In the Mind of Jerry Sandusky

People are saying he’s a monster. I don’t completely agree, although he has done monstrous things that damage people’s lives.

We ask ourselves how he couldn’t know the effect he was having and, if he did, we ask ourselves why he continued doing it. Those are good questions, and we can never know the answers. These questions have been on my mind for several years, and I have a few thoughts that are far from being answers—but they are on my mind a great deal right now.

I want for us to understand how this happens. At what point does something like this begin, and how on earth can we interfere with the process once it starts? I admit a certain amount of compassion for the Jerry Sandusky’s of the world. I can’t imagine that someone lives this live without having experienced a major snafu in his own development. I wonder how much a person can really admit to himself about what he’s doing, and I wonder what that does to someone’s sense of soul and life to be so constantly deluding himself.

I keep thinking about what leads to the first instance of something as horrific as child sexual abuse. I’ve spent time with friends and family members who are all too familiar with child sexual abuse. I’ve known people who have been survivors as well as those who crossed those boundaries and engaged in sexual behavior (or behavior that is potentially sexual) with people they shouldn’t have.

One person I know always referred to himself as a late bloomer, not really aware or interested sexually until late middle school. At that time, he realized he was interested in the guys rather than the girls. Now, for most of us, middle school is a time when we can practice what it means to be romantic and sexual. We might flirt, talk with our friends about our crushes, enjoy daydreaming about that first kiss, and so on. And we are constantly surrounded by it at school. We see others learning the dance of romance, and our relationship skills develop right alongside all the other things we are learning to navigate as future adults.

So imagine someone who realizes that there is a different attraction. If he is surrounded by heterosexual conversation and activity and if it isn’t okay to talk about his real love interests at home or with friends, then perhaps this part of his self becomes stunted and delayed. Maybe it takes him years to come to terms with his sexual orientation. And by the time this happens, his relationship self can only then go back to where he was in middle school, when it all started. And his attraction picks up just where it left off—with middle school aged boys. Or maybe a woman grows up in a very sheltered home. By the time she is out on her own and finally allows herself to begin thinking about having romantic relationships, her attraction is to those who are high school age, just as she was when she first had a romantic interest in anyone.

Imagine someone who had an inappropriate or unhealthy introduction to sexual desire—maybe it involved pain or betrayal or happened at a too-young age. For many of us, when there is pain, we try to heal. And, sadly, sometimes we do this by repeating the behavior until it turns out right. Illogical, but true. But I’ve seen it happen far too many times. One of my long-time-ago friends had this thing for bad boys. She dated guys who’d been in jail, guys who did drugs, guys who somehow were always living life on the edge. Every single time, she got hurt. The logical response would be for her to say, “Oops. Bad choice. I better try something different next time.” Instead, she would think, “Wow. Not again. I’m such a failure because I could make pattern xyz work. In order to prove myself worthy, I need to tackle xyz again until I figure out how to do it right.” And that’s exactly what she did, again and again and again. One effort resulted in a 15-year marriage that ended in divorce. And the last time I talked with her, she called me, drunk on appletinis, to cry about how she was such a failure with guys after the first post-divorce bad boy dumped her. It is hard to break a habit, even a bad one.

From all accounts I’ve read, Jerry Sandusky’s perception was that he was in a relationship with each of the boys he assaulted. It sounds sick to us from the outside to think that a 60-something man would actually think he was in a real relationship with a young teen. But if his mind was stuck in a constant rewind of his own young teen years, then from his perspective, he was just trying to pick up where he left off—and when it didn’t work, he got stuck in the cycle of constant do-overs.

Perhaps in the case of person who has molested multiple children, each time it is an attempt to tap into a purity he has been missing for so long. Each time is an attempt to recreate something that had gone wrong and hope for a better ending this time around.

