Safety Rules

I felt the need to pause the television show we were watching recently and deliver an Important Parental Lecture to my 15 year old.

We were watching one of my favorite shows, a crime drama. A potential witness to a kidnapping was describing how he was nervous, watching a teenager he took to be intoxicated leaving with a man, until he noticed that the man was with a woman who seemed to be his wife - "Then, I figured, it was safe." As I described the moment to my husband the next day, he said, "Oh, you must have come unglued at that point."

My husband knows the story, the story that all of my kids have heard, about one of the most traumatic things that happened in our community when I was growing up. A girl from our congregation at church disappeared, along with her best friend. They were taken, and murdered, by a husband and wife serial killer team. (See "No, Not Cereal...") It doesn't matter if you're Gerald Gallego and Charlene Williams (responsible for the death of the girls from my town) or Paul and Karla Bernardo, a young, beautiful murderous Canadian couple who participated equally, or Cameron and Janice Hooker, with a dominant partner and one who simply goes along. No one can assume that a wife, or a woman, means safety.

My 15 year old is too trusting and naive anyway (a trait that I fear she gets from me). She once received phone calls and e-mails from a stranger that set off all kinds of mental alarms for her dad and me, but none for her. She explained that she felt "it was OK, because she's a woman," and my immediate, gut response was, "Do you know how many of the convicted Manson Family killers were women between the ages of 18 and 21? Three out of five!"

I don't know if that's "good" parenting or not, but I do feel that it's necessary.

Again, I found myself, with the TV program paused, saying, "Never, never never assume that a woman or a couple means that it's safe."

"I know, Mom. They told us that in my Red Cross classes." She's very proud of being a Red Cross Certified Babysitter. She started recounting things the instructor said about how to avoid being a victim - throw whatever you might have in your hands, scream, wet yourself, make a scene, make yourself an unappealing target.

That's fine, but I felt that I had to explicitly warn her again that danger may not look like danger. I reminded her about the girl I knew. Two teens were approached by a woman, a woman a good six inches shorter than my daughter, and offered a job putting flyers under windshield wipers. "They're both dead." Her eyes widened, and I worried, again, that she doesn't remember things that might be important some day.

This isn't the first time I've stopped in the middle of a program to have these discussions. I did the same thing once with three of my kids, two teens and an adult. The subject then was something that happened in 1974 at Lake Sammamish State Park in Washington. An attractive, well dressed, articulate young man with his arm in a sling approached a young woman and asked her for help loading his sailboat onto his car. "What's the red flag here?" I asked. They all looked rather blank. "Something about this scenario should be setting off warning bells. What is it?"

My youngest offered, "He's asking her to leave where she is and go someplace else with him." While I was gratified that she'd internalized one of the safety rules that we'd given her, that wasn't what I was looking for. None of them could think of anything unusual or dangerous about the request.

I pointed out, "How is he going to sail with his arm in a sling?" The younger two went, "Oh!" as the mental lightbulb went on.

My second born, who was 25 at the time, said, "Yeah - I wouldn't notice that at all. It wouldn't occur to me that anything was wrong."

"That," I informed her, "is what keeps me awake at night." She's bright and reasonably well informed, but she doesn't read people or situations well. I worry that it paints a figurative target on her chest.

The attractive young man in question was Ted Bundy. The sling was merely a prop. His arm was just fine - and there was no sailboat. He approached several young women at the park that day. Most turned him down. Two - Janice Ott and Denise Naslund - agreed to help, and died.

I hate the fact that friendliness or helpfulness can be fatal.

Sometimes, when we have these discussions, I can tell that my kids have grown up hearing different safety rules than my generation did. I once paused a program about a workplace shooting. Everyone in the office had been shot, but one was still alive, and attempted to crawl toward the phone while the shooter was still there. Hitting the pause button, I demanded, "What do you do in that situation?" - if you're in the midst of a group shooting.

Both of my teens immediately answered, "Play dead." Without prompting, they both said that the correct response was to hit the floor when the shooting started, and stay there, playing dead, until the shooter was gone. "Then you can dial 911."

I was glad that they both knew the answer that I was looking for, the answer that just might keep them alive.

I was sad that they live in a world where being involved in a mass shooting is seen as a possibility.

Letting It Go

All art is, by its very nature, ambiguous. Everyone will experience it differently, even if they agree on the theme or subject. You yourself will experience it differently at different times.

Whenever someone says that their interpretation is the only one, I get a bit annoyed. First, are they the author? If so, I cut them a bit of slack, because they created it. Still, it may have spoken to someone in a way that the author did not forsee or expect.

Nothing has quite dominated the entertainment landscape in recent memory the way the movie Frozen and its music has. So, naturally, I've read and heard a lot about "what it really means." Some of it is perceptive, and some borders on delusional, if you ask me. Still, I feel compelled to add my voice, because I thought that certain things were obvious, but I don't see them in many discussions.

Discussion of Frozen must include discussion of the juggernaut that is "Let It Go." I do not recall any song saturating popular culture the way this one has. Good heavens, it's everywhere.

