I'm taking a walk down memory lane because of a post on a friend's blog about an incident where she left her kids in the car for a minute outside of school, and how that went downhill after someone called 911.
Reminds me of the time when I was out and about in my Mom days in California. A mild Saturday morning in May, 1992. It was warm, maybe 65, and so some of the kids were running through the sprinklers to get a jump start on summer. Late morning, and Chris (my future son-in-law; but at 12, who knew?) needed a ride home, so I obliged. On the way back home, I remembered I was out of garbage bags, so made a quick pit stop at Von's grocery store. Torrey (8) came in with me, but Jordan (a month shy of 12) and Wayne (going on 6) were freezing because their clothes were still wet, and so they opted to stay in the car.
Torrey and I grabbed a box of cereal and the garbage bags and were in line to checkout within a few minutes. Coincidentally, Chris' Mom got in line right behind us and I was chatting with her when I heard over the loudspeaker, "Whoever is the owner of a silver Toyota van, come to the front of the store immediately!"
Who, me? I
was at the front of the store, so I waved at the manager, and he beckoned me over. "You better get out there," he sternly advised, "there are three squad cars and a fire engine around your car!"
Holy potato chips! I couldn't fathom what could possibly take place in such a brief interlude, but I raced out into the parking lot. Or else maybe I was momentarily paralyzed with fear and just my mind raced out there (I have always been fairly "out there" to begin with.) Visions of a runaway car crashing into my boys, a serial killer shooting out the windows to get to them, a sudden explosion resulting in sky high flames--- previews that all played in vivid technicolor on the large screen of my terrified mind. But this was no theater. I ran!
In the parking lot, there was no fire, no collided cars, no handcuffed suspects. There was no fire engine, and only one police car. No coroner, a good sign, I figured. Sigh! Flooded with relief, I ran to the car to hug the boys. But I was detained by the decidedly unfriendly police officer. Finding everything ok, evidently the other responders had already hightailed it out of there, and I was left with Officer AMIEVERGOINGTOMAKEYOUPAYFORMISSINGMYDONUT. Oh, I got it--- I was on TV, I was being pranked! Shades of Candid Camera. Had I thought to put on lipstick that morning? Wouldn't you know?
"What did you think you were doing? What did you think would happen? How could you legally be a mother and leave your children in such danger? We have career criminals on death row with more conscience than you. Yada, yada."
The harangue went on and on. At first, I grinned. He was obviously joking. I had not gone to the moon and left a helpless 6 month old baby in 120 degree heat. I know that happens, and something has to be done. But it wasn't as if I could have locked a 12 year old in the car, for heaven's sake. Everything was just FINE. Wasn't that obvious? Where was that TV camera crew hiding anyway?
Maybe my intrepid smile just antagonized THE MAN, because as the minutes ticked away and the verbal attack mounted in intensity, I started to get alarmed that something hadn't actually happened that he could sink his teeth into. Macho man needed a dose of reality, something to stop the swaggering soliloquy, so I thought I would show I was taking his words to heart. In the middle of his berating me, I had an "Aha" moment, and said, "Officer, I just had no idea things could be so dangerous. It's
so lucky for me that I ran into you like this. Now I'm freaking out about my 8 year old daughter--- I left her inside ALONE when I ran out here."
Hey, she could have been kidnapped! Or eaten peanuts and been allergic, even now the ambulance could be on the way! (I neglected to throw in she was with a trusted friend, TMI, for now). The clock was ticking. "Please, may I go back in the store to get my other baby?"
I half expected a formal escort back into the store at that point, as embarrassing as that might have been (I could always start shopping elsewhere, it was a big enough city.) I had little pride left anyway, as people were sitting on the trunks and hoods of their cars, watching the drama, letting their ice cream melt. Permission denied! This self appointed guardian of my boys was more than happy to let my young daughter wander the aisles unprotected, as far as he knew anyway, while he threatened her mother.
