After Boston, Is There Any Turning Back?

Like most people, I was elated over the weekend to learn that the terror is over in Boston. But I was foolish last week. I tried to shield my kids from the horrible Boston marathon bombings and the aftermath. I say I’m foolish because my oldest is 8 — just like Richard Martin was — and I should know better by now that he lives in a different world than I did when I was 8.

He lives in a world where tragedy, terrorism, school shootings, and lockdown drills are a normal part of  nightly dinner conversations and are carefully worked into classroom lectures. So when I saw the news this past Monday, my immediate thought was the same as most people I talked to.

Again? How can this be happening again?!

My next thought was that I didn’t have the strength to have another “important talk,” and see the confused, frightened look on my son’s face as I sat him down to explain that evil exists in this world, but that good always triumphs.

For the last few months, it’s been Sandy Hook and Hurricane Sandy (which was particularly tragic in our area), the sad death of a karate classmate, the realization of what a beloved aunt’s cancer battle really entails… maybe if I can spare him this one, I thought, I could preserve his innocence just a little longer.

But of course, when he went to school the next day, he heard all about it and began asking me for details as soon as the dismissal bell rang. He asked for the kind of details that no 8 year old should ever, ever be concerned with. He wanted to know how many people died. He wanted to know if any of them were young people. He wanted to know why anyone would do this, and if the police will kill them like the soldiers killed Osama Bin Laden. I started with the fact that there had been three deaths, with many other people hurt.

Here’s what he said: “That’s not so bad. It could have been worse. It could have been like the Twin Towers.” In that moment, I realized my sons are growing up in a world where we rank tragedies in terms of body counts, in which “only 3″ casualties makes it almost unremarkable. In this new world, when bombs can go off in a major city on a beautiful day during a highly attended athletic celebration, we can say “it could have been worse” because we know it could have been — we lived through 9/11 and haven’t forgotten the horrors of that day.

I don’t think it could be much worse for the families of the deceased, or for the spectators whose limbs were blown off, of course. The fear doesn’t get more real than the type felt by the residents who were in lockdown during the massive manhunt for the two terrorists.

But for those of us watching from afar, who did not have friends and family in the immediate danger zone, we’re desensitized to it all now. Sure, we mourn, we get angry, we pray, and we tear up with pride as we watch our nation come together and break into impromptu renditions of the Star Spangled Banner. But we’re not surprised or shocked anymore.

While this saddens me, I can at least take comfort from the fact that through these awful events, children are also seeing the best of humanity, heroism, courage, and patriotism. They can look for the “helpers,” as Mr. Rogers said, and always find them.

I just wish my kids could know what 8 felt like for my generation, where we derived our notion of good vs. evil from pro wrestling, Rocky movies, and Scooby-Doo. But after Boston, I’m not sure that’s possible.

RIP Mayor Koch, My First Boss

New York City Mayor Ed Koch gave me my first job. You see, we were in the middle of a water shortage in the early 1980s, and he took to the TV to appoint all New York City children his deputy mayors.

This was the closest thing I could find on YouTube about the Save Water campaign. (I love the kids’ accents!)

I was around 4 or 5 years old when this happened, and apparently, I took the job very seriously. I saw the perfect opportunity to flash my imaginary badge and start taking charge when my family took me to a NY Mets game and we went to the bathroom between innings. As we waited on line, in stall after stall, I heard flush after flush, and I started to get mad. Didn’t they know that there was a water shortage? Hadn’t they ever heard: “If it’s yellow, let it mellow, if it’s brown, flush it down” and all that?

I started yelling something to the effect of: “Hey everybody — listen up. I’m the deputy mayor, and you need to stop flushing all these toilets right now!!!”

Needless to say, I never lived this one down. But as I laughed about it today with my cousin, it made me realize how likeable and how New York — yes, I’m using New York as an adjective! — Mayor Koch really was. No matter what, I’ll always appreciate that he put his trust and faith in me and my fellow deputies that we could make a real difference in the world. That’s a big deal to a five year old, or at least it was to me.

Rest it peace, Mr. Mayor! It was a pleasure working for you.

 

A Few More Bullet Points on Gun Control

So I wrote this: The President is Right on Target With Gun Law Legislation.

I needed to share my thoughts about gun control, and many of my fellow parents have reached out to tell me they agree with my feelings on the matter. I might not have felt so strongly about it, had it not been for the fact that over the last month, my son has been coming home from school, and telling me about the lockdown drills he’s been doing in class. He was so proud of himself when he told me his clever idea to stay safe. “If anyone came into my classroom with a gun, I’d pretend I was already dead so they wouldn’t shoot me.” Did I mention he’s 8 years old? He should not be worrying about things like this.

