A 19 Deja vous /Pinochio's Nose Grew Longer

Deja vous /Pinochio's Nose Grew Longer (June 16, 2000)Chapter 19

We who lived in concentration camps can remember the men who walked through the huts comforting others, giving away their last piece of bread. They may have been few in number, but they offer sufficient proof that everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of the human freedoms -- to choose one's attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one's own way. - Viktor Frankl
June 16, 2000

A chance meeting of a pleasant person on a cool spring day. This should have been a positive memory for me. Indeed, the actual meeting was pleasant. He was an older gentleman, but not elderly, finely dressed in a tailored three-quarter length coat and well groomed with that "distinguished" look. His speech denoted culture and refinement, and his accent revealed his Latin American roots. Our conversation was brief as we stood facing each other exchanging a few nondescript, unremembered pleasantries, but I recall him telling me that he was originally from Venezuela, and that he had three grandchildren, one the same age as my grandson. And as we talked, I wondered what life events and decisions had brought this person so far from his homeland in South America.

All the while, my grandson played contentedly on the grass beside me occasionally stopping to lean against my leg, shooting beguiling responsive smiles up towards me and this gentleman as we conversed. As this brief conversation ended, this man picked up my grandson, and speaking a few grandfatherly words, he quickly kissed him on the cheek, immediately returning him to his contented play at my feet. Though this action was unexpected, it did not alarm me, nor did it alarm my grandson who always relished attention as his beaming eyes betrayed. Having taken a Spanish language course, which included instruction on Hispanic culture, I knew that this behavior in this setting, under these circumstances was perfectly innocent.

But 20 feet away, other eyes belonging to the Children's Services driver, R., the person who oversaw my supervised visits, had penetrated this exchange and "other" ignorant conclusions were being reached. - "It was inappropriate of you to allow this man to kiss ______", I was told.

At this point, my mistake was saying ANYTHING!

I responded by stating that I had not "allowed" this man to kiss my grandson, it had just happened, quickly and unexpectedly. Then I tried to explain that I had not been concerned about this behavior because this person was from the Spanish culture and in the Spanish culture a kiss, even between strangers, was not considered inappropriate. I also added that in the traditional Native culture, my culture, such a display of affection towards a child within the presence of family would not be considered inappropriate either. Then, thinking I might calm the concerns she had, I told her that I understood her inability to comprehend because it was obvious that she had not taken cultural sensitivity training and was unaware of the norms of the Spanish culture. Ever helpful, I added that I knew someone who was experienced in providing this training to various government departments, and perhaps some arrangements might be made to have this training available to the Children's Services Department.

O-o-oops - though this information was given with the best of intentions, it immediately became obvious that it had not been received as such. Suddenly, all semblance of the person I had known up to this point disappeared as this woman became like one possessed: the veins in her neck engorged as a flush of hot crimson claimed her usually pale face and neck, and her eyes, distended, were intense and livid with rage. "Stop arguing, right now, or your visit will cease immediately! " she emphatically threatened.

I was shocked! This was not argument, not the non-academic argument she was referring to. I was not even attempting to change this woman's mind. I was only attempting to clarify to this woman why she did not understand my perspective. However, fearful of losing my visitation with my grandson, I instantly clamped my mouth shut, picked ______ up and put physical distance between me and this woman, all the while, being very careful not to move abruptly, concerned that such an action would be negatively interpreted.

In my mind, I attempted to screen this person out. I did not want her to ruin my visitation with my grandson any more than she already had. But I was terrified as I stood there under the trees by the edge of the lake fearfully clutching my grandson as I gazed across the water, so still and empty. I felt completely helpless! I felt as if the whole world had gone insane. I had done nothing wrong yet my freedom to be with my grandson in a normal environment had been stripped from me, and with horror, I could now see that this person, with no specific education in social work or and any other degree, was enjoying wielding this power over me.

As I stood there alone, transfixed in my fear, with no one to help me, afraid to speak, I momentarily felt transposed to another time and place. This is how it must have felt going into a concentration camp during the second world war: innocent yet imprisoned, with no voice and no one to turn to, afraid of losing contact with those you loved the most, holding your child but having no way of protecting it. How could I be living such a nightmare, in this country at this time. Surely, people do not realize that such torture is happening now in this country for if they did would they not do something to stop it? As I continued to gaze across the vacant expanse of the lake, I felt like I was a million miles away from any help, in a different dimension, alone.

Then the need to make positive memories for my grandson pushed through my pain and fear and I looked at his sweet little face, innocent of the controversy that swirled around his life. He had no way of knowing how hard I was fighting to bring him back to his family, to a home where he was passionately loved and cared for.

When I set _____ down under the trees, he wandered into the midst of an accumulation of golden brown leaves taking immediate delight in the rustling sounds as he scurried through these remnants of the previous fall. Then, as we played together, he laughed and giggled as he noted his ability to control the crunching sounds as we dashing back and forth, occasionally stopping to toss the leaves above our heads, immersing ourselves with this tattered woodland confetti.

