Three recent news stories have sent shudders down my parental spinal column: the lost (and found) Japanese boy, the killing of Harambe the gorilla, and the sentencing of the Stanford University swimmer convicted of sexually assaulting an unconscious woman.
First, the one with the happy ending. For the entire six days that seven-year-old Yamato Tanooka was lost in the bear-populated mountains of northern Japan, I tuned in to the search with baited breath, praying that he’d been found safely.
Scenario: boy misbehaves on family hike, father loses temper, leaves boy on side of the road to teach him a lesson, allegedly returns just a few minutes later, boy has disappeared. Frantic national search ensues, international community decries bad parenting, parents are panicked and contrite.
Resourceful boy stumbles upon abandoned military hut where he stays warm, finds running water, and survives until a search team tracks him down. Boy leaves hospital in good health, he apologizes, father apologizes, end of story. But not the questions about what the father did in the heat of the moment: lose his temper and commit an act that could have ended up with him losing his son forever.
Yes, it was a stupid way to punish bad behavior, and of course we should never lose our heads, even momentarily, and intentionally expose our children to danger. But before we judge too harshly, haven’t we all been there and done something as a parent that we wish we could take back? I plead guilty.
Just a few years ago I was driving through Boston at rush hour with a couple of teenagers squabbling in the back. It was hot, we were behind schedule, and the endless rotaries that are peculiar to Boston city streets ensured that we were going around and around in circles. Sweat trickling down my back, head pounding, it would have taken very little to make me snap, but two kids fighting over nothing was a guarantee. After a couple of warnings, I finally had had enough. Teeth clenched, eyes on fire, I roared, “get out!”
At last, blessed silence. “You heard me, get out of the car!” I screamed. Looking back, I shudder — definitely not one of my proudest parenting moments. Defiant, but definitely more scared of me, their suddenly crazy mother, they complied. And like the father in Japan, I drove off.
But there are some key differences. First, we were in a city. They were teenagers. They were together. I went two blocks before I pulled over and watched them approach in the rearview mirror. Did I ever lose sight of them? No. (Do I wish I had? Perhaps.) When they reached the car, I told them to get in. At first they refused. Then, when offered the alternative — get a cab and take a train home, they reluctantly got in.
Would I have done what Yamato’s dad did? No. Can I understand why he did it? Yes, absolutely. I’m also sure he’ll never do something like that again. A painful lesson stretched out for days in front of a global audience will do that to you. And oh, yes, the possibility that his son could have died on the mountain.
Next, the killing of a beloved and rare gorilla at the Cincinnati Zoo. Authorities announced that no charges would be filed against the mother of the little boy who scampered away from her and into the gorilla habitat, necessitating a life or death decision — his life or the gorilla’s. Despite the world outcry and in spite of the fact that my heart breaks for poor Harambe, I don’t think zoo officials had a choice.
Endless video analysis will provoke debate on that subject for years, but frankly, given the unpredictable nature of the wild kingdom, I believe they had to shoot to kill. Here’s another incident where the actions (or non-actions) of a parent are put under a microscope.
Most unfortunate incidents require a series of events that culminate in a perfect storm, and this is exactly what happened in Cincinnati. First, the zoo did not have adequate barriers in place to prevent a mischievous boy from breaking through. Second, the mom took her eyes off her son at a most unfortunate time. And last but not least, this determined and nimble young lad had one goal in mind and would not be deterred.
Today Will is one of the quickest humans alive and this penchant for speed became evident the moment he walked on two legs. How many times did I chase him as he ran lickety-split headfirst into one scrape and then another; how many times did I panic when I moved my gaze for one moment and returned to find he had vanished?
There was the time Molly and I took him to the mall, turned around, and we both had lost him. Hearts pounding and hyperventilating, we frantically ran around looking for him. We found him clutching his newly purchased Power Ranger in front of the toy store manfully holding back his tears as his eyes searched the floor for his lost mom and his sister.
So anyone who castigates the mother for somehow “letting” her son enter the gorilla enclosure shouldn’t throw stones at glass houses. I can be happy that she won’t be prosecuted at the same time that I cry for a beautiful animal’s life cut tragically short.
And finally, shame on the judge who gave Brock Turner a ridiculously short and insufficient six-month sentence. Shame on the young man himself who blames “the party life” instead of taking full responsibility for his actions. And shame on his father, who laments the lost smile of his son because of 20 minutes of bad behavior.
In an ironic twist Judge Aaron Persky is said to have captained the lacrosse team at Stanford where Turner was a star swimmer. His light sentence plays right into the hands of those who decry the tight elitist network of the male college athlete and the stereotypes of bad behavior and misogyny that often come with it. Of all the authority figures in these three sad stories, he is the most reprehensible. Absolutely. Go ahead. Criticize him. Recall him. He deserves it.
