Judge Not, That You Be Not Judged

My grandmother used to tell stories about me. I’m not the hero of those stories, it was just her elegant way of tattling on me. She once shared how my folks had invested money in a “brand-new” chain-link fence around the yard at our house in Marlow. I know that Dad was trying to fix the place up to please my Mom, but the fence was the first priority. I was then 18 months old. That meant I could walk. Stealthily. And run, where I wasn’t supposed to. And, as an added benefit, it meant that chain-link fences were mere obstacles to overcome, which I easily did one day. Still carrying my bottle, I quickly made my way down to Hwy 81. 

Dad would share his take on the story that he heard car brakes screaming, and horns honking. He looked around to see where I was, and when he couldn’t find me in the yard, he saw me in the highway, with bottle still in hand. A friend of Dad’s had stopped his car, and opened the doors to create a visible barrier for the truck making its way up the highway. Dad sailed over the fence and scooped me up. I listened patiently to the family relate that story from all sides, for probably thirty years. Yes, I was a handful.

Just like the little tyke who scaled the barriers at the gorilla enclosure in Cincinnati. Whatever the male Silverback gorilla had in mind when he seized the boy, it sealed his fate. The zookeepers and police made the right call: shoot the gorilla. Nobody liked it. Silverback gorillas are rare in nature. Thousands of “better-informed” individuals have second-guessed the police and zoo officials since then. Shame on them. 

Then, the “well-informed” public turns its vitriol on the hapless parents of a little boy. “Can’t you keep better watch on your kids?” they yell, followed by calls for “The parents ought to be arrested!” Let he/she who is without sin cast the first stone. Saphronia and I had a rambunctious three-and-a-half year old boy to slip in behind us at the lake one day. He fell off his air mattress and nearly drowned, but was rescued by his favorite aunt Debbie. She’s his favorite because she is quick, as well as a fun aunt. We got yelled at, too.

All I can say is that life isn’t fair, and accidents happen. Sometimes you are spared the consequences. Angels, like family friends or fast-moving aunts happen along at the right time. Sometimes, a valuable animal dies. It’s an accident. A tragedy. Sadly, they happen. I’m just glad the little boy is OK.