Then, abruptly, our precious time together came to a close as the driver announced that it was time to collect our things and head for home. At this point, I guess I was feeling safer, and naively I was thinking that with the closing of my visitation I might venture to clarify myself again So as we headed home I stated that my understanding of the Spanish culture came from a university course I had taken and that I felt this difference of opinion was due to a "cultural misunderstanding".

But it was apparent that I was not enlightening this woman: her flushed coloring persisted, as she continued to adamantly declare that this behavior was "inappropriate". "In all her training she had never . . .!"

At this point I interjected, and on this one sentence, only, I raised my voice saying, "I know you don't understand, and you do not understand because you have never taken any cultural sensitivity training!" Immediately realizing my mortal slip, I lowered my voice and said "Well, I raised my voice and I suppose you will document this, won't you?" This was the only recollection that I have, in the almost 2 years that I had to deal with "these people", the Children's Services Department, that I had ever allowed myself to raise my voice, yet even now it had not been raised in anger, only frustration, trying to get this person to hear what I was saying to her. But I would pay dearly for this infraction, and what was worse, my grandson, not yet two years old, would pay for this as well.

Shortly after the driver drove _____ back to the foster home, the case worker phoned me. She would not allow me to explain myself. All she wanted to do was to establish if this person was a "stranger" - end of discussion. Then she told me that my visits with my grandson would immediately return to the office and that this issue would be raised in court - end of conversation. The unnatural circumstances in which I was forced to visit my grandson was now being made even more abnormal.

Knowing that I had done nothing to justify their taking my home visitations away, I calmly began thinking how I could defend myself against such unrighteousness. First, I decided, while this "incident" was fresh in my mind, I would immediately draft an affidavit stating the events of my visitation and the resulting phone call with the social worker. I ended this affidavit with this plea:

My home visits with my grandson are important to me. They are important for _____.. Weather permitting I take ______ outside. I live by Lake Banook where there are walkways to explore, grassy areas to play in, "duckies" to feed, beaches to sink your toes in, water to splash in, and trees to enjoy. The smells and sounds of nature are all around.

To deprive _____ of these experiences surely cannot be in his best interest. The visitation rooms [at the Children's Services office] are small with no windows. Even in my apartment, ______ likes to get up at the window to watch and hear the birds. It is summer, the good weather days of summer are limited.

In addition, I contacted my Spanish professor who wrote not only a letter of explanation to the innocence of the gentleman's behavior but included also a beautifully written message of support for me.

[insert quote here]

Once again, I was naive. I thought I had all the bases covered, but when people are willing to lie, anything is possible. As it turned out, at the next court appearance despite the declaration of the case worker and despite my specific instructions to my lawyer, the issue was not raised so that this situation was left unresolved. Instead, I was to learn after the court session, that the case worker had conversed with my lawyer, outside in the corridors before the court was called into session. And despite the importance of this conversation, I was not made aware of this until my lawyer was driving me back to her office after court.

As this rushed and busy woman wound her car through the traffic, stopping here and there at the occasional red light making turns right and left, the enormity of our conversation became apparent. Here, for the first time, I learned that the reason being given for my loss of home access was that the case worker was now claiming that when she had phoned to speak to me that I had "slammed the receiver down on her ear".

How does one react to such a bold face lie? As I set stunned on the passenger side, everything seemed to take on a cloak of surrealism. The car seemed to float as my lawyer maneuvered the corners. And though I became acutely aware of the people on the sidewalks and in the cars surrounding me, I knew they were but passing blurs unaware of the unfolding drama within the confines of this car. "I can't believe it!" I expressed in shock as my eyes bulged from their sockets as if searching for some unuttered explanation "I did nothing of the kind. She is lying! Why would she lie? I can't believe it!" "I can't believe it!" This phrase, I can't believe it, was to be repeated so often in my nightmare journey with Children's Services that I finally got to the point that I would catch my words as I began blurting them out and correct myself saying, "No, I have to wipe this out of my mind. Nothing surprises me any more, I do believe it, I do believe it!"

Yet my lawyer was not surprised. She explained that when I had supported my argument of cultural insensitivity so well, it was not unlike the Children's Services Department to come up with another, different, excuse for taking my home visits away, even if it meant manufacturing a lie. Well, if she wasn't shocked at this behavior I was - I was new at the game and I still had so much to learn.

Now, instead of the matter being brought up in court, as promised by both my lawyer and the social worker, an informal meeting was arranged between me and my counsel, and the case worker and the legal counsel for the Children's Services Department. During preliminary consultation with my lawyer, I had been instructed to let my lawyer do all the talking - yet this did not set right with me. This was to be an informal meeting. Why should I be the only one without a voice? As a result, I sought the advice of a friend who used to work for Children's Services as a driver. As it happened, she was aware of this particular lawyer, and she was aware of his ability to discern truth from lies. She, still believing that the lawyer for Children's Services would do right, strongly recommended that I speak forth because, she explained, he was experienced at recognizing a truth teller as well as a liar and that if I remained silent this lawyer would not have the opportunity to gauge my honesty.

