very small house in the city. We were a few blocks from a small local grocer on a very busy road. We used to walk the streets that crossed through the neighborhood pretty often and it was only a matter of time before my son asked to walk to the grocery store by himself.
Up until this point I had been very proud of the boy for never giving me any real reason not to trust him; however, I was clamoring for a good reason to say no to the solo trek. Coming up empty the best I could do was lecture him for a good five minutes on strangers, cars, dogs, not walking in other peoples yards and making it back home in 20 minutes. Tops. We synchronized our watches and off he went.
I remember standing on the top step leading up to our little porch and watching him as he neared the first corner that would put him out of sight. I began bouncing on the balls of my feet and imagine there must have been a cloud of dust in my wake as I launched from the porch once he rounded that corner. If I could just make it to that elm tree quick enough I would catch him before he moved around the next corner that put him on the street to the store.
When I was eight years old I lived on a military base in North Carolina with my mother, little brother, older sister (who was in the military) and her soon to be husband. I had been allowed to walk to and from the commissary by myself at this time and normally it was without incident, or as without incident as the roaming mind of an eight year old can allow. One particular day I stood at an intersection waiting for the crosswalk to prompt me forward when a car pulled to a stop in front of me. I stopped looking at the crosswalk long enough to peer into the car and saw a woman driving and a young boy (about my age) in the passenger seat. For the car to have stopped I knew the crosswalk was going to change and I’d be able to cross the street.
Before I could take my eyes from the car and look to the sign I saw her hit him. Her right hand came flying across and crashed into the side of his face. The boy didn’t cry. He lowered his face a bit toward the window and didn’t move. With a ferocity I’d never seen she grabbed a hand full of hair and forced him to look at her. This is when she started screaming.
By the time I was eight I had heard my share of obscenities. What was foreign to me was how those obscenities changed when fueled by rage. Rage fueled obscenities. Yes, that is what I heard pouring through that car window that day.
I stood there stock still. Deer in the headlights if you will. Maybe a minute had passed at this point though it felt much longer. She finished her tirade and forcefully pushed the boys head away from her with enough force for his cheek to crash against the window that was not quite all the way rolled down. It was when she pushed him away that she looked through his window and saw me standing there.
Her face was screwed into some expression that would have been more at home on a rabid animal. She leaned across the boys seat and stuck one index finger out his window. Pointing at me she said, “you’re next”.
It seems at this same instance her light turned green and without another glance she straightened herself, accelerated and moved down the road. I never saw her or the boy again.
The rest of my walk home I cried what I thought was a man’s cry. There were very few tears but my ribs shook from the internal sobbing.
This scene from my past replayed itself as I moved out from behind the elm and sought cover on the opposite corner. I watched as my son turned into the parking lot and made his way into the store. I only waited a few minutes before he came back onto the street with an orange pop in one hand and some candy in the other. I had planned my return route which took me onto the street behind our house and allowed me to keep an eye on the boy between houses. I ended up hopping the fence into our backyard and greeting him in our driveway.
It’s our job to protect our children. I wonder if I would have followed my son that day had I not witnessed what I did when I was eight. I think I would have, though the urgency and motivation would have been a bit different I imagine. It’s interesting, those things that shape you.
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Looking out for our kids is more than protecting them - it’s loving them. Good post Chuck!
Jeremy (Discovering Dad)s last blog post..What Dads Think About Honest Communication
Yes. Loving them is where it starts.
I agree with you completely Jeremy. This was a horrible experience that you had to experience and I hope my daughters will never have to see anything like this in their lifetime (though with society the way it is…this may not be the case). Thus I see it as my job to share as much love as I can and show them how great a positive family envionment can be…and I hope that this will transcend down the road to what they use in their own families in the future.
@Dad of Divas - I hear what you’re sayin’. Unfortunately I don’t think acts of violence are on the decline so the likelihood of our children being exposed to some senseless violence is better than it used to be.
Your past is what shapes you. Everything you do, every decision you make, is due to an experience in your past. I firmly believe that.
Protecting children from harm is is every parent’s responsibility. Knowing when to back off, or making the protective wing “invisible” is what instills confidence in the child.
