WordSisters

Tag: Elizabeth di Grazia

  • Had I Prepared My Daughter?

    Photo by Uncle Scott

    My 14-year-old daughter was half way to Wisconsin Dells with girlfriends for a birthday party when my gut tightened.

    The party was a sleepover. She’d be gone for a couple of nights.

    Maybe it was the distance that was the source of the fear. Maybe it was because it would be a couple of nights. Maybe it was her age. Maybe it was how beautiful she is. Maybe it was her innocence. Maybe it was her growing independence, her getting out into the world. There would be more days away from home. There would be longer distances.

    Had I prepared her for an unwelcomed glance or touch? Was she prepared if that would happen? How would she respond?

    I could almost hear her nervous giggle.

    What if it became an unwanted advance?

    I put myself in her place. My body froze. That’s what I knew how to do.

    It helped when I thought of how differently Jody and I had raised our daughter from how I was raised. Even from a very young age, she was taught that her body was hers. She was taught that she had every right to expect privacy. She was taught that it was okay to lock the bathroom door. She was taught that it was okay to lock her bedroom door. She was taught that she had every right to expect respect. She was taught to say, “No”.

    This calmed me.

    If my daughter wasn’t respected she would recognize that. She knew what respect was.

    That’s what Jody and I had given her. Her ability to recognize a danger signal by showing her acceptable behavior in our home.

    This calmed me.

    I realized that Jody and I had taught her a lot of things. We taught her love, and therefore she will expect love. We taught her kindness, and empathy, and to be herself. We taught her to dream. We taught her to travel domestically and internationally and to do so safely.

    We’ve also taught her that it is okay to be alone, to feel pain, and sadness.

    Most importantly we’ve taught her she can always come home. We are home.

    She will travel far.

     

  • What We Don’t See

    First off, my love to Beverly Cory and to those who loved her. I didn’t know Beverly but she could have been my friend or my financial advisor. The financial advisor Jody and I work with is also our dear friend and aunt to our children.

    While volunteering for Richfield Police Reserves, near the 8-mile mark of the Woodlake half marathon, I positioned the police car to block the street. I turned on the squad lights, indicating that the intersection was closed. Half marathon runners could run safely up 71st St E.  Many would shout out some thanks as they went by. I’d wave in acknowledgement.

    With the police car doing most of my work, my mind was on what I was hearing on the police radio.

    The speed of information and the rapid coordination of agencies astounded me.

     

    A person had been robbed at gunpoint. Police chase ensued. Car crashed into swamp. Man fled into nursing home. Perimeter set up. Command post opened. Swat team deployed. Help requested from nearby agencies. Police dog on scene. Request for another police dog. Photo of suspect received. Witness identified suspect. Snipers placed on roof tops. Squad cars, armoured vehicles, and helicopters surrounded the area. Area on lockdown. Evacuation of White Pine Living Center begun. A methodical door-to-door search of the center. Buses on site for residents and staff.

    Though it was peaceful at my post, with runners yelling their appreciation, my heart rate increased, my blood pressure rose, and my breathing quickened.

    In Mendota Heights, attention had turned to the office building.

    Dispatch continuously fed the command center with information: persons who could possibly still be in the office building, the vehicles they drove, and their physical description.

    Intensity continued at the senior center and at the same time increased at the office building.

    A door-by-door search of the office building begun. A robot deployed. Beverly Cory found. My heart sank.

    Long after I took off my Police Reserve officer uniform, I couldn’t stop thinking of Beverly and what might have transpired in her office. I don’t know what did. When I change into civilian clothes, I become a member of the public. I receive news the same as you.

    One thing that I knew for sure, is that the police would work 24/7, and use all the resources that they had available to catch the murder suspect. I felt safer knowing that. I also knew that the police were doing a job that I could not possibly do.

  • “Go On, Git”

    “Go On, Git”

    I’m excited about Juan Jose’ and Crystel growing up. Each milestone they have, I celebrate.

    Sometimes, I’m ready before they are.

    I couldn’t wait for Juan Jose’ to learn how to ride his bike without training wheels. Crystel had been riding for months. Finally, I convinced him to give it a try. We went to a grassy knoll at our nearby park. Along with his bike helmet, he insisted on wearing knee, elbow and wrist pads. If he could have figured out how to bungee a pillow around his waist, I’m sure that he would have.

    With a push, I launched him. At high speed, he sailed down the rise, pedaled when he hit the flat field, and after he biked as far as he could, he fell.

    From that moment, he had enough confidence to bike on his own.

    Some parents lament time passing too quickly for their children. I’m loving it. It can’t come quick enough for me. Is this because I’m an older parent? I’m 58-years old with two 14-year olds. I want to be present for all of their firsts.

    Or, is it because I was numb as a teenager? I thought I’d be dead by the time I was 25.

    Through Juan Jose’ and Crystel, I experience their thrills, their excitement, and their fear. I get to see what being alive looks like.

    Recently, Juan Jose’, Crystel, and a friend attended a moped driving class. I expected there to be other 14-year-olds in the classroom. When I opened the door, I was surprised. There were adults with tattoos, mustaches, beards, muscle shirts, and bulking biceps sitting at desks.

    I pushed the children into the classroom without any protective gear. All of a sudden, they were surrounded by a classroom of grownups. They were launched.

    I told the teacher, “I found these folks looking for the moped class.” Now, they are learning to drive.