A few of the many things I learned from being a cop for so long was how to read people's body language, facial expressions and how to use all three rearview mirrors in a police car to keep tabs on my surroundings.
Next time you're sitting at a stop light don't text someone on your cell phone (which is illegal) or search for a new radio station to amuse yourself, instead take a look around. Each mirror in your car may have has its own story to tell.
I was stopped in traffic recently when I started thinking about our middle son, Raymond, who was turning 13 years old in just a few days. As I did, my usual scan of faces in the cars around me via the three mirrored portals led me to notice a man with a tightly-clenched jaw and thinly-pursed lips driving a vehicle to my left rear. His hands were grasping the steering wheel firmly as he slowly shook his head from side to side.
I wondered why he was so upset. I then watched him turn his head
to his right and lean forward as he began speaking to an unseen passenger in the front seat. Curious, I discreetly adjusted my side mirror. I could hear a slight "wrrr" from the motor of the mirror as it turned to solve the mystery of the driver's angst.
It revealed he had an adolescent passenger. I could barely see the young man's face and head above the dashboard. He was holding his left hand against his forehead, partially covering his eyes. If I had to guess what was going on, I suspect it was what my dad would call an "ass chewing."
I quickly looked away because I felt like I was an unwelcome, anonymous observer to a private father and son discussion. As I looked forward, I thought how many times I have been in those same shoes. Both as a son and a father.
As I pulled away from the stop light I could not help myself, I glanced one last time and saw the father's right hand now extended toward the windshield as he was appearing to count off the errors of his son's ways, starting with his thumb and moving quickly to his pinky finger.
Having seen the opposite behavior so often in police work, I thought the caring communication between a parent and a child was really good stuff. The vast majority of juveniles I placed handcuffs on had bad, limited or no parental involvement; or worse, they had parents who simply wanted to be their kids' BFF (best friends forever). I'm sorry to report that taking parenting out of the equation is rarely successful.
Parents sometimes turn to educators, law enforcement and
government agencies to do the heavy lifting when it comes to their children. By that time, it is often too late. Their beautiful children who were abandoned early on in their lives will frequently lose their way, and the parents will not see their dreams of them being successful adults come to fruition.
If you think any high school in this county is drug free you are dreaming. Regardless of how much you pay for tuition or how often the local school administration deploys drug- sniffing dogs; drugs, alcohol and other bad things in school (and elsewhere) will always be there.
It is not reasonable to think the beat cop, the school counselor, teacher or coach can be relied upon to save your child. They are all incredibly helpful and dedicated professionals that do save kids and provide support, but they can only do so much. With each teacher in most high schools seeing more than 125 kids a day, the most I think you can hope for is that they keep you informed and fire a flare in the air if your son or daughter is exhibiting problematic behavior.
I know some of our readers may not know what a clutch is, but our family clutch is now fully depressed, and I am trying to ease our family car into second gear as we pick up speed. This family ride will be over before we know it, and we are just trying our best to keep our car between the lines.
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Happy birthday, Raymond!
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Seeing that man talking to his son reminded me that Theresa and I are now moving into a new set of challenges with not one, but two teenagers and a third one getting closer to the teenage years. We no longer worry about uncovered swimming pools or our three boys wandering into traffic. Our talks are now moving toward who their friends are, social media, drugs, STDs, alcohol, driving and trying to plan for college.
On Sunday night we sat around our kitchen table and sang happy thirteenth birthday to Raymond. When we asked him to make a wish, I snuck in a little prayer before he blew out his candles that we get this next phase of our children's lives right. Only time will tell.
In the meantime, if I ever see that anonymous man again, I just might mention that he and his son's private discussion in traffic touched more lives than he could ever imagined, and maybe, just maybe, it encouraged a parent somewhere to turn off the radio or set down their phone and have a talk with their son or daughter. That vital communication could make all the difference to the child and the family, as we all seem to be shifting gears so quickly.
Have a great week!
Ray and Theresa Shay
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