DISTURBING ENCOUNTER WITH A FRUSTRATED FATHER

"And, ye fathers, provoke not your children to wrath: but bring them up in the nurture and admonition of the Lord." (Ephesians 6:4)

"Automobile accidents happen when least expected!" So proclaimed Eugene A. Baril, my father, on many occasions. Dad had a distinguished career as a law enforcement officer and later as a law enforcement executive. Most of his service was with the Massachusetts Registry of Motor Vehicles (what's called the "D.M.V." in most states). Dad was not only the leading authority on "early motoring" in Massachusetts (i.e. automobiles and their drivers of the 1890s and 1900s); he was also an expert on the causes of automobile accidents, having investigated many car crashes during the 1960s. That line, "Automobile accidents happen when least expected!" was uttered by him on many occasions. I believe it's not only automobile accidents that happen when least expected, but there are countless sudden, unpleasant, disturbing occurrences which happen when least expected. I experienced one of those this past Friday afternoon in downtown Framingham, Massachusetts.

My shift at the answering service ended at 5:30 p.m. but I needed to see my boss briefly about something at 6:30. I had an hour's time to kill. My life can be so stressful and so hectic that I greatly looked forward to an hour of just sitting in my old Subaru, checking voicemail messages and calling folks back, and then reading from the Book of Romans in the New Testament. I checked and discovered that a friend had left a voicemail message. I'd give him a call back, then I'd relax and read.

The parking lot I'd parked the Subaru in is not a particularly well designed lot at all. The spaces are way too small. The compact Subaru just about fits into a space there. It's common to see large pickup trucks and SUVs, as it were, bursting out of the diagonal spaces. It's a private lot, but it has parking meters. Many of the meters are broken. The owners should frankly be embarrassed to even charge for parking there. There's very little room to maneuver between rows of cars. My own car has been hit and damaged in that lot, as was my daughter's previous car. More often than not, I choose to park in a lot that's farther away, but on Friday, it was in that tiny, cramped lot next door to where my place of employment is that I chose to park, for some reason.

As I was listening to the my friend's voicemail message, I was distracted by the sound of loud talking coming from a short distance across the parking lot. I glanced over, through the front passenger window, to see a little boy around age eight and a man around forty engaged in a rather intense discussion. (Both appeared to be white, middle-class Americans.) The man, a bit stocky, wearing dark but summery clothes and having thinning black hair spoke in a stern, angry tone. The boy, wearing what most moms would probably describe as "red playclothes" was blonde. The boy did not look very much like the man, so I wondered if they were related. The boy, sounding quite intelligent and much older than his years asked, "Why are you threatening me?" and later pled, "Stop threatening me!" to the man. I was genuinely alarmed. I wondered if this was a kidnapping victim or something like that. I felt apprehensive, but continued to watch and listen.

I then heard the man tell the boy that he could speak to his son in that manner because he was his father. That explained some of what I was witnessing. I felt better; or did I? I'm pretty conservative when it comes to the whole thing of parents disciplining their children. I don't have a problem with parents speaking loudly when they need to, or even spanking, on occasion. My own father did plenty of each. My own father also gave plenty of lectures. Over the course of my life, I must have heard hundreds of lectures from my father. I can't remember one time, however, that my father lectured me in public; and I'm hard pressed to think of a time that he even yelled at me in public. Dad reserved those moments for the privacy of his own home. The father I was watching went on and on, accusing his son of constantly answering adults back, constantly not paying attention, being disrespectful, and being irresponsible. He hammered the point that his son had to be constantly told to brush his teeth and other such things. The son did not yell at his father, but it was obvious he had only minimal respect for him. Again, he confronted his father regarding "threatening" him. Amazingly, the son did not sound angry. He sounded like a professional psychologist giving directions and trying to facilitate a difficult discussion in the middle of a therapy session. For better or for worse, this was no typical eight year old! I did think the father was a bit too intense and a bit too overbearing. I also could not understand why this conversation had to take place loudly, outdoors, in the midst of a public parking lot. Yet, I felt some sympathy for the father. At one point, he knelt down, looking his son in the eye. "Get out of my face," the boy retorted. I honestly felt a little bit sorry for the father. His approach was wrong, but he seemed to be trying to get on the son's level.

Suddenly and instantly, everything changed. "There's a man watching us," the little boy softly said. The father went on lecturing; ignoring what his son had just said. "There's a man watching us," the little boy said again, this time much louder.

"I don't give a F _ _ K if a guy is watching us!" the father blurted out loudly and angrily. I was not expecting that at all. A few more words were said that I could not hear. In the next moment, the boy was getting into their dark-colored minivan, and the father turned in my direction. Dad raised his right hand and gave me the finger! He then yelled, "F_ _ K YOU!"

In the kind of fashion you'd see in a dramatic movie on television, the minivan and its passengers very quickly rolled out of the parking lot.

For about a minute, I was numb.

Have you ever seen that television program that's on the ABC Television Network called "What Would You Do?" with John Quinones? It features disturbing scenes of one kind or another that are dramatized by actors in order to get the reactions of real people. I so wanted John Quinones and a camera crew to suddenly show up and tell me this was all part of the program and that the boy and the father were just actors. But, no, that did not happen. What I'd seen was all too real!

The sad thing is this: if the father was trying to teach his son respect, civility, and responsibility, he badly blew it. The father failed miserably and catastrophically! I believe that son will never forget that scene- never! When he's eighteen, he will remember it. When he's driving his wife and newborn baby home from the hospital, he'll remember it. When he's standing at his father's graveside, he'll remember it. And, yes, when he's eighty-two and living on the Alzheimer's unit of a nursing home; sitting in a wheelchair, drooling, unable to remember his children's names or his date of birth, he will still be able to vividly remember that scene.

Yes, NUMB is what I was immediately following that troubling scene. My honest questions are: Did I do the wrong thing to sit there, watch and listen? (Keep in mind, it was in a very public place.) Should I have said anything to the father? Is my assessment of the damage I believe that father did to his son correct? And, if you had been there, what would you have done?