Wednesday, November 23, 2011

And so today, my world it smiles

In my office every year, there's a "Giving Tree" that has paper ornaments with wishes for gifts from children at a local shelter. The kids are as young as 1 year old and as old as 17, and the gifts range from a winter coat to blocks. Every year I go up and read the tags and try to pick just one, and end up with 3-4. And I always feel like it's not enough.

My heart literally breaks when I see the things that these kids ask for. Many are from broken homes, their young lives torn apart by parents, family members and guardians consumed by drugs, alcohol, abuse, violence... all the things that no child should ever have to experience, yet so many do.

I wish that these children -- or anyone -- never had to deal with these types of things, these horrors and abuses that force them out of the world of a child into one that is far crueler, far more desperate and far more dangerous than I have ever known.

But they do. And if a winter coat or set of blocks or toy kitchen or a Dora doll can provide these kids with a brief light, a small measure of hope, in what has been a hard life, then it's worth the sacrifice of a few dollars.

In this season of thanks, I am thankful that my parents raised me in a home where -- even if we couldn't have everything we wanted -- we had more than we need: shelter, food, clothes, and most importantly love and support. Showing me what a strong, vital marriage is -- hard work and selflessness mixed with equal parts passion and humor -- gave me the faith to believe that I find that, too,

I am thankful that I have two brothers who, being  fathers and husbands themselves, taught me that being a good husband and good father doesn't mean "giving in" to your spouse or "sacrificing your life." Instead, it means taking a leap of faith that giving yourself over to your wife and children will bring you so much more than you could ever have alone.

I am thankful that I have friends who know how vain, moody, and/or strange I can be... and still stand by me.

I am thankful that I have my amazing, kind, supportive and incredibly beautiful wife, who shows me every day what love is and what it can be, and how giving in to that love and returning it can bring you a happiness that is impossible to describe.

I am thankful that I have a happy, healthy, growing daughter who has taught me more about myself and the world I live in than any college course could ever do, challenging me to be a better man and make the world a better place.

But I am most thankful that I have been given so many blessings -- health, family, friends, love and security -- that many don't have. I am humbled by these gifts, and eternally grateful for all that I have.

Happy Thanksgiving, and God bless you and your loved ones.

Tuesday, November 15, 2011

On Penn State and responsibility

As you know from reading this blog -- and the title of the blog itself -- I am a dad. A new(ish) Dad. And I admittedly am learning on the job every day. Some of that learning is fun (Where are my daughter's ticklish spots? What's her favorite bedtime story?); some of it not so much (What are the signs of an ear infection? How do I sleep-train my daughter?)...

I can tell you one thing I didn't need to learn, tho. I didn't need to learn that a child is vulnerable, maybe the most vulnerable thing in the world. Vulnerable to sickness. Vulnerable to a new world that might not be fully be baby-proofed. And vulnerable to those who prey on them.

Those like Jerry Sandusky, the alleged pedophile at Penn State.

I tried to hold off writing this; I really did. I do believe in innocence until proven guilty. I believe in due process. But when a crime like this -- one so heinous that it shakes you truly to your core -- is alleged, I go blind. Blind to reason and justice and, frankly, logic.

Sandusky -- allegedly -- took advantage of young boys who came to his Second Mile charity foundation seeking guidance. Many of them came from single family or broken homes, looking for something or someone that would help them escape what I'm sure were awful situations. What they got was far, far worse.

They asked for help. Instead, they got a predator who was -- allegedly -- only too happy to take advantage of that need, that want, to feed his own sickness. To me -- again, if guilty -- Sandusky should go to prison for the rest of his life, where he will be subject to a Hell that monsters like him deserve. It's well known that child molesters and pedophiles are the most hated, most reviled, most ostracized members of any prison community. They are the ones that murderers, thieves and rapists look down. Men with no moral compass know a true monster when they see one.

But this is not just about one man who took advantage of children who were vulnerable. This is also about responsibility, more specifically moral responsibility.

There's no question that, when confronted by the reports that a predator was in their midst, using his position and influence in the football program and access to the facilities, the leaders in the Penn State community chose to bury the truth rather than confront it. The firings and resignations of the last two weeks -- academic, institutional and athletic leaders all have been dismissed, chose to leave or have been placed on leave -- are proof of that.

Many of these individuals claim that they "followed the rules" in reporting what they saw or what they knew to their higher-ups. That may be true, and -- legally at least -- was a responsible move.

But what about going further? What about realizing that a child often has neither the mental capacity to understand nor courage to report to an adult that another adult has taken advantage of them? Some children barely have the courage or smarts to tell a teacher when a classmate steals their pudding at lunch or hits them at recess, let alone that they have been sexually assaulted by someone they know and probably trust.

Now remember that, to many of these children, that adult was a "friend" who gave them gifts, took them on trips, and told their parents that he was "helping them to a better future."

So, confronted with an unspeakable crime, the coaches, administrators and leaders at Penn State chose to keep it in house. Take care of it their way. Not go to the police, protect the children, and stop a monster.

Those leaders, those pillars of the Penn State community, had a moral obligation -- as self-described teachers and leaders of men -- to report this and try to put a stop to it. And they failed.

And those children paid the price.