A buddy of mine did some amateur boxing before his laid up his gloves and devoted himself to plodding along in the dark with us. Our exercise—running—admittedly doesn’t have a great deal to recommend it, but we do manage to avoid being punched in the face on a given day. A commonality is that our friends and family are likely to come out and watch our events. Frequently, there is a meal prior to the competition—the night before for marathons, in the evening for thumping contests.
So we found ourselves at our buddy’s grandmother who had prepared an extraordinary feast—baked goods as far as the eye could see–yummy chicken, salmon, and, grandma’s specialty, meatballs.
The recipe for meatballs was a generational treasure. “When we emigrated from the old country, we were so poor all we could afford to bring with us was our understanding of how to make meatballs.”
So of course our buddy’s grandmother handed him a blistering plate of meatballs.
“I can’t eat these, I have a fight in a couple hours,” he said.
“Just try a couple, you know you love them. Please, it does my heart good to see you enjoy the meatballs. Just like your great-grandfather did.”
My buddy ultimately succumbed to the to the not-so-subtle machinations of his loving grandmother. He was about to fight another 175-pound man but had no chance against his 120-pound relative. He ate one portion of the wonderful meatballs and then another. And then he went to the gym and got trounced. “I felt like I had rocks in my stomach,” he said, “By the second round I could barely lift my arms, couldn’t catch my breath, felt like I was going to throw up.”
If advice this bad—eat meatballs before a fight—can come from a loving family member, how can we keep our beloved children safe from ubiquitous, quotidian advice from those who would do them harm.
For example: “I am Mrs. Difficult_to_Pronounce_Foreign_Sounding_Name from Real_Life_Province_in_Actual_Country emailing you—a trusted individual–in that my late husband left me twelve million dollars ($12,000,000 US) for the purpose of distribution to a worthy cause in your country and, because I am dying of (usually cancer though not always) a debilitating disease, I ask for your kind indulgence in helping me see that this money does the most good if you will be so kind as to forward your social security number, bank account information, home address, and the names and ages of all your relatives.”
Or here’s a good one that just appeared in my spam folder, “Educational Resources was mentioned here in New York at our office. I did some research and it looks like you may qualify for part of the recent $5.5B Visa & Mastercard settlement.” It goes on, but I’ll spare you. Needless to say, my company was not mentioned in their New York office nor did they do any research. I’m honestly not even sure what this scam is about although, were I to respond, I know it’s not going to lead me anywhere good.
Before you savvy, non-deplorable readers dismiss the above as the putrid, disreputable scams that they so obviously are, note that folks are bilked for over $10 billion according to the Federal Trade Commission, $12.5 billion according to the FBI. Whichever one of these enormous numbers is accurate, it is almost certainly a low figure in that many folks who are fleeced are too embarrassed to report their losses to law enforcement.
I suppose in a world peopled by Flat Earthers, neighbors who disregard the moon landings, anti-vaxxers, history deniers, and adults who who think that science doesn’t apply to them, it should come as no surprise that “help me, this is your son, I need money” texted from an unrecognized number should receive credence and funds.
In a given day, your kids are receiving texts from persons unknown:
“How are you?”
“Did you want to meet for golf today?”
“Kelly here connected to [name redacted to protect the guilty.] We are impressed with your experience…”
All of which, if the kids are naïve enough to respond, lead to a heartless scam. When I was growing up, “nothing good happens after midnight” was a valid saying. For our children in 2024, nothing good could happen at any time during the day.
In It’s a Wonderful Life, George Bailey (Jimmy Stewart) asks his dad when there’s an important question. To remain the person to whom your kids come for advice, they have to know they will be met with non-judgmental, supportive, value-neutral guidance.
“How could you ask such a stupid question, now go do your homework” would not be my first recommendation.
“Eternal vigilance is the price of liberty” suggested Wendell Phillips, an abolitionist, in 1852. Our children are exposed to unprecedented ick from the time they get their first smart phone. Let’s help them learn how to say no. No to “get in the car, I’ve only had a few beers.” No to “send me money.” No to “have some meatballs before you fight.”