When we met, it was on the opposition's turf, the board room of the law firm representing Children's Services. It was a large rectangular room dwarfed by a grand solid conference table that claimed all but the outer fringes of the room. My lawyer and I were the first to arrive and we sat almost midway along the left side of the table, my chair being the closest to the doorway. I remember being conscious of my lawyer's comfort in this room, surely she had been here before, but I also recall my own discomfort. Then as our wait extended I began to wondered if the room was not wired for sound and if they might be listening in on our conversation. At the time, I also remember thinking that this was an irrational concern, but I have since found that, with matters concerning Children's Services, all things are possible, and no fear is necessarily unfounded.

When the opposition entered, the case worker slid into the seat almost across from me, perhaps one seat closer to the entrance, and the counsel for Children's Services pulled up a chair at the end of the table by the door. I was to find out later that he was the "big cheese", the lawyer called in by Children's Services to deal with their most difficult cases and that he only tended to make occasional appearances during the "sticky bits". That this man became my routine opponent, I was told, spoke volumes about Children's Services desire to get what they wanted from this case. This, and the fact that, not one but, two CS lawyers were in this court case. Yet, to this day, still not knowing for sure where my grandson is, I am left speculating what and/or who was driving the actions of Children's Services.

As the discussion began between the two lawyers, as instructed, I patiently played the spectator, but it quickly became apparent that that the lawyer for Children's Services had rolled up his sleeves and was determined to block my bid to have my visitations return to my home. Then the case worker began to speak, and as she spoke, as I related to my friends, "Pinocchio's nose grew longer and longer". Now, she was claiming that she had made not one, but three consecutive phone calls to me on that particular day and that I had slammed the phone down on her ear not once but three times, all the while averting my gaze as she said this.

I am sitting across from her hearing this new extension to her lie and I am watching myself because I know that all the while I am being closely scrutinized by the other lawyer. I remain calm though I am totally blown away by the boldness of this lie. This is not right. And I am thinking that when people are doing wrong they should not be allowed to feel comfortable in their wrongness. Yet, I also know, at all costs, I must compose myself and be civil.

Any human response, no matter how justified, would be used against me, and I knew, even though it was true, that I could not directly accuse her of lying. When the worker had finished speaking , I gathered my courage and all the serenity that I could muster. I gazed across the expanse of the table and looked this woman directly in the eye, not angrily because I knew that that would be detected and used against me, but with the look that spoke what both my heart and her heart already knew, that we both knew the truth, the real truth. And I said to her calmly, with conviction, "You made one and only one phone call to me that day and the only thing that you wanted to know was if I knew this person that I spoke to. When you found this out, you ended the conversation. I did not hang up on you. And I do not lie.", with the emphasis on the I.

I am sure there must have been silence for at least a few seconds after I said this. And the Children Services lawyer did take note, and he did respond by telling us that he wanted a few minutes of private conversation with the case worker in the hall. I cannot recall if I spoke with my lawyer as I waited there, but I remember feeling venerable. Truth was on my side, but I have come to learn that truth seems to have little meaning when you are dealing with this system.

Finally, after what must have seemed like forever, the doorway to the hall opened and the opposition returned to their seats. The case worker, that I would now and forever refer to as "Little Miss Liar" was dabbing her reddened eyes. Taking note, and wanting to emphasis this case worker's condition, my lawyer made comment, suggesting that the case worker might be suffering from allergies. "No," she replied, "I don't have allergies".

From this I was to deduce that, if given time, this worker could come up with a lie, but that she was not able to do so on the spur of the moment, even if an excuse was handed to her. I felt that this weakness was important to note especially if we went to trial. Indeed, I was to find out later from another lawyer that this particular case worker had a reputation of lying but when she was on the stand, confronted with the lie, she did have a habit of recanting.

There was a noticeable change in the demeanor of the counsel for Children's Services, and this lawyer, giving no explanation, now declared that I would get my home visitations back. However, despite the fact that I had never done anything wrong, my home visitations would be returned on a gradual basis. The first week only one of my three weekly visits would be in my home, the second week, two, and then finally on the third week all three visits would be returned to my home.

I do not know what touched this man's heart that day. I believe that when he heard me speak he discerned who was the liar and who was the truth-teller, and that day he did the right thing by giving me back my home visitations. However, by not admitting that an injustice had been done and only allowing my visits back on a graduated basis, it was apparent that this lawyer was attempting to save face for the department and that it was the "best interest" of the Children's Services Department, not my grandson, which was being served.

The lack of action against those who had done wrong within the Children's Services Department, only further encouraged their inappropriate behavior. After this, that particular driver only wrote up my visitations in the most negative light, skewing every word and every action, and adding embellishments from her imagination whenever it pleased her. My only saving grace was that this transposition was blatant and apparent when one compared her written reports before and after this incident and it was also apparent that her attitude towards me varied from that of the other drivers who brought my grandson for his visits.

In the end, I have often wondered about this innocent stranger who walked into my life for only a brief moment and then walked out again, never knowing what disturbance and pain was left in his wake.