Editor's Notebook
Opinion
Don't Blame The Ninjas,
Take A Look At Yourselves
Where Are You
Now, Bobby Justice?
PHIL JACOBS ED TOR
ELIZABETH APPLEBAUM ASSOCIATE EDITOR
My father used to
make fun of
Frank, one of my
childhood friends.
This was in
1960.
Seems
Frank's parents
would not allow
him to watch the
television show,
"Lassie." There were scenes of
Lassie rescuing Timmy that
made Frank, then 7, uneasy.
"Yeah, there was one scene
where Lassie bit hard into a
steak," I remember my dad say-
ing. 'Wouldn't want Frank to lose
sleep over that."
We took a trip to a surplus
store when I was about 8. Bought
a gen-u-ine army helmet, some
medals, a canteen and even some
hollowed-out machine gun bul-
lets. Had a plastic machine gun
with bolt action, shoulder holster
with toy .32 snub nose and even
a long "rifle" and a place to fix my
rubber knife.
boots, though.
Now, as adults, all of us prob-
ably get cardiac arrest that our
children are exposed to the Pow-
er Rangers or the Turtles or oth-
er violence. Many of us look
judgmentally at our friends,
whether we admit it or not, when
we see toy guns in their homes.
Or we wonder`with such concern
when our "gun-free" children turn
a Tinker-thy into something that
looks like a gun and "shoot" a lit-
tle sister.
No, I haven't read any of the
studies that probably will show
that children are more prone to
anger or violence after
watching one of these
TV shows. I know we 0
even have an
article in this
week's paper ct
on the Work- \
men's
a
ct,
•
I wish we were this careful
with our children's Jewish up-
bringing. How come we restrict
them from the Power Rangers,
but we also seem to unwittingly
keep Shabbat from them? They
might not know about a killer of
a TV show, but they also don't
know about lighting candles. We
keep them from toy guns, yet we
put others down, lie and speak
loshan hora (evil tongue) about
others. We even speak it in front
of our children.
Gossip can be more deadly
than a Ninja Turtle.
See, if we teach our children
the beautiful side of
Judaism — the warmth,
4' the caring, acts of kind-
ness, the Torah — we won't
have to worry
about a toy
gun influ-
encing their
lives forever.
They'll have what
it takes to make de-
cisions in their lives,
and they'll also know
that playing
a
a *
Wiaimara,
-
Our friends used to play a Circle school banning the Turtles
home game we called "strategy." and Rangers.
It meant building a fort in some-
Folks, I'm not getting on a
one's backyard out of branches. soapbox here. You do what you
Nirvana was an empty washing need to do for your children, and
machine carton for a hideout. you do know best. I don't think a
We'd belly across our neighbors' lunchbox picture of Raphael the
lawns, spying through the back turtle is going to make your child
doors of the lady down the street. more prone to anything. Parents
"Quick, Mrs. Goldstone is in need to control the amount of
there. She's behind the refriger-
ator door. Wait, is that the dish-
washer she's opening?"
Children turn
Sometimes a friend would get
a walkie-talkie for a birthday,
Tinker-toys
and we'd be in total communica-
into guns.
tion. Sometimes we'd get "shot
and die" on the "battlefield." But
usually that happened before our
moms called us in for dinner. We
did get in trouble once for start- television, be it Power Rangers
ing a "campfire" in our wooden or anything else that their chil-
fort. A city motorcycle policeman dren watch. That's up to the par-
pulled over in our alley, grabbed ents to decide, though. Hopefully,
me and a friend named Roger parents are advising their chil-
and took us to see my mother. Af- dren that the television guns, the
ter the officer winked at her:, martial arts superheroes are fan-
talked about reform school, and tasy, make-believe. It's not the
after we stopped howling in tears, same sort of make-believe as
he left. I still remember that "Sesame Street," but its still pre-
white helmet and those black tend.
"strategy" might be fun — but it's
really only a game.
Even if some of us aren't ready
to light candles or take even a
minimal spiritual plunge, if mom
and dad know right from wrong
and live their lives that way, then
children can dress up as the pink
ranger and it's not going to hurt
them.
Family foundation, Jewish
foundation, that's what we
should be working on. It's not a
matter of television or comic book
foundation.
Get a tzedakah canister and
have your children see you put
money in it each day. Get new
mezuzahs placed on the door-
ways. Make a Jewish home.
