A lesson that keeps coming to mind, and I taught my kids this, is to back off and run the very moment you suspect something is amiss. Kids who do manage to escape being kidnapped after being grabbed admit they knew something was creepy about the abductor, and felt the urge to run, but didn't want to be rude or look silly. The MOMENT you feel concern, RUN and scream, and don't be afraid of being considered disrespectful to adults or acting like a ninny.
I grew up in the 50s/60s in a quiet, middle-class neighborhood with an arboretum, woods, creek. By the time I was in junior high school I'd heard enough news or hearsay to know sometimes creeps were out there, and to be careful. Or maybe it was just that I had a vivid imagination so was extra alert to possible danger. But my 80-something father only found out in passing last month about the time a guy tried to pick me up while I was walking home from junior high school.
I was 11 and had just started junior high, and missed the bus home. It was a pretty fall day, so I walked home. About 3/4 of the way home, I turned off the main road and was now walking by the arboretum (the outskirts of our neighborhood). A 20-something guy drove up beside me in a completely trashed-out car (cans and papers all over the seats and floor), leaned out the window, and asked me if I wanted a ride home. He was wearing a jumpsuit that reminded me of prison garb (though that was probably my imagination in overdrive here
--it was more likely a mechanic's outfit). I said, "No thank you, I'm almost home" to his offer, feeling creeped out immediately.
When he didn't go away but kept trailing me in the car, calling out the window repeatedly, I said, "No thanks, I live right HERE"--and bolted across the street and up the steps and sidewalk of a complete stranger's house. I was all set to lean on the doorbell and start hollering, too, but the guy drove off. So after a short bit, I completed my walk home. Never brought it up to my folks, though to this day I couldn't tell you why. Was I embarrassed? Did I get distracted once I got home and forget to tell them? Did it never occur to me they should know? Who knows?
All this to say, this kind of thing probably is attempted far more often than we hear about...back then as well as now. I wonder how many kids (especially young gals) have had dubious experiences but just never mention it to their folks. I remember my experience vividly to this day, but don't remember arriving home 'sweating bullets' or feeling in any angst the rest of that day. Guess at age 11 or 12 you just figure 'ah well, I handled it, it's over.'
uke:
pleading in that case murdered my best friend and their son. He doesn't deserve air to breathe most less cold air for comfort. All our prison are making death row easier than general prison grounds. 20 years before they die..... A pretty comfortable 20 years I might add. It's not safe anywhere anymore!
