Monday, September 15, 2014

More on Adrian


I feel compelled to add to what I posted yesterday about Adrian Peterson’s “discipline” techniques.  Somewhere in that post – and it should be just below – I said I thought there was some chance that Peterson was one of those people who might do better, once they knew better.  At the time I hadn’t seen the pictures or heard the accounts of the damage inflicted, or heard his son’s utterances about having leaves stuffed in his mouth and about being afraid to tell what happened for fear of it happening again.  I had also not heard Adrian Peterson say “I am not a child abuser.  I feel bad.”

First off, Adrian, lots of child abusers feel bad.  Child abuse isn’t about how you felt.  It’s about what you did.  What you might have said was, “I am a child abuser.  I feel bad and I will do whatever I have to do to become NOT a child abuser, including making a promise to the God I point to before every game that I will never lay a hand, or a weapon, on a child again.  Ever.” 

Again, I don’t care what the National Football League or the Minnesota Vikings do with Adrian Peterson.  I’m sure that down the line they have enough money to pay enough P.R. people to make this look very different than it was.  For my money, I’ll never take Adrian on my fantasy football team and I’ll never watch another Minnesota Viking game in which he participates.  Believe me, that means dick to the Vikings or to Adrian Peterson but as Gandhi said, “There is so very little we can do and it is so important that we do it.”

Adrian Peterson didn’t “discipline” his child.  Adrian Peterson tortured his child, and ESPN and the rest of the mainstream media need to call it by its name.  If these exact measures were taken on a kidnapped American or an American prisoner of war, it would be decried as torture.  If our government were to take same measures against an “enemy combatant,” they’d go off-shore to do it. 

The dictionary definition of “spank” is “to slap or smack with the open hand, especially on the buttocks.”  You don’t spank a person with a stick.

Charles Barkley said on a pre-game show yesterday, that’s how black folks in the south “discipline” and by these standards every black parent in the south would be in prison.  I’m a big fan of Barkley and I’ll defer to him any time on the actions of black folks, even though I know southern black people who are absolutely appalled at Adrian Peterson’s behavior.  Best I let THEM take Charles on.  But this isn’t a racial thing.  Barkley needs to defer to me on the actions of white folks.  I grew up in rural, lily-white Idaho and this shit was all over the place.  I ran child abuse and anger management groups for twenty years in Eastern Washington and those groups were ninety five percent white and we had waiting lists.  Adrian Peterson may have learned his techniques from a mean black dad, but I can match mean white dads, dad for dad, with anyone who wants to take the challenge.

In his first public statement, Peterson said, among other things, “I’m not a perfect parent.”  Who in the WORLD thinks we’re talking about perfection here?  How about we take that word out of the conversation.

Adrian Peterson says he’s a Christian.  I wonder, if in his WILDEST imagination he can picture Jesus bruising an cutting a four year old child with a stick. 

In case Adrian might consider advice from another black football player who came up hard – a Hall-of-Famer – I give him Cris Carter.

Sunday, September 14, 2014

Whacking On Your Children

Whacking On Your Children
Man, the National Football League can’t catch a break.  First Ray Rice punches out his fiancé, followed by two more players with domestic violence cases pending and another benched until his case is adjudicated.   And now Adrian Peterson, an even bigger stud running back than Rice, gets hauled in on child abuse charges for “spanking” his kid with a switch. Geez, you’d think these guys run around getting hit in the head all day.

Running our debate about violence toward other human beings through the National Football League is a little like commissioning Fox So-Called News to lead a national debate on fact-finding, and anyway, it’s a mistake to enact laws or base our judgments on high profile cases.  Keeping Adrian Peterson and Ray Rice et al off the football field will do little to stem the problem of family violence in this culture.  In fact, other than the matter of public visibility, it’s no different than demanding an Idaho lumberjack not go back into the woods or a West Virginia coal minor not go back underground if they’re involved in a domestic violence situation.

