Are you a parent?

So, this was my Thursday night this week.  I drive my 78-year old parents to see their grandson and my nephew perform in his fourth grade musical. 

[A brief aside, I live in a Midwestern college town (population fluctuates around 150K) that for some has become too diverse and thus too dangerous to live and as such three, yes three, white flight towns have sprung up over the last two decades, south, west and east of my micro-urban metropolis – all three of the towns have been in existence for more than two decades but the populations have exploded in the last 20-30 years.  My brother and his family moved to one of these towns a few years ago.]

When we arrive for the musical, the gymnasium is packed, there are enough seats for my parents and my brother’s family, but because of my height (and long legs and gut) the only seat available was a distance from my family and would have left me quite uncomfortable, so I chose to stand off to the side next to the bleachers.   Shortly after I arrived in my spot for the performance, a man appeared out of the right corner of my eye.  He introduced himself and I replied in kind and we shook hands.  We shared one or two bits of small talk, his small talk included his acknowledgment that he was a retired member of an area police department and also pointed out that one of his former colleagues and a current police officer was standing five feet in front of me / us.

This brief banter was high-jumped when I was asked the following: “So, do you just like watching little kids sing or are you a parent?”  [I believe the following is justly warranted: what the fuck!?!]  As the Brits say, I was gobsmacked.  My emotions immediately rose to 212 degrees Fahrenheit and the best I could muster in response was: “I am the uncle of the musical’s narrator.”  The man seemed pacified by this and I was now safe and allowed to watch the performance.

But how could I watch the performance as one of the most bizarre fucking things that has ever happened in my life just occurred.  I would say that I gave three-fourths of my attention to the musical, which was quite good for its continuity, simple but in-time musicianship, several wonderful singing voices, great enthusiasm, and the personal highlight: my nephew’s animated and excited narration / acting. 

The other fourth of my attention was given over to the emotional response and rising blood pressure I was feeling and my unsuccessful attempts to cut through this emotion and think rationally about what just happened.  Images and ideas that flashed in front of me: tell this asshole to go fuck himself, ask this tiny motherfucker to step outside, tell him he needs to stop watching Dateline’s “To Catch a Predator,” mock his weak-ass mustache covering the hair-lip, or simply ask: where do you get off?  But none of these happened except in my imagination.

I did not share this episode with my brother or his family after the performance, as I did not want to dampen my nephew’s night and his great job overcoming performance anxiety as already noted – a great acting job for a ten-year old!  But I did share this bizarre occurrence with my parents as I drove them home.  My mom said: “that guy needs to go back to school” (I am not sure what that means, I think she meant to say he was an ignorant fool?).  My dad said: “Well, at least there is someone looking out for the kids?”  Maybe the implication of my dad’s statement is that the question does not apply to you and needs no explanation?  Now I want to give him the benefit of the doubt because I am not sure he got what just happened to me, but fuck that, I was rudely harassed by a man that went out of his way to point out that he was a retired police officer and that a current police officer was standing in front of me.  This was clearly his attempt to establish his authority of the situation and use that authority to intimidate me. 

I debated starting off this post with the obvious condemnation of crimes against children and the lifelong destruction that accompanies these crimes.  I thought of going into detail about how there was nothing in my clothing, appearance or behavior that would warrant such a question / accusation.  I thought of going off on a rant about false accusations and the harm it causes for the accused.  But again, fuck that, all data shows us that the more families, including extended families, are involved in children’s education and activities as positive support, the better their development both intellectually and socially for those children.  This was my intent last night – to drive my nephew’s grandparents to watch and celebrate and support an important event in his life.  And for that good deed, the event has been marred by some ignorant fool.