Standing Your Ground

I've been thinking about my dad a lot lately. The news reminds me of him - and not just because he rarely missed the news.

My dad was many things - loved family member, career firefighter, award winning trap shooting coach. Many of his family and friends believe that he was also suffering from some kind of undiagnosed, unmedicated illness. Even people who knew Dad only casually were likely to use the word "paranoid" to describe him.

His worries were constant, overwhelming, and often irrational. He worried about everything. He worried that someone would charm his beautiful, younger wife away from him. He worried that people would judge him because his wife worked, or because he'd had to take early retirement for medical reasons. He worried that his kids were trying to make him look bad by acting up. He worried about the government (and whether they would take his guns). He worried that he'd become an invalid. And he worried, constantly, that younger, stronger men were going to victimize him.

Dad had been a star athlete in school, and had spent his adult life doing jobs that took physical strength. I only knew him as a senior citizen; I was 22 when he died at age 78. The older he got, the more he worried that he'd be the victim of a crime.

Once, my sister and her husband were staying with my parents. My brother in law said or did something that upset Dad, and he flew at my brother in law and began beating him. My brother in law responded in kind. My mom and my sister had to drag them off of each other, right there in the living room. When they both demanded to know what in the hell was going on, Dad said, with no trace of irony or embarrassment, that since there was a younger, stronger man in the house, he was afraid that he'd "take over" and become the new "man of the house."

He wasn't worried about romance with my mom - she didn't like this son in law, and I think that the feeling was mutual. He wasn't comparing incomes, since he was retired and Mom was the major breadwinner. He was worried about status, and was sure that his was in jeopardy, just because someone else was younger and stronger. And, he decided to defind that status by inflicting violence, on a family member, because that apparently made sense to him.

(No, charges were not filed.)

I thought about Dad as I listened to the news reports of a statement given by an elderly man about an incident at his home. He said that there had been a "big black man, over six feet" tall on his porch. He was sure that the man was "reaching for the door handle" and that he was in danger. So, he shot the "man," once through the door and once after he'd fallen.

As most people know by now, the "man" was a 16 year old kid trying to pick up his siblings. He'd accidentally gone to a house on 115th Terrace when he was looking for a house on 115th Avenue.

Also in the news in the same week are a young woman shot because her car used a driveway as a turnaround, two young women shot when they accidentally tried to get into the wrong car in a parking lot, and a 6 year old and her dad, shot after the ball she was playing with rolled into a neighbor's yard. 

My dad had a history of, shall we say, aggrassively defending his property. I cannot picture him hunting down a jogger because he thought they "didn't belong" in the neighborhood. But he did once sleep on the patio with a gun all summer long, and once chased my friends down the street with a loaded shotgun after they knocked on my window at night. If Dad thought that you'd set foot on his property uninvited, all bets were off.

So, as you might imagine, I can picture my family ending up on one of those news shows. I can picture my dad becoming frightened, picking up his gun, and something going very wrong. I feel, very deeply, the sentiment of "there but for the grace of God go I."

I can imagine him being horrified if someone actually died, but I'm very sure that he would also double down on his reasoning. He wouldn't use the word "frightened" - he'd say "threatened." "I felt threatened. They were on my property without permission." That, in his mind, would mean that he was justified.

 No one wants to think that their loved ones are, or could be, dangerous. That's because we equate "dangerous" with "evil" or "a bad person." The reality is, everyone can be dangerous under the right circumstances. It's an ordinary reality. Feeling unsafe or victimized is almost a guarantee that a person will lash out. But aside from the reality that ordinary people, who are not evil, can be a danger, we also need to also acknowledge that feeling that you are in danger does not mean that you are in danger.

Our laws, and most people's moral codes, say that you are justified in defending yourself or others. But, what if you feel endangered, but there is no actual danger?

It's a muddier reality than one in which it's easy to separate "bad" people from "good" people - but the idea that those divisions are easy, accurate and self evident has always been fiction.

And yes, reacism is absolutely a huge problem that must be addressed. I'm not including it here simply because fixing it will not eliminate all of these problems. In our case, my brother in law and my terrified teenage friends are white.

So, I find myself wondering what I'd say to my dad, if I could, and if he'd listen. Part of that is easy; I decided years ago that it's my job to do or say the right thing even if it is not recieved well (or at all). I have doubts about whether my dad would be interested in hearing my thoughts on the matter. But I find myself formulating them, anyway.

Maybe no one else will want to hear them, either. But I'm going to share them, anyway. Here's what I think people who might be a danger need to hear.

Look, I know that you are not a bad person. I know that your intent is actually to protect. But what you are doing is dangerous.

I know that you're thinking, "The world is a dangerous place! I am just reacting!" But look at the odds. You have decided that ordinary actions by other people equate to danger. "People are hurt every day!" you say. "They get killed going to school, or shopping, or to work." Yes; they are, by and large, hurt by people with guns. You are feeling unsafe, by and large, because other people have guns, but you think that you having one makes you safer. If more guns equalled more safety, society would be getting safer and safer every day, because there are record numbers of guns in our homes. But is society safer and safer?

