I was so happy to read about the mother who tracked down the theater patron whose experience had been ruined by her daughters. The theater patron wasn't afraid to confront the girls about their abysmal behavior. It made me think that there are still villagers who haven't abandoned the authority that villagers used to relish. These days, one takes one's feelings, and maybe, one's life in one's hands if one dares to say something when one sees something amiss.
I recalled a time when I did see something, but kept quiet. Although I stood long enough, thinking my presence would send the young lady in the direction of the bus stop, it didn't. I noticed the tell tale uniform, She should have been on her way to school, instead she was consenting to being groped in public. Was it young love? I guess. She didn't seem to be in any danger---except maybe of missing pertinent information in an English or Science class. There she was up against the iron fence just laughing away. Passersby and me were seeing, but not saying. I went to the mailbox, thinking, once again, my presence would be a deterrent. Nope.
It had been chillier than I thought when I headed out for my walk that morning. I decided I would go inside, grab a heavier coat and go back out and confront the young lady. As I walked, I thought of what to say. Would I pretend to know her, or her mom? How would I get her attention? Ask for directions? What would I do--what could I do to avoid getting cursed out? What route would I take? I could say: "Hey! Aren't you supposed to be on your way to school?" "Don't you think you're going to be late?" "Young lady, if he really cared about you, he wouldn't be groping you in broad daylight like that." "What if your parents just happened to drive by?" "Have more respect for yourself, surely he has none." "Have a mind of your own. You know this is not where you're supposed to be."
By the time I got inside, grabbed my coat, and looked out the window to see if they were still there, they were gone. My heart sank. I looked toward the bus stop. They weren't there. Had they walked up the hill? Had they decided to go to school? Had they gotten into a car? I worried about her. Maybe a passerby said something. Maybe she was on her way to the guy's house and not even thinking about school. Would I even recognize them if I saw them again? Should I have phoned the school and suggested they detain all late students, and contact the parents of the absent ones? Why had I hesitated? Maybe the angst I felt was more about me than the young lady. I suppose we all have times, upon which we can reflect; decisions we've made and wished someone--anyone--would have said something.
I recalled a time when I did see something, but kept quiet. Although I stood long enough, thinking my presence would send the young lady in the direction of the bus stop, it didn't. I noticed the tell tale uniform, She should have been on her way to school, instead she was consenting to being groped in public. Was it young love? I guess. She didn't seem to be in any danger---except maybe of missing pertinent information in an English or Science class. There she was up against the iron fence just laughing away. Passersby and me were seeing, but not saying. I went to the mailbox, thinking, once again, my presence would be a deterrent. Nope.
It had been chillier than I thought when I headed out for my walk that morning. I decided I would go inside, grab a heavier coat and go back out and confront the young lady. As I walked, I thought of what to say. Would I pretend to know her, or her mom? How would I get her attention? Ask for directions? What would I do--what could I do to avoid getting cursed out? What route would I take? I could say: "Hey! Aren't you supposed to be on your way to school?" "Don't you think you're going to be late?" "Young lady, if he really cared about you, he wouldn't be groping you in broad daylight like that." "What if your parents just happened to drive by?" "Have more respect for yourself, surely he has none." "Have a mind of your own. You know this is not where you're supposed to be."
By the time I got inside, grabbed my coat, and looked out the window to see if they were still there, they were gone. My heart sank. I looked toward the bus stop. They weren't there. Had they walked up the hill? Had they decided to go to school? Had they gotten into a car? I worried about her. Maybe a passerby said something. Maybe she was on her way to the guy's house and not even thinking about school. Would I even recognize them if I saw them again? Should I have phoned the school and suggested they detain all late students, and contact the parents of the absent ones? Why had I hesitated? Maybe the angst I felt was more about me than the young lady. I suppose we all have times, upon which we can reflect; decisions we've made and wished someone--anyone--would have said something.
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment