Snitchin'

 

In my blue-collar hometown, in the early 1970s, we had neighbors named the Vs. Kathy and Kenny V. were siblings; Kathy was a year younger than me, and Kenny was about a year younger than his sister. Their mom was an extremely anxious person, always worried and afraid. She once watched her kids go down our swimming pool slide, having a great time, and let out a loud gasp. The dad, from what we gathered, was a strict "no fun is best" type of parent. These were not carefree types. 

I knew this. So it surprised me, at age 11 or 12, one day at the local park, to see Kathy run joyfully across the grass and throw herself into some guy's arms. That can't be right, I thought. This is because in some ways, my parents weren't too different from Mr. and Mrs. V. My dad, in particular. He was a bit of a drama-lover. His recipe for instilling the "right values" in me was to overreact and characterize normal adolescent foibles as a gateway to Federal prison. So when I saw Kathy's rendezvous with this unknown guy, I guess two things happened. First, I internalized the prohibition against such evils as dating, making-out, going-steady, trying a cigarette, and all the other terrible things those could lead to. I personally didn't have my first date until age 14, and my mom had to provide cover so my dad wouldn't find out how I was spending my Saturday, track me down and embarrass me for life. He would have, too. I think this self-policing stayed with me well into adulthood.

The other thing that happened was, I wanted to prove to my parents that I knew the difference between their definitions of right and wrong -- perhaps as a way of deflecting their ever-present judgment onto someone else. So I did something I later came to be very ashamed of myself for. I went home and told my mother that I had seen Kathy V embracing some guy. No, this isn't a story where the guy turns out to be a beloved cousin visiting from out of town. No, she really did have a b- b- boyfriend! My mother, in turn, got on the phone, called Kathy's mother, and told her what she'd heard from me. A day or two later, another friend asked me what I could possible have been thinking by reporting this to my mother so that Kathy's mother would find out. I didn't have much to say, but I got the message. This mutual friend came from a similarly strict religious background, but her response was to close ranks with Kathy and keep what she saw to herself. My decision most likely hurt Kathy V quite badly. She was probably punished, grounded, and possibly a lot worse, by her puritanical folks. Kathy V and I never really had a close friendship, so I never found out the specifics. 

But it was wrong of me to do that. If I ever run into her, on social media or elsewhere, I'll be sure to apologize.