And it's gorgeous. It's beautiful music. It's fun lyrics. To my mind, though, too many people stop at the "empowerment anthem" take, and don't look any deeper.

Sure, we're thrilled for Elsa that she's not huddling, terrified, alone in her room any more. I like to think that, had her parents lived, they would have quashed that, but (disturbingly) they don't seem to have discouraged it. Obviously, it's not healthy. Of course we're happy for her.

BUT.

There's some very large problems with deciding that this is the pivotal moment, that it's all about her breaking free and living her own life. She's still alone, for one. She won't let anyone near her. Isolation is isolation. Her current choices have made a mess for everyone else, too. Her orphaned sister feels even more abandoned. The kingdom that her parents cherished is without leadership. And, oh yeah, - "You kind of set off an eternal winter. Everywhere." These things are bad.

So, we have to look at the before and after, the cause and effect.

Elsa is different than other people. She has an ability that few have. (She controls snow and ice.) It doesn't worry her or make her feel special - it just is. Most of the time, she uses it for fun. Then, accidentally, she hurts her sister, Anna. Her sister is as much to blame - she didn't listen - but Elsa feels that it's her fault.

Those the family turns to for help unwittingly reinforce the idea that it was, indeed, Elsa's fault. Her ability, what sets her apart, was the cause, they say. She can't control it, which is dangerous. Others will fear her and her ability, and may strike out at her in anger or fear. So, the ability must be squashed and ignored. It's what's best for everyone.

But Elsa can't squash it. It's still there. And they're right - she can't control it. So, she hides. She equates squashing her ability and isolating herself with being "good." To be a "good girl," she can't be herself, or be around other people.

It's important to remember here that being embarrassed or shunned was not her primary concern. Her biggest fear was hurting someone, especially someone that she loved. She's willing to be miserable if it keeps them safe.

Of course, that can't go on forever, especially when she has to take on adult responsibilities. She must be around others. And, because that ability is still there, and because she can't control it, it shows up in the most inconvenient ways, at the most inconvenient times.

So, Elsa runs. She has to get away from other people. When she's truly alone, she thinks, she'll be free. She can be herself, and let what makes her different loose, give it free reign. She can do anything she wants to. "No right no wrong, no rules for me," she sings. When she stops trying to be "good," she'll be happy, she's sure.

But life doesn't work that way. Her sister feels abandoned, and that hurts even more because of the loss of their parents. The citizens of the kingdom feel abandoned, because they counted on her and she left them. Plus, the actions that Elsa did take have endangered everyone's health and safety. She was afraid that she might hurt someone, and now she's potentially hurt hundreds or thousands of people, and she doesn't know how to fix it.

Because she's never learned how to manage her abilities or feelings, how to truly cope in healthy ways, she just runs farther. She feels like "a fool," she fears harming others, but she just can't see any way out except more of what she's already done. The problem is, none of that has worked.

While it's a lovely song, I dislike focusing so much on this moment, because things are such a mess here. Nobody is happy; nobody is safe.

A lot has been written and said about two of the movie's lessons, that evil can come in an attractive, smiling package, and that the love of your family is "true love." Disney and its subsidiary companies have explored both of those ideas in many ways in recent years. Gone is the idea that the villain will be ugly; look at ABC's Once Upon A Time with Lana Parilla and Rebecca Mader. Look at the new Maleficent and Angelina Jolie. Both Once Upon A Time and Maleficent have also had "true love's kiss" be delivered by a family member, by a mother (or "godmother") to a child. I think that recognizing those lessons is extremely valuable.

I think, though, that the powerful lesson taught in the last few scenes of Frozen speaks just as loudly. Elsa, Anna, indeed the entire kingdom, are not safe and happy when Elsa is isolating herself and denying what makes her different. They aren't safe or happy when she just unleashes her power. Everyone is both safe and happy when she learns to control and apply that power.

Think about a power that most of us have - the power of speech. We eagerly teach our tiny children to speak, to recognize and use words. We're thrilled when they do. But almost from that very first moment that we ask our little diaper clad cherubs to say "mama" and "dada," we teach them that there's a proper place and time for words, and there's some words we shouldn't say. We shush them in quiet places like church or a waiting room. We teach them to wait their turn when others are talking. And, the older they get, the more restrictions we put on what words are OK. It's not OK to call other kids names and hurt their feelings. It's not OK to lie. It's not OK to bully or gossip. Once we start hitting adulthood, there's actually laws - slander, plagiarism, perjury, even advertising laws - that govern what's OK to say and what's not. Despite the fact that speech is important - indeed, almost necessary - we can't just unleash it and let it run where it will. We shouldn't "let it go."

Any other ability or aspect of human personalities is the same way. It doesn't matter if you can freeze things, conjure fireballs, read minds, talk, build, create, teach or anything else. It's not in squashing and denying it or in turning it loose that we'll be happy and productive. It's all about control and application.

I think that's what Elsa (and everyone else) has learned by the time we leave her creating a skating rink for delighted citizens, with friends and family around her. Sure, there were people who reacted with fear or anger, but they were the minority. Sure, it's possible to hurt others, but it's not inevitable. It's not a choice between being "good" and "no rules." Using this gift wisely is the goal.