But the Peterson situation has ignited an old debate about whether or not it’s okay to hit small children, and by small children, I mean anyone smaller than the person doing the hitting.  Texas, where Peterson is from, and many other states have laws that draw a very thin line between physical punishment and abuse; so thin that for some it’s invisible.  BUT IT’S CRAZY THAT WE’RE EVEN HAVING THIS DEBATE.  Discipline and hitting are not the same thing.  Peterson’s childhood coach said Peterson has told him stories of his father being a “firm disciplinarian.”  His lawyer says he was parenting the way he was parented.  One great failing of this culture is how cavalier we are about misnaming things.  What his coach should have said is that Peterson’s dad hit him. 

Discipline is not hitting, and fear is not respect and until we understand that as a culture, we’re not going to get it about disciplining our children.  We hit them not for their own good, but because we’re mad and frustrated and don’t know what to do, so we revert to what is familiar.  What we DON’T seem to know at that juncture, is anything about child development.  You can be a firm disciplinarian without laying a hand on a kid, and in so-doing give yourself a better chance of an open relationship with them as they grow, one where you can have actual meaningful conversations, during which they learn through interaction with you why you want them to behave as you do.  There are things you can take away and let them earn back; toys, privileges; later on, drivers’ licenses.  They learn empowerment.  I can fix what I broke.  If they act the way you want them to act they can regain what they lost behaving as they did in the first place.  It lets you be proud of them, and them to feel that pride.  It establishes the value of your approval. 

And it lets them learn in a safe environment.

When you hit a small child you’re telling that child that the person who is supposed to protect them from harm, will, in fact, inflict that harm.  Because that is not your intention, does not stop it from being so, IN THE EYES OF THE CHILD. 

In my experience the Adrian Peterson’s of the world have a  much better chance of making changes.  As flimsy as his attorney’s declarations sound, it appears he really MAY BE a product of his environment and there are a significant number of people who, when they know better, do better. 

There are many credible studies showing that punishment, particularly physical punishment, has the least efficacy as a parenting tool.  It stops the behavior quickly but has almost no lasting power and a lot of downside in terms of relationship.  There are no studies, unless done by belt companies or the makers of wooden spoons, that depict physical punishment in a more positive light than the use of strong boundaries through relationship.  The statement, “My old man beat MY ass and I guess I turned out okay,” is the one I’ve heard uttered most often in anger management and child abuse groups.  Go figure.

Tuesday, September 9, 2014

Piling On

Piling On

Why should I be the only guy in the country without an opinion on Ray Rice KO-ing his fiancé in the elevator of an Atlantic City casino?  I shouldn’t.

I’m happy to see the outrage at Ray’s treatment of his wife-to-be but it’s a little like a whole bunch of people waking up and saying, “Did you hear we have a problem in this country with cancer? Really pisses me off.”

Look, I don’t care if Ray Rice ever plays another down of football - he killed me last year in my Fantasy Football league anyway.  And I’m okay with his becoming the latest iconic representation for entitled bad guys hurting weaker folk; anytime an epidemic that has existed under our noses for hundreds of years is exposed, I’m for it.  But how Ray Rice is punished means dick, if you’ll excuse the expression.  It means dick if you won’t excuse the expression.  In fact, focusing on it may hurt more than it helps.

Serious righteousness abounds right now.  Sports pundits and athletes alike are decrying Rice’s actions from the hill tops.  Keith Olbermann called for the resignation or ouster of everyone from the Commissioner of the National Football League down to the guy who washes towels for the Baltimore Ravens – turn them all into Joe Paterno.  Keith and I are on the same page ninety-nine percent of the time, and his point is solid – a whole bunch of people knew more than they admitted, earlier than they admitted, so there is plenty of accountability to go around.

But maybe some of that accountability lands on US.  Citizens.  Voters.  See, we get loud and righteous and now we’ve made our stand and we can sit back and wait for the next big thing.  And women and children keep getting hurt or killed and a whole bunch of abusers are glad they weren’t the ones to get caught, and most of them tell themselves they aren’t going to act that way any more. They say what Ray Rice said: That’s not who I am as a man. 

Only it is.

And because they’re not famous and because CNN doesn’t care if they get caught on camera in an elevator, and because they have become experts at finding women who, like Ray Rice’s new wife, will keep coming back, and because this Ray Rice thing has a shelf life of about ten days, in the long run nothing changes.

