I was sitting on my couch when my mom called me. As usual, I was exasperated just from seeing her name. “Hello” I said as dryly as possible.”Billy? Can you come to Riverview Baptist? I got rear ended. I’m fine. The dog is fine. I just need you to come here.” I sat stunned for a moment. “Of course. I’ll be there shortly.” I grabbed my keys, and on the way out the door, I told the wife to exercise/eat without me, as I didn’t know how long I’d be gone. 

When I pulled up, my mom was hysterical. She was sitting in her Toyota Rav, clutching the steering wheel, and sobbing heavily. I had not seen her this upset in a long time. She rolled down her window, and said “They’re gonna total it, I just know it. I don’t want to lose my car. I can’t” I tried to calm her down by speaking in soothing tone. “Oh, come on.” I said, “It can’t be that bad.” I wandered around to  the side of the car, and saw she had just been scraped really hard on her rear passenger panel. 

I came back around, and told her that it was gonna be fine. You could hardly see anything, and it really did blend in with the rest of her already beat up vehicle. My mom has never been the best driver. In fact, she’s likely the worst driver I know. I got her to come out of the car, and come take a look, and that started to calm her down quite a bit. The other people at the scene were the other driver, and the driver’s mom. The driver’s mom seemed nice enough. So did the driver, truth be told. They were asking if my mom was ok, and I muttered something about being shaken up. 

I sat, and had my arm around my mom. She sat there quietly snuffling, and worrying her hands. When the cops arrived, she got a little apprehensive, but I again calmed her down, and told her the worst that would happen is that they would write her a ticket. “Go get your license and insurance.” I said, and she tottered off back to the driver side. 

The cop, examined both vehicles, and got the license and insurance information from each driver. He talked to the other driver first. I couldn’t overhear what was being said, but it seemed pretty obvious when the first words out of the cops mouth when he came over were “Ma’am do you own a cell phone?” My mom said she did, and the cop asked if she had been on it. She said no, and he kind of nodded and stared at her car. My mom explained what happened, and right away, I knew my mom was at fault. I’m not basing that on any prejudice towards my mom’s regrettable abilities, it really did seem like she was at fault. In any even, it was around that time, that cop number two showed up. 

Cop number two seemed more interested in crowd control as he gave me the once over the minute he got out of his car. I don’t really blame him, as I had on my exercise pants, a ratty tee, and my skull shoes. Top it off with my shaggy hair, and my creepy mustache, and I’m sure he sized me up in less than twenty seconds. 

It went on as these things normally do. The second cop that showed up had a nice conversation with the mom, and her daughter. Then he breezed on by us, like we didn’t exist. This didn’t help my mood any. I didn’t really want to gab at this man, but it was clear that he had chosen a favorite in this situation, and it wasn’t the old, poorly dressed, practically senile lady, and her degenerate son. 

As expected my mom got a ticket, but what surprised me was that she got two. One for the reckless driving, and one for not having current proof of insurance. As it happens, my mom had spilled the contents of her purse a few days ago, and part of what had fallen out was her new insurance. She never got around to putting it back in her purse, and we found it easily on her kitchen counter. 

Here is where the story really begins, though.

My mom leans over to me and says “I hope your daddy isn’t drunk when he gets here.” I of course startled at this and queried “What?” She went on to tell me that after work he stops off for “a cold one” just about every night, then he come home and drinks Crown Royal on the rocks. I knew about the Crown Royal. I didn’t know he was getting drunk a lot. You see, when I was younger, my dad was an alcoholic. He’d get boozed up, come home and beat on me and mom for awhile, and then pass out. It’s part of the why I’m so awkward around him now. I never really felt good enough at anything around him. He was an honor student, I fucked off in school. He was in the military, I’m more what you would call non-combative. He is a hard worker, and well, I’m a hard worker, so I didn’t really fall too far from the tree there. There, and other ways that are best left to another story.

Anyway, my dad shows up, and it’s kind of obvious that he has had something to drink. I could barely smell it on him, and it could have been aftershave, but I’ve never known my dad to still smell like it at the end of the day. He got there just as the cops were leaving. I explained to my dad everything that happened, and he took it all in stride. Which was surprising to me, because me, my mom, and the wife all thought he was going to lose his mind. 

We notice that mom’s tire had gone flat as a result of the impact. My mom has triple A, so I thought he would call them, and I wanted nothing more than to get out of there. Much to my chagrin, he decided to change the tire. The funny part of this situation is that the first cop as he is leaving said “What? You don’t know how to change a tire?” I glared at him for a full ten seconds before saying tersely “No.” I guess I could have justified it by saying that my dad worked a lot while I was growing up, at one point having three jobs, and when he wan’t working he was telling me how much I’m screwing up, so I never really wanted to spend time with him, but fuck this cop. He shook his head, and walked away leaving me feeling emasculated, and embarrassed. 

So, my dad looks at me and says “You don’t know howto change a tire?” I kind of sighed, and said “No, dad. I never really had anyone to show me” He took this as an invitation to teach me right then and there how to change a tire, and it’s a lot easier than I once had thought. I don’t know that I could repeat it, but it’s handy to have done it once. 

We said our goodbyes, and I stood in the parking lot for a minute thinking. What really bothered me about the whole thing was that I felt nothing. I wasn’t concerned about my mom. I wasn’t concerned about my dad’s possible fall back into alcoholism. I just didn’t care. 

