Psst: Have You Heard About the Allegedly Anonymous Rumor?

Dear Philip:

There’s a rumor going around town that –

Let’s stop.  Let’s stop right there.  Though the phrasing has varied, several folks over the last few months have sent emails starting with some version of, “Allegedly, (neighbor/town official/guy I don’t like) has been (lying/cheating/stealing/being downright rude), and I know it’s true because I talked to someone who knows someone, and it needs to be stopped!”

There’s the person in power who’s been bullying a subordinate to bend the rules for a friend.  There’s the neighbor with an official “in” that gets her kid out of all kinds of serious jams.  There are scores to be settled and justice to be brought, and all the letters describing these situations are different except in the most basic sense:

The writers want someone else to fix things.  Things they’re not even sure are happening.

Sometimes they believe I can do it, by answering their letter directly in a way that will “out” the wrongdoer.  Sometimes I think they just want me to pass along whatever they’re upset about to the paper I write for, in the hopes reporters will investigate; which will result in righteous firings, public humiliation, and a return to moral order, alleluia, amen.  Mostly, I suspect these folks have been watching too much television.

Things don’t often get solved because someone thrice removed from the situation makes an anonymous complaint.  When solutions are found, it’s usually because the people involved avoided shortcuts or fantasies that someone else would magically, quietly make it all better.

A friend once phoned to tell me about a young public school teacher who got a call from a member of her local Board of Ed, asking that she “reconsider” a grade she’d given a student who was looking to go to school on an athletic scholarship.  The Board member – somehow related to the student’s parents – didn’t get what she wanted, and then leaned on the student’s coach to lean on the teacher.  Eventually, the story went, the coach got strong-armed by the town’s Superintendent of Schools.

That’s what my friend had heard, anyway, and based on the rumors, she was loaded for bear.  “This stuff goes on all the time!” she assured me.  I listened, and then asked her four questions: Did she have first-hand knowledge of any of this?  Did she hear that either the teacher or coach had been fired, or threatened with firing?  Was the kid’s grade changed? Finally, what did she think should happen?  She answered the first three with a simple “no,” and to the third she said, “Well, someone needs to be told!  This has to stop!”

And I agreed: the person who had to be told, if the story was in fact true, was the direct boss of the teacher and the coach.  The principal.  The inappropriate phone calls would have then been a matter of record, and if either of their jobs subsequently became threatened, the teacher and the coach would have had grounds for juicy lawsuits.  If the principal wasn’t willing to help, they should have gone to his or her boss, and so on.  It’s how the process works.

The problem with anonymous vigilantism is that it tends to be all heat and very little light: in my friend’s little town (and here, too, judging by my inbox) there are more than a few angry people who aren’t exactly knowledgeable about the source of their anger.  That’s a recipe for unfairly damaged reputations and rampant cynicism…

…and ill-advised letters to your faithful advice columnist, who would really rather help you figure out how to deal with your pesky mother-in-law.

...and Deliver Us from Cool Parents, Amen.

Dear Philip:

I have a 17-year-old son, and while I’m sure he has tried pot, my husband and I have been very clear that we don’t approve of it and that there will be consequences if we catch him doing it.  We have let him have a beer at home with us on a few occasions, but we didn’t let him go out afterward.  We are not the strictest parents, but we are trying to help him respect the law and the danger that drugs and drinking can cause.

Here is our problem: one of his best friends has parents who allow the boys to drink at their house, as long as everyone is sleeping over.  The parents stay upstairs while the boys party in the basement.  (They even bought their sons a special “beer pong” table.)  We don’t approve, but we don’t want him to feel he has to sneak around on us in order to be with his friends, who are good kids.  What we’re really afraid of, though, is that it isn’t just drinking going on at that house. 

He argues that what those parents do is the same as what we do when we allow him a drink at home as long as he isn’t going to drive.  Is he right?

Uncertain but Trying

Dear Uncertain:

Seriously?  You’re worried your son may have a point?  I mean, I’ll cut him some slack, on two counts: he’s got a developing 17-year-old brain, which means reasoning probably isn’t his strong suit, and he really wants to party with his friends.  But what’s your excuse?

