Justice: Just a Perspective?

David Whitley of FOX Sports wrote an interesting opinion piece about the announcement by Florida State Attorney Willie Meggs that Jameis Winston--quarterback of the top ranked Flordia State University football team hoping to play for the national championship, leading Heisman Trophy candidate, and future millionaire National Football League player—would not be charged with sexual assault.  This freed up Winston to continue his football playing through the Atlantic Coast Conference championship and possible national championship games.  Whitley stated that he wasn’t sure that “justice” had been served, and that it all depended upon individual perspectives of the whole sordid affair.  Whitley quoted the state attorney, when asked that question (more or less), as saying: “The folks want to look for conclusions.  They’ll have to draw their own.”  Never, in the opinion piece, does Whitley offer an answer as to whether or not justice was served . . . he pretty much avoids answering the question.

Instead, Whitley, basically states that it all depends upon where the individual’s loyalties are . . . if you are a big Florida State Seminole fan, then justice was served, Winston was falsely accused, and everything is back on track towards the Heisman and national championship.  If you are a person who believed the woman and should have her day in court . . . then this all screams of favoritism in a football town, bumbling law enforcement, and a general circus atmosphere where illusions rule the day while the facts will never be heard.  Or, if you are a person who is totally confused as to what you believe . . . well, the whole situation still remains as clear as mud.  As Whitley states, it is all a matter of perspective.

For several years, I worked on a federal grant in the state of Montana that dealt with domestic and sexual violence . . . in particular as it affected women, children, and families.  True, not all domestic violence happens to women—men are also the victims of domestic violence, but the overwhelming majority of domestic violence cases happen to women.  Happens all of the time.  Rape falls under this umbrella of domestic and sexual violence . . . at a rate of 1.3 rapes a minute in the United States according to the federal government.  What I learned and heard in those two years influenced my perspective on the issue . . . and, from that perspective I can honestly say that “justice” was not served in this situation . . . in fact, it never had its day in court.

Earlier in the week, I was not surprised upon learning that the state attorney for Florida was going to have a press conference to announce what his office was going to do with the Winston case . . . at that very moment I knew that Winston was not going to be charged.  If the man was going to be charged, the authorities would have gone and arrested him in as quietly of a manner as they could of—sans all of the publicity.  Nope, that was not going to happen . . . Winston was going to walk free of the accusations.  I saw no reason to even watch the big press conference . . . “justice” wasn’t going to get its fair chance.

When it comes to sexual assault—especially rape—that justice is served . . . at least for the person who has been assaulted or raped.  I stand in awe of what I am witnessing when it comes to these cases and trials as victims are attacked, raked over the coals, and made to be the “bad guys” as their attackers sit there and watch.  Isn’t that what happened when a Billings judge sentenced a guilty teacher to a little over a month in jail for raping one of his students . . . didn’t the judge make references to the fact that he thought the 14 year old looked and acted much older than her actual age . . . that this played a role in the teacher’s actions?  Unfortunately or fortunately, the 14 year old avoid this smear having committed suicide before the case ever came up for trial.  Was she a victim?  Yeah, I think so. Was “justice” served in this case?  No, and now the state of Montana is scrambling like crazy to fix the situation and sentence the teacher to a minimum of four years for the rape of this 14 year old . . . unfortunately, the girl will never know . . . she’s dead.

The accuser of Winston was put on trial before the investigation was even started . . . before it even got a shot at being tried in court. She was attacked, bullied, dragged through the mud, and warned . . . warned by one of the Tallahassee police officers that she might reconsider pressing for rape charges as “Tallahassee is a big football town” and the person she was accusing was the star player.  But, she pressed on despite the smear campaign against her.  The young woman reported the rape the night it happened. This means that she probably went through all of the steps . . . telling her story to the police (in her case, not once, but twice—once to the campus police who referred her to the Tallahassee police because the incident took place off-campus and she had to tell the story a second time) . . . going to the hospital to undergo a procedure using a “rape kit” and having to tell the story for a third time . . . in fact, she probably ended up telling the story of what happened more times than any of us could count.  And, each time she told the story, she had to relive the trauma of it all.  Physical evidence was found proving that Winston was the one who she said raped her.  She stuck by her story . . . even after Winston stated that it was consensual sex . . . she called it rape.