And how often are people knocking at your door dangerous? The percentages are tiny. Thieves and rapists and murderers generally just do not walk up and knock on your door. They break in. So, your best defense is not a gun, it's locks. Have locks on your windows. Lock your doors. Even if you're home, lock your door. Even if someone has knocked already and your door is unlocked, lock it. If they reach for the handle, lock it.

And if they try to break it down, or if they break your windows? Then, you can know, absolutely, that they mean you harm. You can defend your home with the certainty that you are justified.

But if someone just knocks, or if they simply walk on to your property? Tell them to leave. Most times, they will. Seriously, they will. If they don't, call 911, announce that cops are on their way, and hunker down,

But until someone engages in a hostile act, assume that they are not a threat. Deciding that everyone is bad and out to get you will mean that most times, you are wrong. (Plus, it makes you miserable.) Identifying a threat means actually seeing a threat, not just observing that a person exists. You are not being vigilant by being wrong. You are not becoming a target by giving others around you safety. If you don't want others to shoot you just because you are there, you can't shoot them for it.

You know that people are the real threat, and that weapons only act when people operate them. So avoid being one of the people who uses them badly.

Then, you will be safer, and I will be safer, and our neighborhoods and cities will be safer - which will make you happier.

Checks and Taxes

 When my middle daughter was in high school, we were eating as a family at the pizza place where she worked part time. This daughter said that she and her friends were planning on going to a movie that weekend, and asked for movie and snack money. We said sure, and handed over some cash, probably a $20. While she was doing something else, her boss pulled us aside and said, "Do you have any idea how much she makes? She can pay for her own movie and snacks!" She was a delivery driver, getting significant tip money; he mentioned an average day's tips.

"I know," I said. "But she's still a kid, so we cover most stuff she wants to do. She only has to pay her own band fees, gas and insurance." He looked at us like we were crazy, and he was deeply unimpressed with our parenting.

"Oooookay," he said with raised eyebrows. "I just didn't know if you knew."

Yeah, we knew. We just figured that it's better for our kids to figure out how to handle money, and potentially make stupid choices, while they're kids and all their necessities are covered. Maybe that wasn't a great plan - I don't know. But even years later, it still seems like the best plan.

When the kids were little, and they got money for birthdays or Christmas, we helped them count out coins to pay tithing, encouraged them to put something in their college funds, and then pretty much let them decide what to do. By the time they were old enough to have their own jobs and paychecks, we were even more hands off. Don't want to save, or pay tithing? Want to spend it all on candy? Well, OK, but you may not like how that turns out, long term, but go for it. We have two who hate to spend any money, including for things that they really want, and two who would spend it before it was in their hands if they could. They all needed to figure out how to make money choices.

Having kept most of their choices in their own hands, I was really puzzled when my oldest, at roughly 11 or 12, said something about us "taking" money from the kids "to pay taxes." She said this with a considerable amount of anger, and narrowed eyes, but when I said, "What money?" she snapped, "Nothing. Never mind."

I wondered what kind of odd thing she was thinking of, but it was so far from reality that I just brushed it aside. In a few months, she brought it up again - "when you took our money to pay taxes." Again, when asked about what she meant, she responded, "Never mind."

As years went by, she'd bring it up not very often, but consistently once or twice a year. Sometimes, we'd be the only ones there, and sometimes other people would be with us, but we could not get her to explain what she meant.

We could not figure out what she was talking about. Did she mean a child credit on our income tax? We explained what that meant, and she looked blank. We tried very hard to explain all of our taxes - that income tax came out of paychecks before we got them, that our property taxes were paid with our mortgage payments, that sales tax was built into prices. We explained repeatedly over the years. She was probably 14 or 15 when I told her, again, "We have never, ever used money that belonged to you kids for taxes. Ever. We don't even use your money (meaning the savings accounts they'd had since birth, to which we contributed with every paycheck) for things like camp."

She rolled her eyes and said, "Whatever you used it for then."

"Used WHAT for?"

But the only response I ever got when asking her what money she meant was, "Nothing," or, "Never mind." It was maddening.

As she became an adult, we heard about it less often, but she'd still bring it up, and still refuse to explain what she meant.

When she was in her 30s, she made a passing reference again, and I said, "OK, you are going to have to explain to me what you are talking about, because we have never had any earthly idea."

She looked a little bit sheepish, but actually answered. "When you made us sign over our state fair checks."

Starting when they were literally in diapers, the kids usually entered something in the county or state fair - coloring, photography, and when they were older, scrapbooks and baking. We adults entered photos, crafts, baked goods. The kids wanted to be like us and get ribbons. The state fair also gave kids cash awards. It was $1 for a third place, $2 for a second place, and $3 for a first place. In reality, it usually just paid back the entry fees, which I think were $5 per child, but it was really exciting for the kids to feel that they'd won money.

