There are other, less comical and more serious observations that I've made, too.
Like the Dad who absolutely scared the shit out of me the other day. I've never honestly been that fearful of someone before. He was clean shaven. Wore nice clothes. Had no tattoos, no piercings. He wasn't even physically that intimidating (although not out of shape, either). But when I saw him playing with his children and step children.... I saw the makings of an abusive home. Perhaps I am being judgmental. But I just got this feeling... I've never felt that way before, about anyone.
The only other family who was in the pool was a dad, who had enough tattoos to be an art gallery, at least 3 piercings, wore his ratty jeans and old basketball shoes to the pool, cursed like a sailor, and was big enough to be a linebacker. But he had a gentle demeanor to him. I saw him playing with his kids in an entirely different manner, under an entirely different pretext. It was clear to me that while on the outside he may have been a rough, "bad boy", he genuinely loved his kids. He played what they wanted to play, watched them carefully, disciplined them gently, and was there to simply be a part of his kids lives, to enjoy their company.
The first dad, however, disciplined his children by holding them underwater for just a moment less than too long. Ignoring his 1-year-old who could barely walk, who I pulled out of the water at least 3 times when he found that he couldn't walk as the water got deeper. His wife (girlfriend? I'm pretty sure it was his wife, though I didn't look for rings) stayed quite clear of him, watching not with admiration or love or pride or infatuation or even lust, but with fear and anger and a general sense that she was terrified of him in the most savage and rawly humane way possible. And the icy glare he gave me when I gently reminded his kids that they were actually not allowed to stand on the peninsula we've got, and asked them to get off.... Made me shiver. Literally. Nobody's ever had that power over me. I had a minuscule glimpse into what it must be like to live under a terror regime - either by the government, an abusive relationship, or anything else that genuinely instills that kind of intense fear in people.
******
Or, the second terrifyingly real experience I had involves the dad, who, at first glance was just one of those slightly weird men with a little extra hair on his back with a little bit of a beer belly, and balding, greying hair.... who for some reason felt the need to wear one of those speedoes that should be outlawed unless your name is Michael Phelps or Jason Lezak.... At first I just thought he was a little odd. But then things got interesting. (Background: We've got a "shore" area - part of the pool that starts at 0" depth and gradually goes to 2' deep. In the shallowest part, we've got a set of 6 fountains that spew water for kids to play in.) The dad spent the better portion of fifteen minutes standing directly over the tallest fountain discreetly fondling himself. And by discreetly I mean the way one would go about said activity when they consciously know they are in public, and really shouldn't be touching themselves, but they do it anyways.... Not really particularly discreet, as far as subtlety goes.
As if that weren't disturbing enough, the young boy he was with (his son, who couldn't have ben older than 5 or 6), walked up to his dad and, through the Speedo, sucked his dad's dick. No, I am not hallucinating, nor exaggerating. The father, as if in a moment of delusion and forgetfulness about where he was and who might be watching, patted the young child on the head and said "good boy".
What does it mean for me to watch that? And then proceed to take no action? I am not a mandatory reporter, and so am under no additional legal obligation to reveal anything I may know about potentially dangerous situations. And even if I were, I would have no means of passively or secretly identifying the man.
I'm not under any delusion that sexual abuse does not exist, even here in perfect trophy-wife/soccer-mom white suburbia; I've known people who have been abused, both sexually and otherwise. But always, always it was a private act. While I'm sure the young boy did not know or understand that such actions are not acceptable, in public or otherwise, the father (one would think) would have either the sensitivity or the decency to stop the young boy before things went so far in public.
The image has haunted me since it happened - knowing that I did nothing. Knowing that I let the situation go, ignored it, simply pretended that it had not happened.... But it did! It happened, right in front of me!!! And I neglected it.... which, in a sense makes me just as guilty as the father.... But what should I have done? The thought has been tormenting me, haunting my heart - what WOULD have been the best course of action?! How does one react appropriately in that situation???? I cannot, no matter how many times I replay the situation in my head, come up with a good solution, an answer or action that would be justifiable, that would be good for the boy, that would be appropriate.... It is a weight that has borne down upon my soul since it happened a few weeks ago, and I cannot shake the feeling, that regardless of what the best course of action would have been, that nothing was NOT the right one. I suppose this is something I will have to live with, because there is no longer any (conceivable) way to remedy the situation. But I doubt I will ever let anything like that slip past me again.... I cannot justify any reason why I should not have taken action - that boy is no less valuable than me or anyone else... What can one even begin to say to such a situation - I was rendered speechless.
I don't know what to do - my soul aches for the young boy I let go. That I looked away from. And my soul will always ache for him... My prayers will always include him - that he might forgive me. And that I might be granted the strength to FIND the right course of action in the future.
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