Unpaid markers, naive mothers, and model trains

How many times have you heard it, the ubiquitous move to avoid any accountability for ones own actions. Pick anyone from the most perverted killer, to the repeat drunk driver, the slimiest pedophile to the small time shoplifter, over and over, in court, standing before the bench, the lawyer for the defense will pull, the "bad childhood" card. It's not an unpopular theory among mental health professionals. the thought is that when horrific things happen to the young, it predisposes them to a variety of problems. Prisons are full of former abused, molested, and neglected children. Here is the story of one.



A young boy, seven years old, an absentee father due to divorce and an over the road job, no immediate male role models. A newly divorced mother, with two other children besides the boy. She works two jobs, neither receiving or asking for help, doing her best. It's 1966, a different time, a supposed safer era than today. The mother , born and raised in a small Oklahoma town, now on her own in the largest city she has ever set foot in. She worries most about the oldest boy, his lack of a male influence. But luck is on her side. A neighbor, two doors down, introduces himself one day, he takes an interest in the boy, offers to take him to church with him, spend time with him, mentor him. The woman is so thankful for the appearance of this friendly stranger, that she never questions the mans interest, it was different back then, not like today, at least not on the surface. The boy is infatuated with the mans extensive train collection. The man lives alone, unchecked and unencumbered by interruption or fear of exposure, of being found out.

The trips to church, the time spent playing with the train collection, lead to something dark, foreign, beyond the understanding of the naive trusting woman and the innocent 7 year old. Eventually the boy refuses to go to church, or to the mans house to be mentored. The man goes on to the next fatherless child in the neighborhood, the woman continues to do her best, and the boy begins a long path down the wrong road. Jump forward to the early 80's, the boy, now a man, stands in the shadows late one night, staring across the street at the mans house. He still lives there, older, no longer as imposing, just an old bent man, living alone. The old man never realized how close he came on that particular night. He was oblivious to the boys ill intent. The old man came within minutes of having his markers called in, his ticket punched, snuffed out like a candle. For reasons the boy couldn't explain, still can't, he gave the old man a pass, he let him live.

to be continued tomorrow.............................................