Yes, threatened! The one thing I never imagined that morning was that I could lose my children. Perhaps he was playing to the ever expanding audience, but my heart sank when he informed me he could turn me in to Social Services and they would come to my home and immediately take any or all of my children from me, whatever they so desired. That the State has such power had never hit me with such force before, and I was shattered to my core.
After that I didn't hear anything. I don't know when he finished his relentless lecture and filled out his report. I don't know if he got much applause. I don't know when Lea brought Torrey out to me. I don't know how on earth I managed to drive home.
I do remember a lady coming up to me before I left and touching my shoulder and telling me she had called 911, as a favor to keep me from "that". How I wish I had returned the favor and slammed her to the ground and stomped her face in. Being as Ghandi is my hero, that option was a bit more in line with my beliefs than the evil that was really lurking in my heart just then. I just glared at her in disbelief. Save me from what? If you were so concerned about my children, why not knock on the window and check on them yourself first? A little common sense maybe. But drama works for some.
I do know I had a meltdown after I got home. Shaking and crying, I was truly terrified of the possibilities before me. That someone could just show up on my doorstep at any moment from now on and rip my kids away! My husband didn't get it. He was fully irritated that I was so upset. Are you kidding? He thought it more of a laughing matter. But I needed some reassurance, some support.
So I decided I needed to calm down by calling the Police Department and arming myself with some facts. Maybe this was a renegade officer and his threats were as bogus as I hoped he was. Then I inquired as to the applicable laws. I was told by the lady that there was no law stating a legal age for when your children could be alone. Therefore, until they were 18, they needed to be under constant parental supervision!!! What? Say that again.
"Look," I explained, "even though I am virtually the only parent in the entire state of California to ever get caught letting a child under the age of 18 out of my sight, I get confused by the TV spots referring latchkey kids to well supported programs where they can get tutored after school because they are HOME ALONE and need adult help. Hello! And what about the criminally insane, but common, practice of having 12 year old kids babysit younger kids?
She just kept insisting that no law made it legal for anyone under 18 to be alone without an adult. Had I entered the Twilight Zone? Apparently we urgently needed thousands more cops to apprehend all guilty parents up and down the coast before it was too late! And why stop there? All America should be on alert. Tell me, do you have to be brainwashed for months on end to work for the PD? Or will a simple lobotomy suffice? Not sure if she deliberately lied to me or was misinformed or if laws have changed since that time, but here's an idea of what is legal where. It's a bit nebulous most places.
https://www.childwelfare.gov/pubPDFs/homealone.pdf.
Well, this was California, after all. Maybe surreal here needs to be spelled SURREAL. Seeing as I was getting no help anywhere; and feeling only abject pain and dread, I went down the street to a neighbor's house for help. I knew he had long ago been a member of the force, and I wanted to get his 2 cents. Thank goodness he was who he was, cool and compassionate, and former "Officer Ralph" was willing to spend some time grounding me in the real world again, telling me what an aberration the whole scenario had been. I chose to believe him (common sense trumps common idiocy, or it should) and felt somewhat reassured. Nevertheless, take a peek at the world around you, the wars, the abuse, the inhumanity. How often is authority wisely, benevolently used anyway?
The story has a happy ending, except for those of my children who wished they'd been removed from the home and gone on to better things, like more steak, less mac and cheese. Still, for those of you in the midst of raising kids right now, you might want to keep them chained to you, just till they're 18, of course, and avoid grocery stores just to be safe (you could have them delivered, you know... or stop eating). Or move to a free country.
has also been the NFL's Most Valuable Player twice and the Super Bowl's Most Valuable Player. He established the First Things First Foundation in the spring of 2001 with wife Brenda to promote Christian values and bless the lives of those less fortunate with projects such as trips to Disney World for ill children, building recreation centers in children's hospitals, helping single moms achieve the dream of homeownership and teaching Special Olympians the football basics. All projects are centered on Kurt and Brenda's life theme: faith and family come first. The official website is: http://www.kurtwarner.org 