Of course what those folks do isn’t the same as what you do when it comes to alcohol.  You and your husband are parents.   They’re idiots.  And maybe something worse.

Let’s start with you, though:  I applaud your first paragraph, Uncertain.  You’re doing it right, where it comes to alcohol and drugs.  Though some might disagree, I’m all for allowing your son a beer every once in awhile, under your supervision.  In fact, Connecticut law says a minor can consume alcohol when accompanied by a parent.  When you think about it, what better way to take the mystique out of drinking?  What better way to guide your child – carefully – through the physical effects of alcohol? 

As to the pot, you’re likely being realistic when you say you suspect your son has tried it, but you’re also rightly holding a much firmer line at home: we don’t accept it, and if we find out about it, there will be serious, meaningful consequences.  You might try sitting your son down and explaining why you allow one in the home, and not the other.  Tell him about the effects pot can have on his growing cells, on his judgment, and on his future plans, if he’s arrested.  Tell him also about the incredibly dangerous lack of quality control, when it comes to illegal substances.

Once you’ve had that conversation, you might call his friend’s parents and explain a few things to them, too: like the fact that they can – and will – go to jail for providing alcohol to minors if that basement party gets loud enough to attract the police.  Ask them if they’ve considered the civil liability they’ll face if some drunk kid gets hurt (or hurts someone else) after boozing at their house…and ask if they seriously think kids aren’t coming and going from their basement, no matter how many times everyone promises to “sleep over.”

Of course, folks dumb enough to let their kids throw ragers while they keep out of the way might not understand the subtleties of common sense…and, in their fear of not seeming cool to their kids, they might get angry with you for even voicing concern.  In fact, I’d bet on it.  

So talk to your son, instead.  Tell him all the stuff you’d have said to them, and then add how angry it makes you that his friend’s folks have abdicated very basic parenting responsibilities and created a situation that puts him, his friends, and even themselves at great risk.

Tell him that you pray it won’t take a dead teen or a perp walk to straighten those foolish, selfish people out. 

Philip 

Is It Time to Move On? Just Follow the Signs.

Dear Philip:

I was visiting my mother in Florida, and the weather report said that a storm was probably going to hit the Northeast on the day I was flying home.  The man I have been seeing for the past year texted to say, “You probably shouldn’t come home.”  When I called and told him that I was still going to try because we had made a dinner date to celebrate his birthday, he said not to worry because he had already made other plans.  He didn’t say with whom, and he didn’t mention a rain check for his birthday dinner.

Am I overreacting to be upset about this?  Up until the last month, he’s been very attentive, but he’s been distant lately, and the way he handled this was very cold.  What do you think?

Feeling Stranded

Dear Stranded:

Here’s what I think: Your ex-boyfriend is a jerk.  And I’m guessing that he is indeed your ex by the time you read this, whether you’ve accepted it yet or not.  Also?  Good riddance.

We boys can be tactless…but this seems beyond tactless, and heading firmly down the road toward contemptuous.  I’d be willing to overlook the stupid way he phrased his text to you – in other words, I’d be tempted to believe it was just badly stated concern – but for the fact that he took the further labor step of making other plans without first consulting you about your travel situation.

So no, Stranded, you’re not overreacting.  What you’re doing is noticing the very large signals he’s sending you.  The recent distance you’ve felt, coupled with the ham-handed way he casually broke your celebration plans, is a flashing neon sign which reads one of two things: it’s either “I have no problem taking you for granted,” or “I want out, and I lack a spine.”  Considering that, here’s my question to you:  does it really matter which of those messages he’s sending?

The good news is that you’re getting the chance to put him in your rearview now, and not after another year of dating.  Or two more.  Or a decade of marriage.  You’re getting an opportunity to peer into your future together, and I would hope that the preview would make you not want to stick around for what promises to be a dreary movie.

It’s not a virtue, Stranded, to single-handedly keep a relationship going long past the time it’s become clear that the person you’re seeing has lost interest.  It’s actually more of a curse, because that kind of willful ignorance keeps you from getting back out there and finding someone who will treat you with the respect you deserve; someone who warrants the regard with which you’ll treat them.

I’m a great believer in having certain standards, even – no, make that especially – when it comes to relationships.  I’m not so much talking about rules as I am about bare minimums: if you are willing to commit yourself to someone, to make them a priority in your life, then they need to reciprocate to the point where you feel sufficiently valued.  That means that if you sense you’ve fallen to the middle of their to-do list, you’re gone.  That means that your self-respect is strong enough to tell you when it’s time to move on.

Think for a moment about what you bring to a relationship.  Think about how much time, effort, and love you’re willing to give to the person you’d like to have as a partner.  What do you think those things are worth?  What do you think you merit in return?  It’s a safe bet that you deserve a heck of a lot more than Mr. Don’t-Come-Home, I-Made-Other-Plans.  In fact here’s your new mantra:  “I am worthy of someone who would swim across the Rhine under enemy fire for me.”  Don’t settle for less…especially after a year of dating, you know?

Kick the jerk to the curb, Stranded, and know this: the loss is entirely his.

Fly safe!

Philip 

Wife, Mom Share a Birthday? Between a Rock and a Hardhead

Dear Philip:

I have been married for seven years, and for all of them I have dreaded the same day in April.  It’s my wife’s birthday…and my mother’s.  My wife and my mother each think that the day should revolve around them, and they don’t really like each other.  (I’m putting it nicely.)

My mother insists that since she is the matriarch – she actually uses that word – we should celebrate with her every year, and my wife says that she deserves to be my number one priority.  Joint birthday celebrations don’t work, and I can’t see how to celebrate their birthdays separately.

How do I make them both happy on their shared birthday?

April Fool

Dear Fool,

Did you not see the name of this column?  It’s “Ask Philip,” not “Ask Miracles of Philip.” 

You, sir, (with apologies to Taylor Swift) will never, ever, ever make your spouse and your mother happy on the same day under these circumstances.  The math is pretty simple: they don’t like each other + you’re the person they have in common = lifelong death struggle to establish primacy.

 In other words, neither your wife nor your mom probably care much about how their birthdays are celebrated.  Instead, they’ve turned the day into an annual test of their relative importance to you.  Study all you want; you’re still going to fail.  That’s how the test is designed.  Make your mom the center of every birthday celebration, and you’ll spend the other 364 nights sleeping with someone you’ve relegated to second place.  Insist that it’s your wife’s night, and you can look forward to a steady diet of guilt sandwiches, served lovingly by the woman who gave you life and indirectly (or maybe directly) reminds you of that during every phone call.

My advice?  You can’t fail the test if you drop out of the class.  Don’t try to make them both happy on the same day, each year.  It’s not possible, and your efforts to appease one will only annoy the other.

The key to solving this lies in thinking of your wife and mother – in this instance, only! – as if they were toddlers fighting over the same toy.  You don’t mention children, so on the chance you don’t have any, here’s Parenting 101: when the kiddies can’t share nicely, an adult steps in and lays down a fair and equitable distribution.  Janey, you can have the toy for the next half-hour, and then it’s Johnny’s turn.  Johnny, after your turn, march across the playground and hand it back.  If you two decide you can share it, terrific.  If not, we’ll keep to the schedule.

You’ve got some time until April, Fool, and I’d suggest imparting a new birthday rule soon, so that you don’t allow either side to make plans that might then have to be changed.  Here’s what I’d say to them, were I in your shoes:  “I’ve been thinking about your joint birthday, and it occurs to me that it’s not possible to give both of you the amount of attention that I’d like to on the actual day.  This year, mom, we’d like to take you to dinner on the night before…or the night after, your choice.  Next year we’ll celebrate your birthday on the actual day, and we’ll just continue switching off.”