It became a big “he said/she said” debate.  He proclaimed innocence, she claimed rape.  Lines were drawn in the sand, sides were taken . . . and, in the end, some would say that it was a tie when it was all said and done.  I am not too sure about that.  In the end the young woman had to drop out of school because the scrutiny was too much for her.  Her reputation was dragged through the muck of public opinion, a reputation that will never leave her.  She has been traumatized over and over again with the nightmare of something that she did not want to happen.  She believes what happened to her will make others not want to report rape.  She was rightly termed the “victim” in this case.  I don’t think she felt like it was a tie . . . or anything close to a tie.  I think she would say that she got stomped . . . unfairly stomped in what she believed would be a “just” system and process.

Neither do I think that the individual she accused feels as if it were a tie.  He did not have to drop out of school, sit out a football game, give up his pursuit of a national championship, give up his pursuit of a Heisman trophy, or a future big-time paycheck in the National Football League.  His name was not dragged through the mud and muck . . . far from it.  Instead we witnessed the attack against the victim . . . the lame excuse that “boys will be boys” . . . and, that he has such a bright future ahead.  He lawyer stated that it would be difficult for him to clean up his reputation . . . who is he kidding!  I do not see Jameis Winston hiding from the public eyes.  I think he would tell all of us . . . he won.

In this whole mess, Jameis Winston is probably the only winner.  Everyone else lost.  The victim lost.  The public lost.  And, the biggest loser of all . . . “justice”.  Remember that Florida’s state attorney did not say that nothing happened . . . he just stated that in his opinion—according to what the state using as a measurement for such cases—that this case would have been too difficult to try and win.  In other words, something happened and it is up to everyone to form his or her own opinion.  I say that the matter should have been given its day in court . . . that “justice” be given an opportunity to settle things once and for all.  To level the playing field and see what happens.  That is all that anyone who plays a sport wants . . . a level playing field and an opportunity to play the game.  That is all that any of us wants . . . a level playing field to share our stories and allow the chips to fall where they may.  “Justice” did not get a fair deal . . . and, probably never will.

I think that is what upset me the most by Whitley’s opinion piece . . . he chickened out . . . he didn’t take a stand . . . he didn’t stand up for “justice”.   I don’t know if the story of victim is true or not . . . I don’t know whether or not Winston is telling the truth . . . but, I think that if both of them believe that they are telling the truth, let “justice” settle the issue.  But, I forget . . . opinions are opinions, not facts . . . at least that is my opinion.  In the court of opinion, no one wins.  I say, give “justice” a chance.  What we do in our society to victims of sexual assault, rape, and domestic violence is a bigger crime than the actual crime itself . . . we deny them their humanness . . . and, we deny them “justice”.

Was “justice” served?  You tell me.

Zecoldephobia

Like Spiderman, my “senses” began to tingle over the weekend . . . something was up . . . something bad.  Now I consider myself to be a fairly average person . . . at least as normal as most of the standards put out by the American Psychological Association’s Diagnostic and Statistical Manual 5; but, something was up . . . and it was driving my super-human senses crazy.  I could feel that whatever was going to happen was going to be bad.

For several days, over the weekend, I read with fascination the National Weather Service’s webpage as warnings were starting to be issued for an impending storm and arctic front were to hit our area come late Monday afternoon.  The prognosticators couldn’t make up their minds . . . first we were supposed to get between four and six inches between Monday night and Wednesday afternoon, but be very, very cold . . . then it was changed to about an inch a day and very, very cold . . . then it was pretty much thrown out the window as none of them even came close to the reality.  Back and forth they toyed with my emotions and senses.  In the end, my worst fears were realized . . . nearly a foot of snow, ice, and really, really cold (frigid) temperatures.

Zecoldephobia is not a real word.  It doesn’t exist in any dictionary and probably can only be found in one place on the Internet—on the website Move That Body which is written by some anonymous writer about exercise.  It was that unknown author who coined the word Zecoldephobia to describe the fear of winter.  Surprisingly there is no such phobia in existence despite the fact that nearly a quarter of a million people in the United States of America claim to have this fear.  Shoot, there are phobias for everything and anything, but not the fear of winter.  That is a shame because upon discovering the word, I thought I had come to the root of my super-human senses that only seem to appear at this time of year. 