Like Huffington Post writer Lisa Belkin wrote just after the Sandy Hook shootings, gun control is very much a parenting issue now. That’s why I decided to write down my thoughts, too — my raw, emotional thoughts — on the matter.

In response, gun supporters have been attacking what I wrote, which is no surprise. The experience has confirmed that there are a lot of angry gun owners out there! Because I don’t really want to engage them in such a public forum as the HuffPo comments section — frankly, some of them scare me — I thought I’d share a few additional thoughts here.

First, an admission: I screwed up. I didn’t properly research my gun terminology, so a good portion of the comments call me out for my ignorance, and to an extent, rightly so. I said “automatic” weapons, when I should have said “semiautomatic.” I had my editor make the correction for me. My bad. I’m not a firearms expert. I’m not a constitutional scholar, as I said in the piece. I’m just a concerned parent. Nitpicking every word I use and every analogy I make is choosing to ignore the crux of my argument, which is that having a national conversation about gun violence is a good thing.

Dispelling some false logic… Yes, if we took away every gun (which, of course, this administration is in no way, shape, or form saying it wants to do), the bad guys will find other ways to kill. After all, the terrorists used box cutters to take down airplanes and kill over 3,000 people. But saying that we didn’t ban box cutters, so therefore we shouldn’t change the gun laws is using false logic. For starters, we did overhaul our entire airport security screening processes after 9/11 to include not being allowed to take any sharp objects — from nail clippers to knitting needles — onto an airplane. We did not ban these items. We just adapted the way in which we’re allowed to use them. Furthermore, I understand that these new laws will probably not stop every determined criminal. There is no magical solution, unfortunately. But if rethinking some policies can spare even one innocent victim, isn’t it an option worth exploring?

Let’s talk politics. Did I mention that I’m a Republican, with many family members who own guns? I didn’t write the piece to go on some pro-Obama, liberal soapbox. However, there are those who believe that tampering with gun laws is just the beginning phase of our country turning into a dictatorship. They’d have you believe that Obama would send armies into the homes of its newly disarmed citizens, just like the Nazis did. That’s what the staunchest gun supporters would have you believe. Is that not being just a tad paranoid? Here’s what’s true: Until Newtown, when it came to gun violence and gun control, Obama avoided the topic like his election depended on it. Maybe it did. But after Newtown — after the election was already in the books — the public outcry demanded he take this issue on, and so he did.

Not all big cities with strict gun laws are overwhelmed by violence. I live in New York, where Mayor Bloomberg and Governor Andrew Cuomo have been far more outspoken than the president on gun violence. And guess what? New York is considered one of the — if not the — safest big city in the nation! Sure, there are still too many illegal guns on the streets, and still lots of work to be done, but at least we’re taking steps toward making the city and state safer.

Who decides who’s worthy of gun ownership? That was a question asked in response to my post. Obviously, whatever law is passed will clearly define that answer, the most obvious being that those with a history of violent crimes should not be permitted to own a gun. And to be sure that that doesn’t happen, criminal background checks have to be a must; as of now, they are not happening across the board. There needs to be a real process and real consequences, just as there is a process for getting a driver’s license or applying for a loan.

The Second Amendment still stands. People are still not getting that message. No legislation has suggested that we take away the right to bear arms. We are blessed to have that right, but anything taken to the extreme will have consequences, and therefore, we put exceptions in place when necessary. For instance, we hold freedom of speech sacred, but the exceptions are we cannot defame others, or yell “fire” in a movie theater. The very fact that we have amendments in the first place indicates that we are a nation that is willing to change and progress for the good of its people. If that means our right to bear arms will require being screened, trained, and recertified after a certain time period, than so be it.

The truth is I wish this issue would go away on its own and never come back. But after Columbine, Virginia Tech, Gabby Giffords, and the Aurora movie theater, we didn’t learn. Now we’ve added Newtown to the list.

We can’t just lay down and play dead. Not this time.

Taking Care of Our Own: Staten Island Strong!

I’ve often heard Staten Islanders say we live in the “Forgotten Borough,” and to some extent, it’s true. In the first couple of days after Sandy left a path of destruction all up and down the Northeast coast, most of what was shown on the news was about the ravaged Jersey Shore and the flooded NYC Subways. It wasn’t until a few days later that the world heard about what happened in Staten Island, where unfortunately, it was discovered was the place in which the most people died as a result of the storm. And if not for the incredibly brave first responders who made over 1,300 water rescues that night (1,300!), the number of deceased would have been even harder to bear.

