blogging


Rob asked me last night, “So what do you think about the Polanski thing.”

And I told him … for about 15 passionately animated minutes before he could get a word slid in edgewise.

It’s stunning, isn’t it? The way people have conveniently glossed over the reason the man is being held by Swiss authorities. Roman Polanski had been a convicted fugitive for over thirty years. He skipped out on his sentencing after admitting fault in having sex with a 13-year-old girl because he feared his sweetheart sentencing deal wasn’t going to work out as his lawyers had led him to believe it would. So at 44 years of age, he scurried off to the safety of France – a country that cannot extradite its own citizens – and has carried on with his career and penchant for much younger woman (though none as young as 13 again – apparently he learned that lesson), collecting awards and accolades and making lots of money. His victim, on the other hand, had to endure the regular media feeding frenzy whenever the case surfaced, enduring – among other things – the curious man made “Lolita” idea. You know that one. The patently absurd notion that little girls seductively entice old men into molesting them.

I don’t understand the sympathy Polanski evokes. Okay, maybe I can see where it comes from. People feel sorry for him because his mother was killed by Nazi’s and his pregnant wife was murdered by Manson followers, but Michael Jackson was beaten regularly by his dad, and we don’t seem to think it was okay for him to diddle little boys (and officially – Jackson was never found guilty in a court of law. Polanski has never denied doing a 13 year girl.) But in our twisted society, it’s okay for older men to force themselves on young teen and pre-teen girls under the pretext that the girls gave consent (something Polanski’s victim still maintains she never did).

I taught middle school for seventeen years. 13 year olds mostly. And let me assure you, they are not the tiniest bit interested in men old enough to be their fathers, nor are they worldly enough or smart enough to give actual consent. Teenagers have not changed since you and I were just 13. They may have access to technology that we didn’t but they are not wiser. They are still too trusting and very impulsive. They are not as worldly as they like to think they are (any more than we were). But wait a minute. I am talking about the teens that we were. Because Polanski’s victim is 45 years old today and is the peer of many of the people who read here. She and I were 13 years old in 1977.

Polanski committed a crime. Whether he was or wasn’t going to get a sweet plea deal is beside the point. He ran. He forfeited his rights to be treated as anything other than a convicted criminal trying to evade punishment. Letting him go now because the crime is so old and he’s been free so long is just another example of how inequitable our judicial system is. Rich, famous, well-connected people live under one set of rules and the average person goes to jail or are executed despite being innocent like that father in Texas.

Roman Polanski is a child rapist. He is not a victim. He has not been punished in any way by his years on the run. He is not being unfairly targeted. He does not deserve to be set free simply because his crime is three decades old. By that logic decrepit and senile old men who were forced to serve as guards in Nazi concentration camps should be left to their golden years in whatever country they lied their way into after the war because the Holocaust was twice as long ago as Polanski’s raping of a little girl.

Not sure which was my favorite part. The “it wasn’t rape… rape”, the insinuation that Europeans are cool with the idea of 13 and 14-year-old girls being molested by old men or the way it ended with blaming the mother. It certainly hit all the stereo-typing associated with sexual abuse – it’s victims and perpetrators.


We are heading to the States at the end of the week. We aren’t packed. Important travel documents are still in a safe somewhere and both Dee and I are on the leading edge of some kind of sinus thing. Which means everything is normal. I don’t think I have ever traveled where it wasn’t “that time of the month” or I wasn’t battling a bug/sinus infection. They are practically prerequisites.

So, in anticipation of travel I have been baking.

Yeah, that seems somewhat counterproductive to me too and yet I bake on. Two batches of raisin scones, 4 loaves of zucchini bread, 4 loaves of pumpkin bread (two with raisins), three loaves of carrot bread and there was banana bread last week. Part of the reason is that I still have zucchini in the freezer from last fall, and Rob picked another box full of the mutant things this weekend. I have already decided that I will not be blanching and freezing this fall. It’s easier to shred it and bake it. The carrots came from our garden too. If I could bake the spaghetti squash into some freezable, I would, but we are just going to have to eat squash – a lot – after we get back.

I had the morbid thought that perhaps I was nesting with all this baking – no not for a baby – but in case of some disaster that was about to befall us. But what kind of horror calls for baked goods?

Rob brought up the suitcases this evening and the packing nightmare is underway. The sadists at the airlines have changed carry-on rules in addition to adding a baggage fee for all checked luggage. Given the iffyness of fall weather in Iowa, I am monitoring the weather and plotting for maximum efficiency.

“Make sure you pack enough underwear for Dee,” Rob reminded me. “You never pack enough for her. I couldn’t figure out why until I realized it’s because you hardly ever wear it yourself and it probably just doesn’t occur to you that you are shorting the poor kid.”

Nice.

Underwear is already accounted for and secured, but not much else.

Have I mentioned that I am not a good or pleasant traveler? Especially internationally? Doesn’t bode well for our future as nomads, does it?


I don’t receive awards or nominations or anything much by way of bloggy recognition. Not weeping or whining, just stating the facts. But last week I was honored for, of all things, the political rants I bore most of my readers with on a too regular basis. It seems that someone out in the world wide ‘sphere appreciates my obsession with windmill tilting.

guthrieaward

The only stipulation was to pass it on and link back, so here goes …

1) My husband Rob at Tome of the Unknown Blogger, and no, it’s not just because he is the best husband in the world. Spend a bit of time in his archives and you will uncover an exceptionally thoughtful and intelligent man.

2) Sharon of One Woman’s Life in Maine deserves a nod as well. To my way of thinking, she has insight to spare and isn’t afraid to share her searching and journeying.

3) Lora is relatively new to my blog reader and when I see she has posted at Fever, I leave her to last because I know I am going to need time to read and digest.

Technically the award is given to five bloggers, but I have only three to offer today.

Thank you again, Archie. I appreciate the honor.