Actually, I like winter.  What I don’t like is the snow and ice that accompany winter.  For that there are actual phobias.  Chionophobia is the fear of snow.  Pagophobia is the fear of ice and frost.  We got plenty of both . . . snow and ice . . . and, lots of cold.  Our temperatures for the next week are going to drop like a lead balloon with a high predicted by Saturday of a minus five degrees.  Also, with such frigid temperatures, nothing melts . . . nothing!  So, all of that snow and ice is going to stick around for a while making driving a real pain in the rear.  It has been a real joy commuting back and forth between the homestead and the big city . . . see Montana at an average speed of 35 miles an hour!  Snow and ice seems to have that effect on drivers.  Over the weekend it was Chionophobia and Pagophobia—not my super-human senses—that were at play with my mind and body.

So, here it is . . . three days into the semi-predicted mess called winter.  We got a heck of a lot more snow than the couple of inches the weather people were predicting—in fact, we shattered ancient weather records with the snow and ice.  Snow is piled up everywhere . . . including on the roads, where it seems that most counties and state entities believe that solar snow removal is the best and cheapest method of removing snow and ice.  It is cold . . . temperatures are dropping as I write this . . . dropping to unmentionable depths that are not supposed to show up until late January and early February.  Winter came knocking . . . early as usual . . . and, it is scary.  If this is the start of what is to come, what is the future going to look (more aptly, feel) like?  My mythic Zecoldephobia (bolstered by my Chionophobia and Pagophobia) is going crazy.

I can’t sleep . . . I shake whenever I am standing outside . . . I speak incoherently as my teeth chatter . . . my thinking gets incoherent . . . I refuse to go anywhere considered unsafe if it involves driving . . . all I see is white . . . Zecoldephobia!  Of course, before I discovered this descriptive word, I used to think that those were normal reactions to winter . . . especially when it snows uncontrollably like it did this week.  Fortunately, I am not the only person inflicted with this or any winter related phobias . . . there are lots of us.  Some are just smart and head south to warmer climates . . . places like Arizona or Florida where old people turn a roasted brown.  But, that is just another fear I have . . . I’ll save that for some other future rant.

Whatever anyone wants to call it . . . it doesn’t matter . . . it is real.  Winter has come, it is going to stick around for a while, and I have a real aversion to having to travel in this stuff.  I think that is my biggest fear . . . it is not the weather . . . it is not the snow . . . it is not the ice; it is having to drive in it.  And, I really don’t mind driving in it either, it is just having to drive in it with other drivers . . . idiot drivers who seem oblivious to the dangers of driving on snow and ice.  Like the guy who was weaving in and out of the cars on snowy and icy road in the big city, with one hand on the wheel and the cell phone to his ear, going fifty miles an hour while everyone else was respecting the conditions and other drivers and driving a safe twenty-five miles an hour.  The guy couldn’t even read my sign language when he zipped by, leaving me in a cloud of snow!  That is what I fear the most about winter . . . other drivers. 

I am thinking of petitioning the state to give me a special driving time before any other drivers can get on the road . . . I don’t think it is going to happen.  Last I heard, they never heard of the word Zecoldephobia . . . or Chionophobia . . . or Pagophobia.  They need to use the Internet a little more . . . everything on it is true . . . especially when it comes to defining my super-human senses that always seem to pop up at this time of year.  I am glad I have names to put with these senses . . . makes me feel normal.  Besides, I didn’t find anything about them in the DSM 5 . . . but, there is still time!  Rise up, Zecoldephobians . . . claim winter . . . it is going to be around for a while, so we might as well have some fun with it!  

Seeing Red . . . Husker Red

Seven point six million reasons why.

That is the reason that the University of Nebraska will not fire head football coach Bo Pelini this year.  That is the amount of money that it would take for the university to buy out Pelini’s remaining contract through the year 2017.  That is a lot of corn!