(If you haven’t read my essay in The Huffington Post, I hope you’ll take a look.)

Because of the delayed reaction (and admittedly, also because of the sheer logistics of deploying government and charitable help to get here from out of state) Staten Islanders didn’t see any Red Cross trucks or FEMA representatives in those first few dark, terrible days. What they relied on was the overwhelming generosity of their fellow Staten Islanders.

Neighbors shared generator plugs, and helped each other pump out water and begin the cleanup process. They took displaced friends into their homes, and brought meals to the elderly. Around the Island, makeshift donation centers immediately started popping up at local bowling alleys, children’s party places, fitness clubs, and even out of people’s garages. Would-be marathoners turned their canceled runs into an opportunity to “run” supplies like batteries, flashlights, and nonperishable food to the most effected neighborhoods. On Halloween, just a couple of days after Sandy, trick-or-treaters went around not asking for candy, but handing out sandwiches. Local businesses stepped up and began offering their goods and services free of charge. The Staten Island Hilton filled its rooms, lobbies, and conference room areas with evacuees, and all of the supplies needed to keep them comfortable, clothed, and well fed.

Facebook and Twitter turned out to be the best way to share information so that volunteers knew where to distribute the massive amounts of donations that came pouring in. I tried to compile what I saw in my feeds here on the blog.  Slowly but surely, efforts became more organized, and volunteers were ready and waiting to take on their next assignment. And through it all, it was our local politicians who stood on the front lines, day in and day out, to help bring some attention to what Staten Islanders were going through, and ultimately, make sure the forgotten borough received the help it so badly needed. So James Oddo, Nicole Malliotakis, Vinny Ignizio, Andrew Lanza, and Michael Grimm — I applaud you, and I thank you!

Eventually, FEMA and the Red Cross did show up. As did Jon Stewart, Julianne Moore, and a handful of other celebrities. As the story unfolded on the evening news, the help started pouring in via private and corporate donations. And as I sit here writing this, it’s the eve of President Obama’s visit to Staten Island, I’m betting the first one he’s ever made. To think that the President will be walking around Miller Field tomorrow, where my kid plays baseball!

While we of course appreciate all of this very helpful and much needed assistance and acknowledgement, what Staten Islanders will remember the most about this tragedy is how we all pulled together for each other. From day one and still to this day, when the rest of the world forgot about us, Staten Islanders took care of their own. Through our strength, faith, and fortitude, we sure showed the world how unforgettable we truly are!


When It Comes to Penn State and Jerry Sandusky, I Hate Being Right

Picture this. You’re walking down a quiet street, and behind a parked car, you see a naked man – who you recognize to be a neighbor — sodomizing a young boy. You’re startled, but you decide to go home, sleep on it, and then call a friend to tell her the next day. She tells a friend, who then tells another friend. At a dinner party, you all decide that it would be best if you all kept the incident quiet to preserve the reputation of your neighborhood. You even continue making small talk with the neighbor, just so he doesn’t feel uncomfortable.

Unfathomable, isn’t it? Especially if you’re a parent, you know that you could never stand by and let something like this happen to someone’s son, just as you pray that another person wouldn’t let it happen to yours. But as you’ve probably heard by now, horrors worse than this took place on the Penn State University campus dating back to 1998. As we’ve learned with the release of the Freeh report this morning, a unanimous decision was made by Penn State bigwigs to let that animal Jerry Sandusky go about his business. There was no dissension in the ranks. No protest. No second thoughts. Not even as the stream of boys were being marched into the Penn State showers. Continue reading “When It Comes to Penn State and Jerry Sandusky, I Hate Being Right”

F-Bombs Away: The 4th of July Edition

Simpler days -- D's first 4th of July in 2009.

So yesterday, on our nation’s birthday, I f-bombed my 3 year old. OK, not to his face, but on the 76th trip up a flight of stairs into my cousin’s house to get him or his brother something (as the sweat poured off of me from the 97-but-it-feels-like-hell degree day), I had a moment I’m not proud of.

