Written by Marianne Mansfield
I often think about an upcoming column while I’m driving. How will I structure it? What research will I need to do? What does my gut tell me about the issue I’ve chosen to discuss?
The other morning, as I left a local place of business, I was thinking about this column. It is a place I frequent often, and a place from which I always go directly home.
As I walked to the car, I knew that on this day, I had two more stops to make in town before I headed back. Ten minutes later, though, I was pulling into our neighborhood, having totally forgotten the other stops. I was thinking about the column, you see.
Let me be clear — I am not addressing cases like the heinous one in Georgia in which a father, Justin Ross Harris, is accused of murdering his 22-month-old son by leaving him in a closed car on June 18, 2014. It is not my job to investigate the facts and come to a decision about his innocence or guilt. His case is something else entirely.
There are no simple answers here, despite the fact that we desperately want them. This issue is complicated and layered.
Let us explore the layers as I see them.
We can directly address those parents and caregivers who feel it is expedient to leave young children in locked cars while they carry on their business, be it running into the bank or dropping a few dollars in the casino. To them I would shout, “It’s too long!” No matter the amount of time involved, a child left in a car is like a child shoved headfirst into a heated oven. No amount of time is acceptable. For this, we need a public service announcement campaign that sticks in our minds as well as the “Just Say No” campaign of former First Lady Nancy Reagan regarding the use of drugs. Did late-night talk show hosts make light of Mrs. Reagan’s slogan? Did I? Of course, everyone did. But, does it still resonate in our minds? It does in mine.
It’s too long.
For those parents and caregivers who are desperate, those who are forced to leave babies in a hot car or face not feeding them that night, I pray that your next step is to a place that will assist you in caring for your children, and I pray that society will make sure you know where they are. You have options. Open a phone book, check a website, ask a friend.
And to those desperate souls who drive away, confident in the knowledge that they have acted as a responsible, but understandably distracted parent, I ask society to understand that they are not monsters. They are not negligent. They are parents who love their children, but in a moment I’m certain they would give their lives to repeat, they lapsed.
Ask yourself if a moment has ever crossed your path when you thanked whoever you thank that the scenario played out your way and not the other way, not the way that resulted in death or destruction. Remember that instant when Fate smiled in your direction. And then remember the horror you felt about what could have happened.
And then, think about the people who leave children in cars to die. The difference between you and them is infinitesimal, yet gaping. Your life goes on; theirs does not, at least not as they’d envisioned it.
I cannot judge these men and women. I can only hope that they will find the comfort, the strength, and the resolve to move forward.
It could have been me. Or you.
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