Like most rabid University of Nebraska Cornhusker football fans—and, I hate to admit this—the loss to the University of Iowa Hawkeyes to drop Big Red to an eight and four season, was cause enough in my corn-addled mind to fire Pelini.  It was bad enough to lose four games this year, but to lose to the Hawkeyes was almost an unpardonable sin.  Granted, the Hawkeyes are a good team . . . but, they’re Iowa!  Another corn growing state (and, for those people out there, they kick Nebraska’s butt at producing corn, too).  No one likes losing to their archrivals from across the river.  I am sure that this sounds like whining—and, it is—but, there are a lot of teams who would have seen an eight and four record as reason to celebrate (especially considering the age of the team and its uncharacteristic track record with injuries) . . . phttt!  Not a true Big Red fan though . . . this is close to blasphemy in Big Red Nation . . . especially to cap off the regular season with a loss to the Hawkeyes!

The gut reaction is to fire Pelini . . . but, 7.6 million dollars is a whole lot of money to spend to scratch an itch that probably won’t go away anytime soon.  Gut reactions are not always the best response to an issue . . . or perceived issue.  When seeing red, one does not always make the best decisions or choices.  Sometimes a person needs to step back, consider what is going on, and then make a decision.  Something the University of Nebraska is not always willing to do . . . shoot they fired Frank Solich when he was a coach after winning nine games and losing three!  They hired the flashy Bill Callahan to replace Solich, and then took a quick trip down the football toilet as he decimated the team and Big Red Nation.  This pattern is not unfamiliar in big time college football . . . but, the University of Nebraska is just not used to this pattern after having such a huge run of success at the top for so many—not years, but generations.  This supposed black spot on the Big Red reputation needs to be removed and removed now!  It hurts too much!  Cut it out now!  Fire Pelini and everything will be okay!  At least that seems to be the sentiment of many within Big Red Nation.

Again, 7.6 million seems like a big price to pay to get rid of a pain that is probably fleeting.  Remember, an eight and four record is a winning season that lots of schools would die for.  True, there is no Big Ten championship . . . there is no BCS bowl game . . . probably no New Year’s Day game . . . but, it is still a darn good record considering the season that the team and Pelini have been through.  We, within the Big Red Nation, need to shut-up and put up with a little pain . . . after all, these are the pains of growth if used right.

There are not a lot of coaches out there who would have wanted to put up with Pelini’s situation.  It seemed that player after player went down each week with injuries . . . the biggest of all was losing four-year starter at quarterback, Taylor Martinez, who set all sorts of school records on the field.  The offensive line, touted as one of the best at the start of the year, replaced almost all of the first and second teamers after racking up the injuries during games . . . I hear that Pelini even converted the ball boy to a left tackle position so that there would be some depth on the playing chart for game days.  Add to that the fact that a lot of players graduated from the team last year, and there were a lot of young, new players getting starting positions . . . and, getting injuries.  This was one of the youngest teams that Pelini has ever put on the field.  It was everything and anything that every coach goes to bed at night praying never materializes . . . Pelini lost the bet!  Lost it big time!  None of these issues are things that Pelini can control . . . poop happens.  Apparently lots of poop happened to the Cornhuskers this year.

In all honesty, this is about where I thought the Cornhuskers would end up this year at the end of the season.  In fact, they actually did better than my real self wants to admit . . . I saw them losing a couple of more games than they did.  But, that is the real me talking . . . the die-hard Big Red fan in me expected an undefeated season, a Big Ten Championship, and at a minimum a BCS bowl game if not the national championship shot.  Expect it every year . . . it is ingrained in Big Red fans.  In the heat of the moment, when I am seeing red, my gut reaction is to fire Pelini.  Fire him now!  It is a heck of a lot easier to fire the coach than to deal with the fact that with everything that was piled on this team . . . everything that this team went up against each week (including disgruntled fans) . . . that they were actually overachievers who had a pretty decent season.  Sure, it hurts not to reach unreachable expectations . . . sure, it hurts to lose to Iowa . . . but, the hurt will go away.