It’s hard to admit that we’ve done something wrong—and each time, it gets harder and harder. The darker the image, the harder it is to truly see what is staring at us in the mirror. Serial attempts at getting it right, each leading to seeing pain and distrust in the young person’s eyes…how many of us would have the courage to shake ourselves free of this obsession, the obsession to finally get it right? Each time we dig the hole, it gets harder and harder to climb out of. And denial is a powerful thing.

Somehow, somewhere, Jerry Sandusky started something wrong. Did it start with someone doing something wrong to him? Did it begin with a repressed homosexual desire in his own youth? Was he molested at some point?

It certainly is easier to draw black and white lines all over the place. We name someone a monster or predator, because it makes him “other” and allows us to feel disconnected from this person who has caused so much horrific pain. But people are complex creatures, and there’s a lot more grey area. Did he set out with the goal of causing pain to boys? Or did he set out with the goal of trying to connect with boys to have the relationships he craved in his life?

People say he’s a predator. But in some way, aren’t we all? In our quest for relationships and an effort to feel healed and whole, we do many things that can seem predatory. The man who calls a woman to ask for a date. The woman who parks her car next to her co-worker so they can just “happen” to run into each other after work.  The girl who texts a boy she likes.  The human who sees another soul—one that reminds him of his inner self, the one that needs to heal—and tries to help that other soul see a connection. The woman who finds herself alone with a person and yearns for her first kiss and takes it from someone she feels is more than a friend—even though the person has not yet crossed into the age of adulthood.

We need to work harder at understanding how these things happen so we can work on healing and making it stop. Are the courageous Sandusky survivors being provided with counseling, to help be sure they have healthy development? Are there others who try to tell us in some way that they have an attraction that crosses boundaries in an unhealthy way, and do we have systems in place to protect children as well as to protect these individuals from themselves?

I feel great compassion and heartache for those who have survived child sexual abuse. That does not mean that I am not able to also feel compassion for Sandusky and for others who have done these monstrous things to children and teenagers.  Compassion for all starts with trying to understand the perpetrators, from their own point of view. Only when we speak their language can we begin to talk them down off the ledge and prevent them from damaging so many other lives.

How I Imagined a Date with a Dead President

Growing older is full of surprises. I never, ever know where my mind will go, and I'm not always sure what to do once it gets there.

As my parents prepare for a big relocation, my mom is slowly purging their house of things they no longer need or use. Last Sunday, we were all sent to the basement to peruse a table of goodies my mom had for us to hopefully take home. I brought home a 48-page book about America, written in 1943 by a man whose son was being sent overseas as part of World War II. His son had been surprised by how little his fellow soldiers knew about why America was so great. Hmm. Maybe the Greatest Generation was, well, kind of like the rest of us.

Most of the book contains information about the presidents. Reading the cause of death for many of them is interesting. George Washington died of laryngitis, John Adams of old age, Thomas Jefferson of intestinal trouble. A few presidents down the list, we found that John Tyler died of a bilious attack. I don't even know what that is. The book also includes a copy of the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence, a list of facts about all 48 states, and plenty of information on military and service support organizations.

I've always been fascinated to read about history as seen by those in history. We were in the middle of a war, and the write-up of then-president FDR was full of patriotic support and vigor. George Washington was the only president deemed worthy of his very own page in the book.

I am approaching the age of 50. Since my early childhood, I have seen this book and other similar ones, all providing pictures of the presidents. They've always looked like old men to me--men of a different age than me in both chronology and era. Today, for the first time, I found myself looking at them as, well, men. I found myself thinking how distinguished some of them look and wondering what it would be like to sit across from them at a table while talking and drinking coffee. Um, what? A couple of them were quite good looking, and I even began to wonder what they would look like in modern clothes and hair styles and how I'm pretty sure I would have let Ulysses S. Grant take me on a date if neither of us were married.

Seriously, is this what it means to be my age? I look at this fascinating little slice of American history and end up daydreaming about a date with a dead president?