Goodness knows what our chil-
dren's children will be getting
into. But our children will use the
behavior and attitudes of their
parents as a base for their own
parenting skills. A Power Ranger
shouldn't be such a threat.
Frank, by the way, was deco-
rated for service in Vietnam.
Must have been all those Lassie
episodes he missed. ❑
Like just about
everybody else I
know, I thought
life as a teen-
ager was hell.
I was con-
vinced I was
hideous. I couldn't
find a niche. My
parents didn't un-
derstand me. I didn't see why I
had to go to school when all I
wanted to do was grow up and be
a famous rock drummer.
To complicate matters, my
father was in the Air Force. We
were constantly moving from
base to base, city to city. I went
to one school for 7th grade, an-
other for 8th, another for 9th
and yet another for 10th.
I did spend two successive
years, 11th and 12th grades, at
Hickman High in Columbia,
Mo., but the mascot there was
the kewpie. It still gives me
chills just thinking about how,
in public, I would join in a stir-
ring rendition of our school song
which actually included the
line, "kewpies are on the
march."
I spent one of those forma-
tive teen years, 9th grade, at
John Jay High School in San
Antonio, Texas, where two
memorable things occurred in
my life.
The first was when Arab ter-
rorists murdered Israeli ath-
letes at the Olympics in
Munich. A Jewish student,
whom I never knew, wore a
black arm band. As soon as I
heard about it, I donned one,
too. I felt I had accomplished
something that way, however
tiny a protest.
The other memorable event
was meeting Bobby Justice.
Now rm not going to say that
Bobby Justice was the most
popular guy in the school, but
he definitely was in that cate-
gory of Someone, while I most
certainly was not. He was
clever, too, and there was no
end of girls who thought Bobby
Justice (for reasons unknown,
he always was referred to by
both names) was ooh-la-la.
"He's a doll," said my friend
Donna, who rearranged her
bedroom furniture every week
because "I get bored."
Somehow, I managed to get
to know Bobby Justice's best
friend (I think we may have sat
next to each other in study
hall). I don't remember his
name, but I'm sure it was he
who introduced me to Bobby
Justice in what inevitably was
one of those awkward teen mo-
ments: "Oh, hi." "Yeah, hi."
After that, though, Bobby
Justice always would say "hel-
lo" to me in the halls — despite
the fact that I was, and re-
mained throughout my entire
high school career, a Nobody.
He stopped to chat some-
times, too. He asked how I was
doing in a certain class and
what else I was up to. Nothing
too profound, and at first glance
not memorable.
At the end of 9th grade, my
family moved to Mississippi.
Bobby stayed in Texas. We nev-
er wrote or called. I don't even
know where he is today.
But I never forgot how he
was kind to me. And I continue
to appreciate it to this day, be-
cause while Bobby's behavior
may sound simply like basic
good manners, it certainly
wasn't typical of other boys I
knew in high school or even of
many adults I meet today. Let's
face it: in the real world, just
like in high school, Really Im-
portant People seem to have no
obligation to extend common
courtesy to the rest of us peons.
Oh, they may say hello, all
right, but are we surprised if
they don't?
There are few opportunities
in life when any of us will be
put to a tremendous test. We're
not going to know if we would
have acted in the manner of
Anne Frank, or whether we
would have shown the re-
markable courage of Raoul
Wallenberg.
But we do face daily chal-
. ic human decency.
lenges of bas
Are we going to yell at our
children when they spill sug-
ar everywhere or will we say,
"It's all right. It's only sugar."
Will we go to the store, de-
spite the fact that it's snowing,
and buy a get-well card for a
sick aunt, or will we say, "She'll
never miss it," and stay at
home.
Will we take the time to wel-
come a new neighbor, or just
stick with the same, comfort-
able old gang.
Will we help a colleague and
congratulate him on a job well
done, or will we discount his
work and instead engage in
self-promotion? ("John's project
would never have been as good
if I hadn't helped him out.")
Kindness, the Talmud teach-
es, is the highest form of wis-
dom.
Twenty years ago, a boy
named Bobby Justice was kind
to me. I have forgotten much
that has passed since then: ad-
dresses of places I lived, teach-
ers' names, recorded songs I
had to have or I would most cer-
tainly die, history lessons, what
I got for a birthday, grades I re-
ceived on major projects and
lectures my parents delivered.
I have not forgotten Bobby's
kindness. ❑