My Outrage Swith is OFF
Kid 1 and I were just at the local Staples--the one in the mall on the edge of the somewhat shabby town right next to our upscale Sound town--buying new pens. Someone stole her beloved pencil case so we were replacing whatever we could afford.
When we pulled into the parking lot, we noticed a small beat-up compact beside us. The engine was running and the car was sloppily parked--like when you were a teenager and screeched into a space to run into the store down the street for gum. That was odd enough but then we looked in the back seat to see a sleeping baby and a sleeping girl probably about 10.
I thought about whether to call the police but I was torn. The front seat of the car was taken up with trash bags full of clothing and I wondered if they were living in the car. I decided to take Kid 1 into the store and to deal with it if necessary when we came out. Fifteen minutes later we were finished with our shopping.
The car was still there and now it had drawn attention from others. The Staples manager had searched the store for a parent, as had the manager of the appliance store next door. Nothing. I woke up the little girl to see if she knew her mother's whereabouts. She said she was fine, that her mother would be back. We stood around the car--an older woman (that means even older than I), an older Hispanic man and the Staples manager. A young Hispanic woman came out the Staples with a 3 year-old in tow. The Staples manager motioned to this woman, thinking that she must be the missing mother. She wasn't. Someone said the police had been called. They didn't come. In our town a half-mile down Route 1, the police would have been there within minutes.
I decided we would leave. I didn't want Kid 1 to see whatever happened when the police finally arrived. I envisioned a number of upsetting scenes. I wondered what would possess a parent to leave a baby in a running car. It seemed like a "dad" thing to do. So why didn't I call the police immediately? Because I felt sympathy and not outrage. My outrage switch is OFF, I think. I thought about how I feel when I'm not quite sure I can make the mortgage payment or scrounge the money to buy milk or bread. I thought "perhaps we are not so different." I pictured a hurrying father rushing into the basement flea-market at this mall trying to find the guy who owes him money, trying to get money for milk or for the rent. Like I said, I guess my outrage switch is OFF for now. I hope the kids are all right.
When we pulled into the parking lot, we noticed a small beat-up compact beside us. The engine was running and the car was sloppily parked--like when you were a teenager and screeched into a space to run into the store down the street for gum. That was odd enough but then we looked in the back seat to see a sleeping baby and a sleeping girl probably about 10.
I thought about whether to call the police but I was torn. The front seat of the car was taken up with trash bags full of clothing and I wondered if they were living in the car. I decided to take Kid 1 into the store and to deal with it if necessary when we came out. Fifteen minutes later we were finished with our shopping.
The car was still there and now it had drawn attention from others. The Staples manager had searched the store for a parent, as had the manager of the appliance store next door. Nothing. I woke up the little girl to see if she knew her mother's whereabouts. She said she was fine, that her mother would be back. We stood around the car--an older woman (that means even older than I), an older Hispanic man and the Staples manager. A young Hispanic woman came out the Staples with a 3 year-old in tow. The Staples manager motioned to this woman, thinking that she must be the missing mother. She wasn't. Someone said the police had been called. They didn't come. In our town a half-mile down Route 1, the police would have been there within minutes.
I decided we would leave. I didn't want Kid 1 to see whatever happened when the police finally arrived. I envisioned a number of upsetting scenes. I wondered what would possess a parent to leave a baby in a running car. It seemed like a "dad" thing to do. So why didn't I call the police immediately? Because I felt sympathy and not outrage. My outrage switch is OFF, I think. I thought about how I feel when I'm not quite sure I can make the mortgage payment or scrounge the money to buy milk or bread. I thought "perhaps we are not so different." I pictured a hurrying father rushing into the basement flea-market at this mall trying to find the guy who owes him money, trying to get money for milk or for the rent. Like I said, I guess my outrage switch is OFF for now. I hope the kids are all right.
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