Common Sense

Do you really need to be told to be quiet in a movie theater?  Seriously.  Is this an actual problem that a certain segment of our society just does not understand or do stupid people simply find me whenever I go to see a movie?  I like the theatrical experience.  I like the smell of popcorn, I like the sticky floors and the fungus laden high back seats.  I love previews, I love surround sound, I love the community atmosphere of being scared or laughing hysterically with people I don’t even know.

Here is what I don’t like: your cell phone, the sound of your voice, and the sound of the idiot next to you who also thinks talking in a movie theater is acceptable.  Do you really need someone like me to give you “the stare” before you shut up?  They even have public service announcements before the feature film that remind you just how unacceptable your discussion, no matter what it is, becomes once the lights go down and the movie starts.  Ok, I’m done with that.

You see, common sense, or more specifically, the lack thereof, is at the root of many problems in this world.  I would bet that if we all employed a bit more common sense, this world might be a better place.  As for me, I certainly am willing to give myself somewhat of a break since I was only 7 years old, but even at that age I did have some common sense.  My common sense at that time told me, in a fairly clear voice, that I did not know how to help the janitor fix the pool.  Further, common sense told me that the janitor knew that a 7 year old boy could not possibly possess the skills necessary to fix a giant swimming pool.  I failed to take heed of my common sense that day and that was the wrong day to make such a silly mistake.

Keep in mind that all I wanted was what was promised to me and that was a blue electric guitar and whatever I needed to do in order to make that a reality was alright with me.  At this particular moment in time, we were in the rifle range and he was sweeping the floor.  I clearly remember the way he leaned against that broom, he would sweep a little, lean a little more, sweep a little, lean, all the while calmly telling me “all I had to do was…”  It never fully made any sense to me at that time, but it soon it would become crystal clear.

He led me down into the underbelly of the pool.  I’d never been underneath a pool before and I remember several things I remember about it.  First, it was hot and humid.  I’m fairly certain no thought was given to the climate control of the area below the swimming pool.  I also remember that it was all grey, kind of like a den of asbestos but I’m sure it wasn’t.  It was grey like one of those movies that are not quite in black and white but they seem to have made everything a dull bluish grey for some reason.  And finally the smell of chlorine permeated the air.  To this day, even the slightest hint of chlorine makes the hair on the back of my neck stand on end.

He took me into a room with metal stairs and very sinister looking large vats of something making a tremendous amount of noise.  Why was I there?  What horrible mistake had I made today?  Common sense would have told me that this was not the place for a 7 year old boy, but there I was, wishing that someone would come walking into that room and down those stairs.  But no one did.

For some reason, there was a pile of burlap sacks that were either for use of some task to come, or discarded from some use in the past.  He took a burlap sack and tossed it onto the floor.  Now, did he toss it, throw it, or set it?  I’m not really sure but I am sure that it ended up on the floor and that was the end of my innocence.

After that day, I knew things I should never know.  I experienced what I should never have experienced.  I now had a secret and I was told that if anyone found out that the safety of my family would be in jeopardy.  I had a terrible feeling that I had done something wrong and that I was guilty of an awful crime.  Suddenly, reports of sexual attacks, rapes ending in murder caught my attention always wondering if the janitor had something to do with it.

But I am not alone.  I know I am not alone and I know that many people out there have been molested.  The problem is, too many people are living with this pain all by themselves, they have nowhere to turn, no one to talk to, and little chance of healing.  This blog and the book that is on its way is for those who are alone in all this mess.  This is too big of an event, too horrific of an experience to shoulder all alone, or do what most people do which is nothing at all.

I hope people can find this.  I hope I am able to help one person and bring just one person a moment of peace.

 

Please come back.