But we all feel better because Ray Rice won’t get to play football anymore.  We like punishment.

Domestic violence isn’t bad only because women and children are its targets.  It’s bad because of the insidious way it keeps itself alive, by showing large numbers in each new generation that physical might trumps all, that a woman is defined largely by her relationship to her man, that love and intensity are the same thing (love hurts), that what goes on inside a relationship is nobody’s business until it’s so ugly the rest of us can’t turn away, which I guess means it gets caught on camera.

On a scale of one-to-ten Ray’s knock-out punch wasn’t a ten.  It was a good shot, probably at least a seven, but in my twenty-plus years working with abuse families, I’ve seen worse.  We don’t need to pay attention to the sensational incident.  We need to pay attention to the epidemic.

And make no mistake, this domestic violence thing is a dance - and don’t get cranked up to accuse me of blaming the victim.  If you’re a woman and you get hit by the man you think you love – or any man for that matter - you’re a victim and it’s his fault.  It’s the fault of the person leading the assault, and in treatment I NEVER let a man pull the She-Knows-What-Pisses-Me-Off card; but I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard, “He wouldn’t get that mad if he didn’t love me.”  So what you do NEXT, my dear victim, is 100 percent up to you.  I know a whole bunch of smart, powerful, self-possessed women who are disgusted beyond repair by Ray Rice’s wife.  She wasn’t his wife, he knocked her out and now she is his wife. 

There may be extenuating circumstances; there usually are.  I don’t know what will happen with the Rices and I don’t care.  What I do know is that most of the people locked in that dance will dance until they get too old to keep up that kind of intensity, or until somebody gets seriously injured or killed.  Some, after an average of seven returns, will break up.  What else I know is that children brought up in the fog of violence learn from what they see, and behave in accordance with what they learn, and that’s why this epidemic seems genetic. 

So your righteousness is lost on me if it’s focused on Ray Rice.  Be righteous with the no-new-taxes crowd who think it isn’t the business of our local, state and federal governments to fund intensive programs that offer real help to families and couples in trouble.  Your righteousness means dick if it doesn’t spill over into public policy.

Monday, September 8, 2014


                                                             I HAVE A DREAM...

Or at least I had a dream. In that dream, each person's afterlife reflects what the deceased believed when he or she was alive. For a certain kind of Christian, that means peace, kindness, streets paved with gold, eternal salvation and St. Peter at the gate, calling thumbs up or thumbs down. Now we all know St. Pete wasn’t the brightest bulb in the 12-pac, but he was loyal and decent and certainly a true believer; which made him a good pick to stand at the gate.

In my dream, Peter stands next to a long golden lever, which, when pulled, opens a trap door leading straight to Hell. Those wishing to pass through the Gates to Heaven, must stand on that trap door while they make their case. Should the good saint pull that lever there is a loud KER-CHUCK! followed by the sudden disappearance of said heavenly applicant.

This is where the dream gets good.

Peter: You look forlorn.
Applicant: My daughter… has such a hard life…
Peter: (places a hand on applicant’s shoulder) Tell me.
Applicant: (Deep breath) When she was nine, I took her to a shooting range…
Peter: (Gripping the lever) Yes…
Applicant: …to learn to shoot an Uzi…

2nd Applicant: I ran a shooting range.
Peter: (Moving hand toward the golden lever) Uh-huh…
2nd Applicant: During our 2 for 1 children’s special…

3rd Applicant: Good morning St. Peter, my name is Ted Nugent…

4th Applicant: Good morning St. Peter. My name is Joe. I was a plumber, only not really…

Beelzebub: Welcome gentlemen. (Unrolls a fiery scroll) I see you’re all scheduled for eternity in the Wayne LaPierre Suites. (Smiles) Only a certain unique kind of human has an entire section of Hell named for them. At any rate, we’ve packed you each a lunch in your own special Charleton Heston asbestos lunch bucket…you have a long trip…it’s MUCH further down. Hurry now, or you’ll miss the first of the infinite screenings of “The Dark Knight Rises.” (Smiles, raises his eyebrows) Spoiler alert: you never see the final credits.