I have just recently started allowing my son to bike around our subdivision by himself. I stand outside the garage door pacing fretfully when he is out of sight.
Good post! Good job!
@Mike - Thanks. Excellent comments around confidence and responsibility. May your Garage door always close with your son safely inside.
Chuck, thanks for posting this. What a terrible and scary thing for you to experience as a kid, and I know it has always stuck with you. You’re such a good dad.
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Thanks Bunchy!
Wow. That was powerful. I felt I was really there and really imagined the woman and then felt the fear. I think maybe because I’ve experienced a lot of those things in my lifetime I was really able to transport to that place and time. Phew! Now I need to relax. What an incredible memory. Those things never go away. I wish adults realized how much they profoundly effect their children and even the other children around them. The one thing that you have now is a self-awareness and a knowing that you will always protect your children from exposure to these types of things. The world just gets more complicated. I guess it’s up to us as parents to be as uncomplicated as we can be to help our children weather this world.
@SWC - I hadn’t written about this before. I was a little shaken when I read it back through. Your comment..
I guess it’s up to us as parents to be as uncomplicated as we can…
is gold.
Haunting memories can shape but fortunately in your case, not paralyze.
We live in a very small town but I can see myself “tailing” my kids just as you described the first time I let them trek alone to the ice cream store or the village market across the bridge.
Great post.
@Ed - something tells me you’ll be good at tailing the kids when the time comes. There may be a little ninja in you. If you can manage to get through it without counting aloud I think you can consider it a victory.
It’s how you let them shape you that counts, I think.
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@Xbox - True enough, though the shape they work themselves into isn’t always definable for a very long time. Best to be on the lookout I think.
Letting your kids earn your trust can pay off big dividends for you both. And, should things go awry for one reason or another, the sense of when it’s appropriate to intervene is definitely shaped by your own past experiences. Interesting observation, Chuck.
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Thanks Tom. Your comments are much appreciated!
The truth is, there’s nothing we, as fathers, can do to protect our children completely from witnessing or, god help us, experiencing things like what you saw. But the fact that you’re looking out for him, ensuring his safety will benefit him for the rest of his life. Its funny how certain things from our pasts haunt us forever. Sometimes they are seemingly random…sometimes not. But those experiences make us better parents in the long run. Some day, maybe your boy will write an article entitled “the day my dad followed me to the market”, and will thank you for being a good dad. The main thin is that he went there, did what he said he’d do, and came back. The mark of a good dad, no? Nicely written.
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Thanks Matt. I’ve got 4 kids in all age groups and what you say is very true, though I hate it. I hate being helpless in so many instances. The fact that you can’t protect them from everything, or anything depending on how broad the discussion. Thanks for your contribution. Always appreciated!
Chuck, you are so dead on that past experiences still haunt us to this day. I am paralyzed sometimes at the thought of every action, every experience that my kids encounter will have an impact on them.
I really enjoyed this post.. great job.
PS. Thanks for your incredible answer on my question today and the interaction with other commenters. It was a leap of faith to actually “open” my views and discuss them in such a public forum. I normally stick to safe on my blog.
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Hi Kim. I hear you. Paralyzed is an apt description.
Regarding the answer to your question… my pleasure. I have to admit it was not easy and probably took more thought that the other questions. It required me to really consider where I stand.
What a horrible memory. Breaks my heart.
My son just turned 15 and I can only now allow him to ride his bike to his friends house… probably 5-6 miles away. Kills me… now he wants to get his learners permit to drive. Letting go with him is so much harder than it was with my daughter.
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Hi Chuck,
I came over to this post from your reply on ‘What Dad’s Really Think’.
The small increments of ‘letting go’ we have to do as parents really are shaped by our own experiences. I witnessed and experienced similar things as a child myself, and I could almost feel the anxiety you described while watching your son make his flagship journey alone to the store. I think it’s great that you were purposeful in your parenting, and didn’t just send him off without thought simply based on his age. I agree with both you and @SWC in that “I guess it’s up to us as parents to be as uncomplicated as we can…” in ourselves, because there sure are a lot of complicated people out there we’ll have to explain to them about.
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