My aunt came in to report that his highness’ chicken nuggets were still cold. And I lost my cool. To give you some back story, I had just finished battling it out with him because the french fries I made him weren’t to his liking. He wanted crinkle cut, I made straight cut. His brother, the eldest heir, down in the yard at the bottom of the long staircase, was also in one of his brazen “I’m testing limits today” moods, and so he had been barking his royal orders at me, too: “Fetch me some seltzer, wench, and be sure it has plenty of ice.” OK, it was really, “mom, I asked you for seltzer five minutes ago!” but it definitely had a go-fetch-wench tone.

The rest of the day was full of changing D’s poop accidents (still working on that potty training thing!), breaking up fights over whatever toy both of them had to have at the exact same moment, and trying to get in one adult conversation without being interrupted (can you guess how that went?).

All the while, I felt like my family — whom I do truly, dearly love more than anything — was judging me. Not in the “how can you let your kids talk to you that way?” way. Or “why are you letting them run you ragged and making them a special dinner at a barbeque with numerous food options?” way. Oh no. In my family, my boys can do no wrong, and I’m the mean mom who needs to lighten up with them. Mind you, this is despite the fact that when I was growing up, I was taught to never talk back, and to suck it up if I didn’t approve of a relative’s party menu. But I digress…

I was the irresponsible one who served up the cold chicken nuggets, after all. Really, I rushed them out of the toaster oven because I’d grown tired of the nagging and whining about why they weren’t ready yet. And I was the one who forget to fetch J’s beverage, despite the fact that I was up in the house attending to his brother’s dinner, and he is perfectly capable of walking over to a cooler to help himself.

So when my aunt came in on behalf of my son to innocently question me about the temperature of the chicken nuggets, I took it in an entirely different way. I snapped, and blurted out: “Tell him to go f*** himself.” Yep, that’s just what I said, and once it slipped out of my lips, I wished I could take it back. If only I’d had a few pina coladas, I might have been more care-free. But alas, my fuse had been lit from earlier in the day, and finally, as we all awaited the fireworks, I put on a fireworks pre-show for my disapproving relatives to see. As I said, I’m not proud. I wish I can have a do-over for that one. I was just so worked up, hot, hungry (I barely had a moment to enjoy a bite or beer myself all day), and envious of everyone else that was having a grand old time while I clearly wasn’t.

Shortly after the f-bomb heard around the yard, my son left his freshly-warmed chicken nuggets in the dust to dart for the desserts being put out (yep, after all that!), and I excused myself to the bathroom to hide my tears of frustration. Please don’t misunderstand. My kids are really good and sweet most of the time. This was just one of those perfect storms of heat exhaustion, over-stimulation, spoiling relative overload, and me not being at my best.

A few minutes later, I heard my son whimpering. “What now?” I thought to myself? But then I realized that the fireworks had started and he was scared. This was no power play or bratty behavior in action — he truly needed me. At that moment, we both really just needed a hug. So I held him close and kissed him on the head, and we both said goodnight to our frightening day of fireworks.

PG Excuses to Keep the Kids Away from Your Grown Up Entertainment

There’s been an awful lot of “Mommy Porn” lately, hasn’t there? I’m not here to judge, oh no.  I’m just making an observation that pop culture is shifting a little by realizing that we gals like a little Rated R fun to be enjoyed after the kids’ bedtimes, too. Not all of it is of a sexual nature of course… sometimes it’s just really cool to be entertained by books or shows that portray strong female roles. And if we can get a little eye candy to go along with it, why not?

In any event, since kids today are both nosy and technologically savvy, there may come a day when you have to come up with a quick response if your child starts snooping around your Kindle Fire, DVR selction, or finds your movie theater ticket stubs.

So, here, I give you some PG-rated back stories for five recent pop culture phenoms to throw your kids off your trail. They’ll at least buy you enough time to  go password protect your stuff!

50 Shades of Grey  – And purple, and red, and green… basically it’s what the couch looks like after years of accumulated  juice spills, baby spit up, and marker madness. Which reminds me, go clean your room!

Game of Thrones – A noble way to describe the potty training showdown that all moms must survive. Would you be a dear and show your brother how nice you sit on the “iron throne”?

Magic Mike – I’m not sure what Sally told you her mom saw, but my movie night was a story about one parent’s quest to book the most popular and expensive birthday party magician in town.

Hung – It’s a documentary about how to get all of your laundry put away in one day. Do you want to help match up the socks?

The Walking Dead – I wouldn’t watch anything with scary zombies. It’s just a silly way to describe how moms and dads feel during those first few sleep-deprived months of parenthood (and ever since!). Hey, isn’t it past your bedtime?

There you have it! Happy reading and viewing!