My wife and I were driving south on Valencia St (San Francisco) when something grabbed my attention via my peripheral vision. I saw a dad of approximately forty leaning over a crying ten year old girl. He was irate. I slowed to get a more complete picture of the proceedings. I saw that he was raging irrationally, and the next step in escalation might be a beat-down.
I pulled off the street into a gas station just beyond the scene of the action. My wife was concerned about my sudden unannounced stop and departure from the car. I was on foot when the little girl came into my view. She was being consoled by an older girl. Dad had stopped the shouting and retreated to the doorway of a coffee house, but was watching the communication between the girls. He appeared to have taken the last position in line for service, so I went in and stood next to him.
He was consumed by watching the girls, but seemed to have regained his composure. I gauged his anger and present inclination for violence. I spoke to him, "You were pretty angry at your girl there."
He replied, "Yeah, it's her sister's birthday, we're on a little family outing to celebrate, and she's not going along with the program. She really needs to repair her attitude."
I continued, "I was parented harshly." He came back swiftly, "I was parented harshly, too."
I answered, "I believe you." A moment later I spoke again, "I don't think you know how angry you looked while you yelled at her. I wish I'd had a camera to video the exchange and show it to you. She would have reason to fear you were going to hurt her. I was afraid you could get no angrier without beating her to the ground.
"I've never laid a hand on her."
"Cool...I was driving by and saw you were so angry, it scared me. I couldn't pass by and not see that it calmed down. How old is she?" "Ten."
"I know when I was that age I disappointed my dad, and I imagine you disappointed your dad as well. She's a kid, and this won't be the last time she disappoints you." I stepped out of line, patted him on the shoulder and told him I needed to take off.
I walked a few steps when he called after me, "Hey!" I turned around and he stepped out of line to catch up to me and offered me his hand, "Thank you." I smiled, "You're welcome."
Looking back, I did a couple of things that kept me safe while intervening in this parenting situation. I approached the dad in such a non-threatening manner that he had no idea I was on a mission to speak with him. I stood next to him to feel for the degree of his anger and the likelihood of taking out his frustration on me. I suggested to him that he was unaware that he was having a much greater impact than he intended. Much more frightening. I let him know that he'd scared ME while I was driving by. I reminded him that we'd both upset our dads and we all lived through it, and life went on. He revealed to me that he'd been parented harshly, and I believe that he was able to make a connection between violence he'd experienced, and violence he was acting out to his daughter. And most important, I lived through the encounter using my training and experience.
I'm being treated for PTSD. One symptom is hypervigilance, another is tendency to be easily, swiftly agitated. I have a history of breaking up fights as well as anticipating and stopping violence. Useful as a cop, but dangerous as a private citizen. Part of my treatment is to look at many of these interventions and to celebrate my survival and successful actions. So this is a healing and a celebration blog.
Who Was That Man, The Lone Ranger!?
I'm unable to see violence against someone without becoming involved. There were bystanders in my childhood, that awakened in me a need to rescue. Seeing someone in trouble quickens my pulse and engages this urge. I may call the police. I may intervene. I refuse to be a "bystander" who looks on, but does nothing. Many of these events occurred while driving for a taxi company in San Francisco.