The NFL and Domestic Abuse

I love NFL football. I grew up watching the Chicago Bears every Sunday afternoon with my dad. Dad is gone, but I still love my Chicago Bears. And, I love the game. The strategy, the amazing athletic skills and the unbelievable comebacks - it's a way to escape every day life. Or, it should be. Nothing can keep the world out, however. Ray Rice and Adrian Peterson, two of the NFL's most gifted players, have used their considerable strength to injure physically weaker people they claim to love. I look back at players like Walter Payton, who rarely lost his composure even on the field, and wonder what happened. Roger Goodell, the NFL commissioner, initially gave Ray Rice a slap on the wrist, suspending him from playing in two games. Two games? The firestorm from that little act of stupidity is still burning strong. After a more graphic video of the punch Rice planted on his then fiancee's head causing her to lose consciousness was released, Goodell suspended him indefinitely. Enter reports and an arrest for Adrian Peterson who is accused of physically abusing his 4-year old son by using a switch to "discipline" him. Discover it's not the first time Peterson has been investigated for child abuse. What is wrong with these guys? I don't for a minute think that these two are the only players in the history of the NFL who engaged in violent behavior. I am sure there is a long, sad history of physical abuse. It's harder to sweep accusations, videos and confessions under the rug now. Everyone can see the Rice video. Everyone can read Peterson admitting he hit his child with a switch and read the police reports. The only up side I see to any of this is that the NFL is being forced to address the problems of domestic violence and child abuse within its ranks. It's about time.

A Question of Life

It's been almost a year since I posted here. Time goes by so quickly these days. I guess I was caught up in work and life. There have been lots of ups and downs, mostly downs, in the last year. A mass was discovered in my left eye that has to be monitored every few months, probably for the rest of my life. Libby was diagnosed with Cushing's Disease. All of the fur babies are getting old. Heartbreak is inevitable.

Next month is the anniversary of a friend's suicide. It was many years ago, but every year around this time I remember and wonder why. Hearing the news about Robin Williams hit doubly hard. When I was younger, I wondered how people got to the point of suicide. I could understand it if someone was diagnosed with a debilitating, painful disease, but I couldn't understand why my friend, who was physically healthy, left a husband and three year old son behind.

My friend struggled within herself for years. There were previous attempts. Her seemingly happy life hid what was really going on. Apparently Robin Williams was in the early stages of Parkinson's Disease and had money problems, facts not known to the public until after his death. It's natural that we look for reasons when someone commits suicide. We can only guess. We can never really know.

I used to be chronically upbeat and optimistic. Life has a way of killing optimism. I understand now why people lose the strength to fight. I have not fully recovered from a series of losses that began in 2008. Now, every little disappointment seems tragic. I can't find the way to bounce back. I understand suicide better now than I did before. The fact is that none of us knows what someone else is dealing with. It's too bad we need a slap in the face to remember that.