Their first time entering the state fair was when the older kids were 7 and 8. They expected to be given cash, and were deeply disappointed when they were told it would be a check, and they had to wait for it to come in the mail.

When the checks came, they wanted to know how to spend them. We explained that checks were the same as Daddy's paychecks. They were used to watching us take their dad's paycheck and get it cashed every two weeks, but he cashed it at a casino. You can only do that after you're 21, we explained. "You have to take it to the credit union and sign it," we explained. "Then they'll hand you cash, or you could put it in your bank account."

"That'll take forever! When can we even go to the credit union?" Much complaining ensued. They wanted cash RIGHT NOW, because they'd already had to wait for the mail. This was despite the fact that they couldn't spend it at home, and couldn't go shopping without us.

"Well, as soon as you sign it, anyone can cash it," I said. "If you sign it, Dad can give you cash right now. Then when we get to the credit union, we can cash or deposit it." That sounded MUCH preferable to waiting, so they signed the checks and we handed them cash, probably $6 or $7 each.

The next year, they wanted to do the same thing - we asked, not assumed. Waiting is not a strong suit for children. They did it for years. Until they had their own paychecks coming in, and they handled checks themselves, they'd sign the fair checks, we'd hand them cash, and then we'd deposit the checks into their savings accounts. We told them we were depositing them into our account, but we weren't going to miss a few dollars.

I told her, "You signed the checks in order to cash them. We handed you cash for your checks, every single time. Then we deposited them in your bank accounts, so you actually got paid double for every one of those."

She looked stunned. "How much?"

"An average of $7 or $8 each. The year you won Grand Champion, I think it was $12."

"Oh." She looked sheepish again. "I thought it was a huge amount, like hundreds of dollars, and since I never had that much, I figured you guys took it."

"It was between $1 and $3 per ribbon, depending on placement."

"Oh."

I am just stunned, myself, by so much of this. My daughter has spent almost her entire life angry about something that she refused to discuss, even after bringing it up herself. That in and of itself is baffling. People, if something upsets you, talk to the people involved! This should have been an easy, quick fix, back when she was 12. Instead, we faced decades of, "Never mind." My daughter will avoid conflict whenever possible, so I'm sure that was her aim, but her actions actually created conflict. (If you bring something up, be prepared to discuss it! For everyone's sake!)

I'm also just baffled as to how a child who could read even when she got that first check, and who was always the one who opened the envelope with her check in it, did not know how much the checks were for. She understood decimals; we'd taught the kids that when writing things to do with money, things like prices, anything before "the period" was dollars, and behind it was cents. Plus, checks have the line with it written out - "six dollars and no/100 cents." Plus, she entered things in the fair up until she turned 18; in high school, her usual entry was her meticulously kept scrapbooks. She read the fair's entry packet, every year, and it spelled out the money involved. She also would have deposited those later checks herself, so she definitely ought to know what they said. How would she think that the checks were bigger when she was younger? Or that there was a separate check that she didn't see, but we cashed without a signature? Even if she misunderstood at 8, there were many more years when the process itself should have cleared up this confusion.

I just could not imagine how she wasn't clear on this. I'm an overexplainer, and the fair sent out a booklet, every year.

I think I've now figured it out, based on the first appearance of the "you took our money" complaint. That happened the year after her photo of a walrus took Grand Champion for the children's photo division. She got a huge purple rosette, and a ton of praise. Her uncle, a professional scenic and wildlife photographer, hung it in his living room (the only photo he displayed that wasn't his).

She was always worried about being out of step with her peers, or being wrong about anything, so she often took the opinions of other children as gospel. Kids have a tendency to take the word of their peers over their parents, anyway. I'll bet that when she mentioned earning Grand Champion to kids at school or at church, some kid said, "Wow, did you get a ton of money?" Instead of saying, "No way, the state fair doesn't hand out a ton of money," she started to worry that this kid knew something that she didn't. (She frequently worried that other people had access to information that was hidden from her.) Surely a Grand Champion got a ton of money! Where was it? She would not have accepted her own experience as making her the expert on this matter, even though she'd won the prize, and she'd entered for years, whereas the other kids may not even have known that the fair came with competitions for kids.

So, she decided that we took it. At least she decided that we had a good reason; fixating on "taxes" shows that she was starting to figure out how modern society works. At least she didn't figure that we partied with it.

I just cannot fathom this, though - that something that obviously made her so miserable was such an easy to explain misunderstanding. Why in the world did she not discuss this with us? Then again, would she have believed me when she was a kid? Obviously, she suspected us of something shady, when our entire motivation was to stop the complaining about waiting, by getting money into their hands as soon as the checks arrived. Note to self - just send complaining kids out of the room, and make them learn patience.

I'm just glad it's finally resolved. Good grief.

(I mean, it is resolved, right?)