Healing ≠ Forgetting

The recall election was two weeks ago. Scott Walker is still governor, we may or may not have more balance of power in the state government, and higher education is still taking hits in terms of budget, quality, and elected officials thinking they know what learning is and how it is best facilitated and evaluated.

Nonetheless, I feel I have done a lot of healing since the recall. Granted, it's easy for me. Now that I am no longer a state employee, I'm not feeling as personally oppressed as I was for a good chunk of 2011. My paycheck does not give me monthly reminders of Act 10, and I am not surrounded by co-workers who are angry, depressed, and overwhelmed by feelings of powerlessness. So for me, healing is a different beast than it is for so many of my friends.

When we are cut, we bleed. Then we heal. Healing never means we go back to the way it was, though. Sometimes we have visible scars. Even when we don't, healing does not erase the experience of having had the injury and the pain. But healing means that we have moved on to a new version of ourselves.

I am relieved that recall season is over. With the continual emphasis on public unions at the expense of the many other pieces of Act 10 and the processes used to implement it, along with the complete lack of a Democratic platform that said anything other than "get rid of Walker" or "restore bargaining rights," defeat was inevitable. Now that the recall vote is over, I fee like I can get on with my life. I am again starting to pay attention to national politics, I'm able to think more intently about specific issues in the state, and I just feel like the burdens of anxiety and waiting have been lifted.

I'm incredibly frustrated by the fact that people are still name-calling and mocking each other. I'm tired of seeing extreme conservatives referred to as "right-wing nut jobs." They are simply passionate about the views with which we disagree. To many of them, those of us who are equally passionate about our ideas are "damn liberals." Seriously, people, try to find some common ground. We have to live and work with each other, so try to find some way to connect. As I stood in the voting line in Waukesha, knowing that most of the people around me would be voting differently than me, I still tried to chat with my neighbors about how it felt to be standing in a grade school in line again and which shows people wanted to see at Summerfest. I have even stopped flipping off every "I Stand with Scott Walker" bumper sticker I see. (Yes, I really did this. For months. But only at a level lower than my car window so no one but me would actually see it.) Healing a breach takes effort, but it is worth it.

The fact that I am doing well post-recall does NOT, however, mean that I have forgotten. I still remember how I felt when I checked my phone during a break at a workshop to see that Walker had put the national guard on alert because of the bomb he was about to drop on February 11, 2011. I will never forget how every Friday, I felt like one of my rights was being threatened.

I look at many of my friends and former colleagues and people I've gotten to know through social media. I think many of them are more healed than they realize as well. They have gotten more involved in their local communities and in taking up the banner to advocate for very specific issues. They have changed and are trying to make their communities and workplaces better places to be. They are new versions of themselves, healed from the immediate injuries done by Walker and the Fitzgerald brothers but able to move forward. Even though we move on with our individual and collective lives and are healed, we will never forget. We already make a difference, even if it's hard to see right now.

The Irrevocable

When I was in 5^th grade, I took clarinet lessons at school. I have two distinct memories: the taste of a clarinet reed and the words “do over.” Every time I messed up, I could try it again—and again and again until I got it right. And I’ve lost count of how many other things I’ve been able to do over. You can re-take college classes. You can revise writing. You can edit blog posts, even after they’re posted. You can repeat your driving test. You can un-do a thousand stitches of knitting and re-knit the yarn. With these things, once you have the new and improved version, the original effort mostly fades away.

Sometimes, though, do-overs aren’t so easy. There are some things we can never erase, things we cannot revoke from our histories, as much as we wish we could.

I have sadly watched a situation lately that breaks my heart, and it’s all because someone was trying to have a fresh start. A big and public mistake came back to haunt this person. All the old feelings bubbled back up. And in some ways, it felt like no progress had been made. 

The key is to learn from each experience. Reflect on what went wrong, and try to see it from multiple points of view. Make the kinds of changes that can help prevent recurrences. When life hurts, don't waste the lesson. Grieve. Reflect. Learn. Change. Because there are no do-overs in the stuff that really matters.