Husker Nation needs to get real.  Husker Nation needs to deal with its denial to do the one thing that it expects its football team to do . . . man up and own the reality that it was just not a great season to put into the annals of history, but it was not a terrible season.  Husker Nation needs to admit that this season was probably better than most of us expected in our moment of weakness prior to the season when we were being honest with the landscape of college football . . . when we were thinking we would be lucky to five football games.  Husker Nation needs to deal with the fact that unexpected things happen . . . players get hurt . . . balls bounce funny . . . and, young players make mistakes . . . that poop happens.  Husker Nation needs to realize that there are other things that matter more than football, and that the sun rises even the day after a big loss (even though it was pretty cloudy this morning after losing to Iowa).  Husker Nation needs to get real and acknowledge that it is not going to fork over 7.6 million dollars to a coach that it would love to fire . . . admit that even the most rabid Husker football fan is not going to fork over a couple of bucks to help offset the university’s expense if they do fire Pelini and take a 7.6 million dollar hit . . . that they are not going to “put up or shut up”.  Yeah, it hurts right now, but time heals everything including growth pains.

I do not like Pelini, but I also can think of 7.6 million reasons why he shouldn’t be fired.  I also think that when someone has a run of bad luck, that he or she should get a second chance . . . Pelini deserves a second chance (or is this the seventh or eighth chance?).  The fact is, no one from the university comes knocking on my door asking me for advice on how to coach or run a big-time college football program.  Sure, I see red . . . but, it is Husker Red.  I will moan and groan, but I still keep coming back no matter what the record of my beloved Huskers might be.  I imagine somewhere down the line that will become the classic definition of “crazy” . . . doing the same thing over and over again expecting different results . . . yep, that is Cornhusker football at its best!

Giving Thanks?

In a couple of days there will be a gathering in our home to celebrate a day of giving thanks . . . Thanksgiving.  Around the table will be most of the family . . . the granddaughter . . . some of the children’s in-laws and their family . . . and, the two Dachshunds.  The table will be spread with the full compliment of food befitting a Thanksgiving dinner.  There will be a turkey, mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, stuffing, green bean casserole, cranberries and cranberry sauce, gravy, rolls, cornbread casserole . . . the whole nine-yards.  Plus it will be almost one hundred percent organic because it is good for our health, though my wallet would say that it isn’t help it much.  We will pause, join hands, and give thanks . . . and, with the “Amen” all hell will break loose.

As an introvert, crowds bother me . . . especially crowds that gather in my domain.  I like people, but not all at once.  But, this is an annual expectation from the female side of the family, and one that I must endure.  Now, do not get me wrong.  I love my family.  I love my children’s in-laws, they are practically full-fledged family—they are good people.  I love the feast.  I even love the two Dachshunds who will be hanging out by the granddaughter who hasn’t quite mastered the art of keeping her food on the plate yet.  It is just that I do not always want them all in my life at one time.  Because of that, the wife has given me ample time to prepare myself for the big day.

Part of that preparation has to do with what happens after the “Amen”.  Of course there will be the usual mauling of the turkey and all of the trimmings.  It will be the usual feast of stuffing the participants.  I can handle that . . . it is all of the stuff around the feast that I need to get a handle on . . . stuff like having to talk to one another . . . having a conversation.  I am not always great at conversation . . .

A couple of years ago, the big Thanksgiving feast took place at our daughter’s in-laws.  There were the two families, including the grandparents on her husband’s side of the family.  Our son-in-law’s grandfather is a graduate of the University of Montana in Missoula.  This makes him a great big Griz fan.  Me, well, I never grew up in Montana and thus I have no allegiance to either of the football powers in Montana . . . I don’t care to be a Griz or a Bobcat fan when it comes to football . . . I am a diehard Cornhusker fan.  Little did I realize how seriously they take their Grizzly football among the alumni. 

Taking advantage in the lull of conversation at the table I ask the son-in-law’s grandfather—the Griz fan, if he had seen the prediction for the Grizzly football season in the newspaper.  He replied no.  I said, “Nine and two . . . nine acquittals and two convictions.”  Of course that was the year that the Grizzly football team was getting into a lot of trouble with the law in Missoula.  Needless to say, Grandpa did not appreciate the joke.  Haven’t seen him at a family Thanksgiving since.  Do you see what I am trying to say?  Do you understand why I need time to prepare for these big gatherings?