See what you did, there?  You’ve told both of the women in your life that you want to give them enough attention.  You’ve also told your wife that she’s the common denominator: “we” would like to take you out, Mom…but the other night is for the two of us.

Neither of them will be thrilled, but both of them will likely be placated.  The key is to stand firm, and to meet protests with the truth: This is not an ideal situation, so here’s a fair way to deal with that fact.  It’s also a way that subtly puts your wife first – by including her in all celebrations AND by giving her the day this time ’round – without denying your mother the thoughtfulness and respect she deserves.

Also?  Giving your mom a really nice present this year couldn’t hurt.

Enjoy both cakes,

       Philip

Yes, Virginia, There IS a St. Valentine

Dear Philip:

Valentine’s Day makes me sad.  I have been single for the past several years, and this Hallmark holiday feels like the world is trying to rub my singlehood in my face.  I have friends who are single who get together for a Valentine’s Day dinner every year, and while it was always at someone’s house, this year it is going to be at a restaurant, and I for one don’t want to have to look at all the happy couples at other tables.

Should I go and be miserable, or stay home alone and be miserable?

Lonely Heart

Dear Lonely,

If you’ve already decided to be miserable, it doesn’t really matter where you are, does it?  I vote for ‘go out and celebrate your friendships.’  First, though, it might help to brush up on your history.

Saint Valentine’s Day wasn’t invented by Hallmark; in fact, the card folks are relatively late to the party.  Centuries late.  The best most historians can figure, the Catholic Church created the feast day in the 5th century to celebrate a martyr from the 3rd.

The martyr was St. Valentine, who served during the reign of Emperor Claudius II.  Claudius had outlawed marriage for young men, figuring that single fellas made better soldiers.  Valentine, a romantic soul, quietly went on performing marriage ceremonies, until Claudius got wind of his actions and had him jailed and then executed.  It’s thought that Valentine passed a note before he died to his jailor’s daughter, professing his love for her.  Legend has it that he signed his note “your Valentine,” and thus eventually gave birth to the second-largest greeting card holiday.

But he wasn’t killed for that note, nor is he traditionally celebrated for it.  St. Valentine died for the crime of making others happy: he was martyred because he saw the injustice of denying young men the chance to marry, and he acted out of compassion and love.  Love of fellow man.  Platonic love.  That he may have found a little of the other kind before he died is terrific, but it’s not why they put the “St.” in front of his name.

So maybe you might consider broadening your idea of the celebration of love as each February 14^th rolls around.  You might throw the celebration of loving friendship in there, too, and recognize you wouldn’t be alone in doing so: according to our friends at The History Channel, a solid 85% of all Valentine’s Day cards are bought by women…and I’m guessing that not all 85% are addressed to men.

I’m so sorry that you’re lonely, Lonely, especially on Valentine’s Day, when it can seem like everyone else in the whole world is paired off.  The thing is, though, the world isn’t.  It’s filled with folks who have never married, or gotten divorced, or been widowed, or who aren’t particularly happy with their mate.  It also has its share of romantic show-offs: those friends of yours – we all have ‘em – who feel the need to shout their love from the rooftops and carry on as if they just walked off the pages of a Harlequin romance novel.  (Pity them: insecurity is a sad, hard road to walk…and their relationships tend to burn out as spectacularly as they start.)

If you ask me – and you did, God bless you – Valentine’s Day doesn’t come often enough to waste on a single Valentine.  I’ve got several.  My lovely bride is one, to be sure, but so are my daughters.  So are my friends Shannon and Liz.  At some point today I’ll send an email to Jennifer Estlin, my college girlfriend, asking her for the 27^th time if she’ll be my Valentine.  Her fiancé will understand: he knows that life is a little richer if we’re able to celebrate not only the people we’re with, but also the people who we’ve thought of with love along the way.

Go to that restaurant, Lonely.  Keep in mind that St. Valentine is remembered not so much for sending a mash note, but for feeling so connected to his fellow men that he gave his life for their happiness.  Love like that is worth celebrating.

Platonically yours,

Philip