I’ve had a bad past couple of years, emotionally. Those of you in the know, know what I speak of. My relationship with my parents has never been more strained, and my relationship with the good lord strained, and broken. So I guess I’m not terribly surprised, I’m just shocked at how little I cared. I never thought I would reach that point. It used to be that you could pick on me all you wanted, but if you talked about my mom, I’d strangle you. In one case, literally. Though that cousin is a dick, and he totally deserved it. Plus he spit on me, but I’m getting off topic.

Here I sit. Two days before my thirty-third birthday. I’m trying to turn it around. I’ve been carrying a lot of anger around. A lot. At people, at religion, at everything. I’ve never been more acidic in my entire life. I’ve driven people away from me, and I don’t want to be that guy anymore. I don’t think I’ll ever get any feeling back for my folks, but I want to try and move forward. I just don’t know how many more of these accidents I can handle.

Let me put a disclaimer out there. I speak in broad generalities. In addition, if what I’m about to say TRULY rubs you the wrong way, feel free to message me about it, or call me on my shit below. We can have a discussion about it.

Kids.

Hang on, I’m not pissed at kids in general. Hell, I may be turning into a curmudgeonly old man, but I still don’t mind kids. I just have some things I’d like to say.

First. Please teach your kids respect. One of my friends actually has taught her kids to open doors for people and be polite, just in general. That is amazing, and a perfect example of what I’m talking about. I was in a Wal-Mart once trying to check out at the automotive counter. Honestly, the smell of tires is euphoric to me for some reason, and it’s a quicker damn line. Win/win. This lady ahead of me had a kid who was bellowing at the top of his lungs about something. I really couldn’t catch because all I heard was the mom, in a flat, dead inside voice say “stop. stop. stop. stop it. stop it. stop it. seriously.” This mantra of hers repeated the whole time as was the perfect jackhammer in this kids noisy fucking street. She was not even embarrassed. She calmly stared dead ahead. So, staving off all desire to shake the both of them, I just looked away.

That is until I felt a tiny fist pound on my foot.

I looked down in horror, as this kid had thrown himself on the ground, and started pounding on it, and my foot. I let him hit me for at least a good thirty seconds while I tried to grasp this. Finally, the mom picks him up, and drags him to the counter. There, she propped him up against it, while she checked out. Pinning him with her knees on either side of his torso. He then proceeds to go motherfucking Rocky Balboa on her sides. I mean, this kid could have put Tyson down. Well, Tyson now, not Mike Tyson’s Punch-Out Tyson.

When I was a kid, my mom or my dad would have pulled me aside and threatened me within an inch of my life if I pulled that shit at home, and in public? Wow, I can’t even imagine the legendary ass beating because I never pulled stunts like that! This kid clearly knows no boundaries, rules, or has any respect, and he’ll grow up to be a selfish piece of shit.

Second: I hate, HAAAAAAATE the idea of private, religious schools. I’m mainly leveling my shotgun of hate at the christian schools around here, but if anyone knows of any other religious schools in this area, feel free to let me know, and I’ll hate them too. Private religious schools, or “Faith Factories”, as I like to call them may do a fine job in teaching your kids some things. Hell, they may even do a good job teaching your kid manners, but I refuse to believe that they offer a broad world view of things. They say themselves that they teach a faith based doctrine. You can teach someone about faith. You can’t teach someone to HAVE faith. That is something someone either develops on their own, or they don’t. Also, I believe in having a broad world view. Now, I was fortunate that one of my dad’s many obsessions was religion. To that end, we joined the Baha’i faith. To boil it down to it’s real basic teachings, all prophets are messengers of god, and all religions worship the same god. Other than that, it’s like most other religions. Do this, don’t do that, quit being a dick. I never had a problem with that last one until this past decade. Anyway, a school that teaches a faith based doctrine can’t possibly let kids make their own decisions regarding faith, or what they believe in. They are teaching them one way, and one way only. That is fascism, if you ask me.

Third. Home schooling may be a great way to protect your kid from the scary outside world but it leaves them unprepared to deal with social situations on their own. I really hate to say this, but I’m of the firm belief that kids need public schools to give them a starter course on life. Life is a jungle. Life is cruel. Life is also amazing, fun, and wonderful. You can only protect them for so long. Eventually, you have to let them go, or they will have to figure out how to act in social situations when they should have a good grasp on it. I’m also aware of parents taking their kids to parks, and what not to have social interaction. Sorry, that is still supervised by you. Kids need to make mistakes.

A good example of my argument JUST HAPPENED. A 22 year old soldier in Fayetteville, North Carolina was stalking and raping women who he KNEW were alone while their husbands were deployed or out on duty at Fort Bragg. This 22 year old even had huts built where he kept stockpiles of guns, knives, and ammo, so he could stalk them more efficiently. There are nine rapes he is being held accountable for, with more suspected. This 22 year old model citizen is the product of a strict religious, home schooled upbringing. His parents were both ministers, and they even worked alongside one of their local large mega-churches. They were so strict that if someone appeared on TV in a bathing suit, they would immediately change the channel. Oh, and did I mention this guy is a Tulsan? Thanks, buddy.

Additionally, I realize that any one of you can say “You don’t have/wan’t kids, so you can’t tell me how to raise mine”. You’re right. I can’t Nor would I force my beliefs on you. However, just because I don’t have/want kids doesn’t invalidate my opinions. I was a kid, after all. I saw the mistakes my parents made. I see the mistakes other parents make, and while I feel like my opinion is right, you probably feel just as strongly that yours is too.

The bottom line is, I had a rough childhood, both at home, and at school. I empathize with the need to shelter your kids from that. Still though, I wouldn’t trade my experiences growing up. Well, maybe the one where the girl said I raped her. That sucked.