My parents had ruined my life. I sat in the darkened
living room moping as only an eleven-year-old can mope. I was oblivious to
reason. There was no way I could show my face outside the house. Even if no one
said anything to my face everyone would think I was a baby.
Just what had my mother and father done that was so
terrible? They’d informed me, shortly before it was time to leave to my
cousin’s movie and sleep-over party, that I couldn’t participate in the movie
part. Their reason was so humiliating. They’d made a rule, a stupid rule as far
as I was concerned, that I couldn’t go to any of the downtown movie theaters after
dark without an adult chaperone. The movie was downtown, it was after
nightfall, and neither my aunt nor my uncle would be accompanying us.
They were resolute in their decision. I was adamant
that I’d never recover from the embarrassment they were causing me. Finally,
finally I allowed myself to be coaxed into attending the slumber party once the
movie was over. It was no mean feat to enter my cousin’s house and listen to
everyone talk about the movie. Just as I’d feared one of the girls made a
disparaging comment. Everyone else ignored the subject, though, and after a little
time I was able to move on.
My parents, like so many others, walked a tightrope
between being too over-protective and letting me face real or perceived
dangers. Looking back I marvel at some of the activities they did allow me to
do.
How could they have let me go door-to-door all by
myself selling Camp Fire candies? Was it just because my canvassing was done
during the daylight hours they felt it was safe? I was traumatized once when I knocked
on the door of a house around the corner. Too late I remembered that other kids
in the neighborhood had warned me to stay away from that particular house. The
man inside was weird. Exactly what weird meant I wasn’t sure. He’d opened
the door so quickly that I’d had no time to run away after realizing my
mistake. Thankfully, he didn’t grab me and pull me inside. Still he’d kept a
conversation going for longer than I would have liked, especially since he
didn’t buy any candy. With a hammering heart I stuttered that I had to go home
and I did. I never told my parents about the “weird” man. Would they have let
me continue to sell candy if I had?
Halloween night always had its share of rules. Once I
was old enough to go trick or treating with just friends I had boundaries and
curfews. Once home I had to toss any treats that weren’t sealed. In other
words, no candy apples or popcorn balls for me.
It’s been more than three decades since I’ve lived in
America. Do girls still sell Camp Fire candies or Girl Scout cookies
door-to-door? Are children allowed to trick-or-treat at strangers’ doors? Like
others I wonder if the dangers the children of today face are more common than
what I faced as a child or if we just know about them more than we did back then.
Were my parents paranoid or ahead of their times with their rules? Did they
understand those rules weren’t foolproof?
Raising children has never been easy. A quick look at
the first chapters of the Torah confirm this. In my opinion, however, the times
we’re living in are especially difficult ones to be a parent. It’s my prayer
that all the children will navigate the many pitfalls of the world and reach
adulthood healthy and well in both body and soul. It’s my responsibility as a
citizen of the world to look out for all of them.
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| courtesy of etsy.com |
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