Getting Back in the Groove

I'm trying to encourage myself here, because I don't have the energy to be angry again. I feel heavy-hearted and soul-weary, and I just need some things to hang onto here.

• A new governor would not be able to change everything back to the way it was--not without good attention to process and building collaboration. I get the feeling that too many people were seeing the recall election as the immediate and magical antidote to Walker's changes. We have a constitution and laws, and making changes the right way should take time. So what we'd clung to was probably a pipe dream anyway.
• The election didn't change the state, but this whole experience changed many of us. I have never seen so many people vote before. I felt inspired and overwhelmed to participate in voting today. I know many people who will never again do politics the way they used to. Look at how many people channeled their protest energy, anger, and frustration into more involvement in their communities. They are running for office, supporting candidates differently, having different kinds of conversations. We are changed, and we are better than we were.
• It is up to us to begin healing. Yes, we are hurting. Yes, we want to lash out, especially at those who are playing the ninny-ninny-boo-boo game. Each of us must be the change we wish to see. It is up to us to reach out, to build bridges, and move forward in a spirit of collaboration with our neighbors and coworkers. We learned to work with others of us, despite the many differences between us. Surely we can look for ways to remember the humanity in our opponents and ourselves.

We didn't Recall Walker, but we can remember to recall our passion, our dedication, our new commitment and burning fire to make our part of the world a good and shining place. We are not the same people we were sixteen months ago. We are better. We are stronger.

Let's allow ourselves to mourn for a few days. Watch inspirational videos. Cry when you hear the bagpipes. Fondly remember living in the Rotunda. Look at your collection of protest signs. wonder what on earth this world is coming to. And then gather yourself together with the friends you've built. Find a way to dust yourself off. Let yourself move forward. And know that you are the heart of Wisconsin.

Leave College Time Alone

As we get ready to vote in the recall election on Tuesday, the accusations and speculations are flying fast and furious. The candidates are accused of manipulating numbers, misrepresenting the things they've done well, being either unclear about they  would do differently or digging their heels into what they've done that led to this whole mess in the first place.

I think Scott Walker is a bad governor. He operates on the "it's easier to ask forgiveness than permission" principle, and then forgets about the whole "asking forgiveness" part. He tramples on process to do what he wants to do. He pits the citizens of Wisconsin against each other, as though taxpayers and public employees are completely different populations. Regardless of Tuesday's outcome, he has damaged this state in ways we may never recover from.

People are holding a magnifying glass to Walker's entire life, including his time as a student at Marquette University.We've already heard about dirty campaigning for a student government position. I've heard rumors of academic dishonesty through my academic circles. And now this morning, I'm reading an article that claims that Walker fathered a child while in college.

We are pointing back at his time as a young adult and saying, "Look! He hasn't changed at all. He lied/cheated/abandoned back then, so we can't trust him at all now."

And that's where I have some problems with all this. I've spent a lot of years with college students--first being one and then, for the past 24 years, working with them. And now I have two 20-year-olds and two 17-year-olds living in my home. I think it's fair to say that I have a lot of experience with young people. Not to put too fine a point on it, young adults do dumb things. Being stupid and making bad choices are part of the developmental process of becoming an adult, no less than the way a toddler takes a few steps and falls down while learning to walk.

I cringe to think of how some of my young adult decisions could be used against me now. There are things I'm ashamed of and things that hurt me. It's true that those experiences shaped me, just as Scott Walker's college experiences surely shaped him. But I think it's completely unfair to claim that those young adult experiences and choices represent who someone is 25 years later.

Indeed, this is a critical time in the recall--but these are cheap shots and they don't speak well of us. I want him out of that office, too. His "divide and conquer" strategy caused problem in my home, with my Republican husband and me arguing heatedly about politics for the first time in our marriage. I had to leave a state job I loved because my family couldn't handle the hit to our income. There's part of me that wants to do whatever it takes to get Walker supporters to change their minds--but I just don't think this is the right way.