I found an article about eight things that you should never say at a Thanksgiving dinner.  Those eight things are:

--“Well somebody likes the stuffing.”  I am not a stuffing person.  The wife is making the stuffing this year.  I live with the wife.  I will cram the stuffing down no matter how much I dislike it.  Thank goodness for gravy . . . gravy makes anything edible.  But, I will not be the one saying anything about any of the food on the table.  I like sleeping in my bed.

--“Do you know what they do to the turkey before it’s slaughtered?”  Well, since our turkey is organic, I imagine that it died of old age.  Most folks do not care where their food comes from . . . they just want to eat it.  As far as I know, there are no PETA carrying card members gathering around our table . . . it just has to be organic.  Our turkey is full of peace, love, and harmony.

--“Can you pass the yams, and I’m dropping out of law school.”  Yams . . . sweet potatoes . . . not coming from my lips.  I don’t like either of them.  Nor will I announce that I am dropping out of law school.  I don’t think that is the actual point behind this statement . . . the point is that one should not announce earth-moving announcements at the Thanksgiving table.  It kind of puts a damper on the festivities . . . besides, we would never allow a lawyer to the table.  Yeah, I know, we claim to be Christians, but we do have to draw the line somewhere.

--“Are you sure you need another glass of wine?”  Don’t even ask.  Yes, I need another glass of wine . . . I am an introvert and self-medicating might be the only way I make it. 

--“I’m thankful that after Tom’s affair, he and I were able to work through our issues and move forward.”  Well, good for her and Tom . . . more power to them . . . whoever they are.  Again, another bombshell dropped on the table.  Apparently bombshells are not acceptable at the Thanksgiving table . . . even acquittals and convictions.    The past is the past and it is best to leave those moans and groans there.  Besides, there will be plenty of wine to go around from the bottle.

--“And I’m thankful that most of my kids were able to take time out of their busy schedules to spend Thanksgiving with their mother (father).  Even if you can only stay for one night.”  Hey, as an introvert . . . one night is good for me.  Actually, I am quite sad that not all of my children and their spouses could make it to the big deal.  I really miss the two of them.  I also am thankful for whoever can gather around the table . . . and, if that is only for a day or two, so be it.  We will make the most of it, but I won’t complain if they have to go home early.

--“Do you have any salt?”  Hey!  This is fair game at our table.  Ever since the wife went on a health kick to keep herself and me healthy, salt has disappeared in her cooking.  Asking for salt is not a statement about the food sucking.  Far from it . . . especially for those of us who grew up salting first and asking second.  The wife keeps a shaker by my plate . . . she is a good wife.

--“I really miss Grandma’s pumpkin pie.”  Well, I miss Grandma, but she can keep the pumpkin pie.  I don’t like pumpkin pie . . . in fact, I am not even a big dessert person.  Trust me, I won’t be saying anything about the pumpkin pie other than, “Ewwww!”  Besides, I can handle the scorn of being un-American and passing on the pumpkin pie.

As good as those were, I have a few more I would add:

--Politics.  I think you understand this one. 

--Religion.  Yes, the wife and I are ordained clergy, but we just want to enjoy the food, family, and fellowship without having a debate about whether Jesus walked on water or knew where all the rocks were in the lake.

--Future plans of the adult children.  This one usually pits the children against the parents . . . expectations never mesh up with reality.

--Work.  That is something I left at the office at 5:00PM on the Wednesday before Thanksgiving and there is a reason I left it there.

--Jokes about Grizzly football . . . or Nebraska football . . . or any football.

I think I will survive.  I usually do.  As I stated earlier, we will all gather at the table, join hands and give thanks . . . and, there is much to be thankful for.  For each individual gathered around our table, I am thankful that they are a part of my life.  For the food placed upon the table for the big feast, I am thankful that I have food to eat because there are many who cannot.  For the fellowship of the moment, there will be laughter, teasing, and great fun . . . I am thankful that I am not alone.  For the opportunity . . . even as an introvert . . . I am thankful.  Though I probably do not say it enough, I am thankful.  The little girl in the cartoon is right, we need to be thankful more than one day a year.  Hopefully we remember that as we give thanks.