I Live in Every Town
{Gregorific lives in State College, PA}
Guilty. Of course he is. From the minute I read the testimonies of the eight victims I knew something terrible had happened and was covered up in Happy Valley. There is no way I would buy that so many separate individuals would claim abuse of that nature if it weren’t absolutely true. By the same token, I have trouble believing a man of that age with that amount of power and so little regard for the accusations. What I wasn’t sure of was how the community would react and how the system would judge a man who had been lifted to such esteem.
Guilty. I’m relieved that the jury was of sound mind and moral conscience. I’m proud of them. I’m also proud of the college, the football fans for their outrage and overflowing support for the victims, and the heartfelt efforts for prevention of sexual abuse. Most of all, I’m proud of the victims for standing up and risking it all to spare future children.
Yet, the question is deeper than one man and one town.
Is State College ‘Every Town’? Could this have happened anywhere? Is it happening in other places, with less famous football programs and less beloved public figures? I would hazard that the answer is yes. Even in a place dubbed Happy Valley, you must watch your children, examine influences in your lives, and listen to your gut. Did we as a town or as a collective make athletics, football, and fame more important than a child’s safety and innocence? It’s worth serious introspection. No one can read the accounts of abuse and not wonder, ‘What would I do?’ or ‘Would I have suspected?’ How did such sickness go unnoticed, unreported, uninvestigated?
The horror of the abuse and length of time it went on is revolting. It’s worse than anyone could imagine and yet we’re reading about it in the newspapers and speaking of it daily. This tragedy has broken something important in State College, a sacred social covenant. We do not live in the wild where nature is in a constant war of survival and where the strongest prey on the weakest. We live in a civilized town where the love of football, a common interest that binds the community spirit, instills local pride and identity. Did this pride lead to such a disturbing abuse of power that the landscape of Happy Valley is forever altered? ?
And, if so, how do we move on from that? Can good come from tragedy? The general public seems to be soul searching about what constitutes ‘right’ and ‘wrong’ and if there are levels of culpability. This is in regard to the people who may have known or had hints of the crimes. Inaction is close to guilt; a blind eye to abuse is not right. Yet this tragedy has lifted the level of social consciousness about what is morally right. Morality is not a popular topic, so this too has changed and brought values to the public conversation. As children we have instincts to be honest and open. As adults, we grow blinders of rationalization, image control, and justification which crowd our moral consciousness, squeezing out our instinctive knowledge.
Guilt. This tragedy has torn off our blinders and while we blink in the glare of a harsh reality we can actually see where we have wandered. With this verdict comes the opportunity for each of us to evaluate our own moral compasses and refresh our energies to protecting our children first and always. It’s not over; it’s not case closed. It’s a beginning with a new, deeper respect for victims of abuse and for the collective responsibility to stand up -no matter the consequences- for what is right.
Faith,
~gregorific
{Gregorific lives in State College, PA}
Guilty. Of course he is. From the minute I read the testimonies of the eight victims I knew something terrible had happened and was covered up in Happy Valley. There is no way I would buy that so many separate individuals would claim abuse of that nature if it weren’t absolutely true. By the same token, I have trouble believing a man of that age with that amount of power and so little regard for the accusations. What I wasn’t sure of was how the community would react and how the system would judge a man who had been lifted to such esteem.
Guilty. I’m relieved that the jury was of sound mind and moral conscience. I’m proud of them. I’m also proud of the college, the football fans for their outrage and overflowing support for the victims, and the heartfelt efforts for prevention of sexual abuse. Most of all, I’m proud of the victims for standing up and risking it all to spare future children.
Yet, the question is deeper than one man and one town.
Is State College ‘Every Town’? Could this have happened anywhere? Is it happening in other places, with less famous football programs and less beloved public figures? I would hazard that the answer is yes. Even in a place dubbed Happy Valley, you must watch your children, examine influences in your lives, and listen to your gut. Did we as a town or as a collective make athletics, football, and fame more important than a child’s safety and innocence? It’s worth serious introspection. No one can read the accounts of abuse and not wonder, ‘What would I do?’ or ‘Would I have suspected?’ How did such sickness go unnoticed, unreported, uninvestigated?
The horror of the abuse and length of time it went on is revolting. It’s worse than anyone could imagine and yet we’re reading about it in the newspapers and speaking of it daily. This tragedy has broken something important in State College, a sacred social covenant. We do not live in the wild where nature is in a constant war of survival and where the strongest prey on the weakest. We live in a civilized town where the love of football, a common interest that binds the community spirit, instills local pride and identity. Did this pride lead to such a disturbing abuse of power that the landscape of Happy Valley is forever altered? ?
And, if so, how do we move on from that? Can good come from tragedy? The general public seems to be soul searching about what constitutes ‘right’ and ‘wrong’ and if there are levels of culpability. This is in regard to the people who may have known or had hints of the crimes. Inaction is close to guilt; a blind eye to abuse is not right. Yet this tragedy has lifted the level of social consciousness about what is morally right. Morality is not a popular topic, so this too has changed and brought values to the public conversation. As children we have instincts to be honest and open. As adults, we grow blinders of rationalization, image control, and justification which crowd our moral consciousness, squeezing out our instinctive knowledge.
Guilt. This tragedy has torn off our blinders and while we blink in the glare of a harsh reality we can actually see where we have wandered. With this verdict comes the opportunity for each of us to evaluate our own moral compasses and refresh our energies to protecting our children first and always. It’s not over; it’s not case closed. It’s a beginning with a new, deeper respect for victims of abuse and for the collective responsibility to stand up -no matter the consequences- for what is right.
Faith,
~gregorific
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