Leap Day

It was on this day about 20 years ago that my sister Sheila married a monster. He's now in prison, convicted of sexually molesting children. If I had my way, he would never, ever get out of prison, but I know the day will come when he will return to his slimy predatory ways. I don't think of him often, but when I do, the urge to shower in boiling bleach overcomes me. Just the thought of him makes me feel dirty and sick. People like this man should never be returned to the free world. I heard yesterday or the day before that one person in 100 is in prison in this country, and the pundits were bemoaning such high numbers. But the person who would let Jim out of prison would be a fool. Even if it meant keeping a dozen innocent people in jail, if it kept Jim in jail, I'd say it was worth it. People who have never been affected by a child molester just don't know how it affects families, victims, neighborhoods, towns--for a lifetime and longer.

Tomorrow is my niece's birthday. She was one of Jim's victims. I used to watch, furious, helpless, and frustrated, as he grabbed at her when she passed, as he cast sly sexual looks at her, whispered to her, watched her dodge him, the look on her face like a whipped puppy. We would tell Sheila what was happening, but she refused to believe us. Finally, when Jim's attention strayed outside the family, and others brought him to justice, Sheila admitted that she'd been deliberately blind. I can't say that I would do differently in her shoes. It is still too hard for a woman alone to raise children, and the desperate need for companionship, to be loved and wanted, burns in all of us. But I hope I would do differently. I know my own weaknesses far too well to believe that I would have instantly turned into the sword of vengeance, happy to excise a cancer from my own life if it would save my children. But I think I would have. Married to one of the world's kindest, most moral people, I have not had to face what Sheila faced. So I can't just blame her and say she should have known, should have stopped it, should have thrown the bum out. Even after the shit hit the fan, Jim's family still swore he was innocent, that he was framed, and they blamed Sheila. It didn't even sink in to them when not only my niece, but also my nephew, testified to Jim's sexual abuse.

So Leap Day means something kind of aberrant to me. I can't enjoy the jokes about people who are "only" 8 years old, or who have been married "only" 6 years, and so on. If only the sentence given to Jim could be in leap years, so that instead of 25 years, he'd actually be serving 100!

We awoke to heavy snow this morning. Forecasters predict that we will easily surpass the 100-inch mark for the season, and one of them even predicts that the first half of March will be nearly nonstop snow showers. Our street hasn't been clear in so long that I've forgotten what color it is. Not that it matters. Everything is white, gray, or brown. Driving the other day, I noticed an overpass was painted in pale blue. It seemed almost shockingly colorful compared to the rest of the landscape. In summer, that same overpass will look gray and drab in contrast to the green foliage and brilliant blue skies.

On Tuesday I think I saw the fourth candidate for the position I'm in consideration for. If I'm correct, she was a thirty-something black woman. We have no minority people in the department, so it would not surprise me for the search committee to feel compelled to hire her, just to achieve some degree of diversity. I couldn't blame them, even though I've argued that diversity isn't just about race. The second someone says "diversity," I think most minds immediately think about race, especially African-American. On one hand, I am a big supporter of affirmative action. Clearly, we have not achieved a level playing field for most minority people. One of my students, a lovely young black woman, has spoken about how badly she's treated by her all-white co-workers, how they talk down to her and treat her as if she were mentally deficient. She's anything but deficient. On the other hand, selfishly, I want this job to be mine. I want to be the bride, not the bridesmaid. I don't want to settle for also-ran. I'm getting too damned old to wait my turn in line. I want to be at the head of the line, not constantly getting pushed back to let someone else ostensibly "more deserving" get the gold. It's been one week since my interview. If the department chair's prediction is correct, I have two more weeks to wait for the verdict.

March will come in like a lion this year, I predict. A frozen, miserable, whining, grumbling lion with a severe case of cabin fever. And the way it's going, the same lion--just a month older--will lead us out of March into April. April is the cruellest month.... Dr. S.