The Same Black Line
Sometimes it seems that events in my life conspire to cause me see things in new ways. This has been the case the last few days, and some thoughts that have rattling around in my brain have congealed in new and meaningful ways for me.
The first event was the other night when Dana and I decided to watch a movie. I had put one on my Netflix queue that I was interested in because of someone I know. The movie is The Woodsman, starring Kevin Bacon, who plays the subject of the movie Walter, and Kyra Sedgwick, who plays his girlfriend Vicki. At the outset of the story, Walter has just been released from a 12-year term in prison and has returned to his hometown. He rents an apartment from the only landlord in town who will rent to him, and he is able to return to his former job, at a lumber yard, where he eventually meets Vicki. Walter is obviously a very troubled, unhappy man, filled with self-loathing and fear. He is estranged from most of his family because of what he did. He especially wants to see his sister, whom he loves dearly, and her daughter, who was just a baby when Walter went to prison. His sister won’t see him, but her husband Carlos is friendly with Walter and visits him and shares news of the family with him.
The reason I was interested in this movie is because of the crime of which Walter was convicted. Walter is a pedophile. He was convicted of molesting little girls. When he confesses this to Vicki, he says, “It’s not what you think. I never hurt any of them. I liked smelling their hair.”
As I said, I was interested in seeing this movie because of someone I know. I have a friend whom I have known literally all my life. Our mothers, who were neighbors, were pregnant with us at the same time. I was born about a month before he was. We were childhood friends and buds in high school. I was best man at this wedding. Last year he was convicted of molesting his grandson. His sentence is 10 years in Howard McLeod Correctional Center in Atoka, OK. With time served prior to his trial, his projected release date is April 1, 2019. Then he will be on probation until May 2034. He and I will turn 78 that year.
The crime of pedophilia is a heinous act, destructive to helpless children. In Oklahoma, those convicted of this crime must register as sex offenders for life, cannot live near schools, daycare centers, or parks, and are generally outcasts from society. I have heard that mental health practitioners and the courts consider pedophiles as beyond rehabilitation. Once a pedophile, always a pedophile.
For awhile I thought that my friend couldn’t have done such a thing, that there must be some huge mistake. However, the local paper said that in court, when he plead guilty to avoid going to trial and bringing further pain to his family, the judge asked him what he was guilty of. He said, “I touched my grandson’s penis.”
The Woodsman was a powerful movie, despite the difficult topic and the misery Walter lives in. Walter fights his demons and, with the help of a therapist and Vicki, struggles to become what he calls “normal.” But when he is persecuted by some co-workers who discover what he did, the stress Walter feels becomes too great, and he seeks relief in his old habits. He follows an 11-year–old girl Robin, whom he has previously befriended. He talks to her in a secluded area of park, eventually asking her to sit on his lap. The girl’s reaction becomes a turning point for Walter.
She tells him she doesn’t really want to sit on his lap, that her father asks her to do that when they are alone. She says that when she sits on her daddy’s lap, he moves his legs around in funny ways. She says it makes her feel nervous. But because she likes Walter, and because she is an innocent little girl, she tells him she will sit on his lap if he really wants her to.
In that moment, Walter’s focus changes from his own pain to Robin’s pain. He gets an inkling of what her father has done to her and of the pain he has caused her, and, therefore, Walter has an understanding of what he has done to his victims. He tells Robin to go home. The movie ends with some hope. Walter and Vicki move in together, and Walter seems to have moved past his fear and self-hatred. It seems that he believes he has changed.
The second event that moved my thinking along was a profound Facebook Note yesterday from my friend Donna Pratt Ridge, titled “I SEE You.” In this note, Donna talks about the labels we put on other people, and how those labels separate us from people different from ourselves. She concludes with this: “At our core we ALL want to be acknowledged. To be loved. To be accepted. To know we matter to someone. Because I have been challenging myself lately in this area, I also challenge you to become aware of your tendency to label and purposely catch yourself doing it. Then push past that and SEE the person you would have otherwise written off. Talk to them. Get to know them. Engage them. And in so doing you will find the beauty. SEE them. Namaste. The divine in me honors the divine in you.” Thanks, Donna.
The third event was this morning, when I was working on stuff for my job at our kitchen table and listening to Pandora radio. A song came on that I had heard many times, but never paid much attention to. Music often speaks to me in powerful ways. The song is “Sixth Avenue Heartache,” written by Jakob Dylan and performed by the Gin Blossoms.
The song is about something that Dylan experienced when he was younger. There was a homeless man in his neighborhood who was always just there. Jakob never spoke to him and didn’t really know him. The old guy played guitar like Jakob did. One night Jakob heard a gunshot and a scream. The next day the homeless guy is gone from his usual spot, although his guitar and his other stuff are still there.
The chorus of the song says
“And the same black line that was drawn on you
Was drawn on me
And now it's drawn me in
6th Avenue heartache.”
I don’t know for sure what Jakob Dylan means by “the same black line.” For me it stands for our connectedness as humans. Jakob woke up to the fact that, although the old man was just some homeless guy, a stranger, he and Jakob were not that different. God made the homeless guy the same way he made Jakob. He is saying that all of us live with something, some pain, something that isolates us to a degree, something we hate ourselves for. I think he is saying that the next guy’s heartache is the same as mine. Indeed, the next guy’s heartache is MY heartache, if only I will realize it.
If you have stuck with me this far, thank you. The point I am getting to involves my new approach to living, to following Jesus. In my former life, without ever realizing it, I denied the black line that was drawn on me. Because I am a Christian, because I am not a sex offender, or a homeless guy, or any of a thousand other things, because I am a gainfully employed, responsible citizen, I was separate from the part of humanity that lives in misery and degradation. Now I know that we are all connected by our humanity, no matter what our circumstances, or what we are guilty of.
My friend’s crime and subsequent conviction has affected me in profound ways. I think about him almost ever day. I have been at a loss as to what, if anything, I should do about it. Should I reach out to him? At times, I have hated him for what he did. However, having known him for so long, I have some insight into the pain that drove him. I don’t excuse his actions, but I think that, seeing his pain, I can understand somewhat.
Understanding can be a beginning. When Walter understood Robin’s pain, it brought the beginning of a change in him. As Donna says, when we SEE someone, or understand them, we aren’t as likely to isolate ourselves from them.
I’m with Jakob Dylan. The same black line that was drawn on you was drawn on me.
And now I realized that the name of the song is 6th Avenue Heartache, not The Same Black Line.
ReplyDeleteCompelling, Steve. Thanks for sharing this. I believe I know your friend and I've been struggling with how to deal with this too. Perhaps its time I wrote him a letter.
ReplyDelete