The Kindness of Tom & Jerry

I just love Tom and Jerry.

I know, surprising words coming from a liberal-leaning, tree-hugging, book-loving, down-with-video-game parenting kinda mom like me. Remember, I’m that mom as not being a fan of mixing guns where my kids play. (Hold on, this column is not about guns this time, I swear. So please don’t write in about that.)

So how could I love Tom and Jerry, characters from that animated show with the extreme cartoon violence?

In truth, it’s not so much the actual program that I love. But more on Tom and Jerry in a bit…

First I want to draw your attention to a couple of news stories from the past few days.

Perhaps you read about , a 17 year old boy from Middletown, CT. He disappeared last week after leaving home, despondent when his beloved horse died. Thankfully Nathan was found healthy and unharmed after four days, making it all the way to Virginia on his way to Florida.

Nathan has Asperger’s, a form of autism. As Kim Stagliano, a mom of three girls with autism, warned in her on one Patch story about Nathan’s disappearance, there could have been much more at stake in trying to locate Nathan.

She wrote: “The social deficits [associated with Asperger’s] mean Nathan is in real danger from fellow citizens to whom he might appear ‘rude,’ or even [from] police, because he might react differently to their requests than you or I. Both autism and Asperger’s have severe consequences when things go... wrong. I'm praying for his safe return.”

Legions of people started passing along the alerts of his disappearance via social media. Not only was a dedicated Facebook page created, but people started reposting links to stories and pictures of Nathan on their own personal pages, hoping the news would go viral enough to have someone spot him and call authorities. Thankfully he was safely located before encountering a situation like Stagliano had feared.

Thankfully, people stepped up.

Which brings me to another news story about one man who also stepped up, big time. This account also concerned a missing child, but one who’d been snatched off the street near her Albuquerque home by a man who grabbed her and threw her in his van before speeding away. Neighbor Antonio Diaz Chacon chased down the would-be kidnapper and rescued the six year old girl from a potential nightmare situation.

According to an AOL/Huffington Post story, “Inside the impounded van were tostadas, a glove, a Leatherman tool, a black satchel, orange strapping … ‘This little girl was very lucky,’ police Sgt. Tricia Hoffman said. ‘We can only guess what would have happened to this child.’”

Diaz Chacon wouldn’t stand for that possibility. Instead, Diaz Chacon stood up for someone else, despite the potential for enormous risk to himself.

It’s this kind of heroism that I’m dwelling on as we start nearing the first day of school. I get these periodic reminders about the illusion of constant tranquility for our kids, how sometimes the issue of bullying rears its ugly head here at home. I see occasional comments about a months ago, when Wilton residents e-mail me privately or write public comments about the bullying their children have encountered in our schools.

There’s new bullying legislation on Connecticut’s books that was signed into law by Gov. Malloy on July 13. It addresses what schools must do, spelling out timelines for how quickly they need to investigate reports of bullying; mandating how all employees, from teachers to bus drivers need to receive new training about bullying; and addressing what actions—on school grounds or online—constitute bullying. (There’s a online two-page primer on the law that summarizes what’s covered.)

This kind of anti-bullying focus is crucial, but what is even more crucial is teaching our kids to be like Antonio Diaz Chacon. We need to teach our kids to stand up on behalf of others, whether they be victims, potential targets or somehow just different.

Kids notice. Kids especially notice when others stand up for the underdog.

For my son’s last birthday party, he had a lot of Wilton friends with him to celebrate. Also there to ring in the birthday was a relative who has autism, a boy from another town who didn’t know many of the other kids. After the party, the first thing my son talked about was which of his friends went out of the way to be especially kind and inclusive, who had made it a point to welcome this boy and make him feel like ‘just one of the boys.’

Kids see when others stand up.

Which brings me back to Tom and Jerry.

The other day, my son went to a soccer camp in another town where he knew no one. I had picked out his clothes for him that morning, and chose an old t-shirt with a Tom and Jerry picture on the front. I dropped him off at the practice and literally everyone else was wearing a professional or team soccer jersey—Barcelona or Manchester United, Red Bulls or Norwalk. My son was absolutely the only one not ‘dressed.’

Now, I know that a wearing a different shirt is a completely different situation than the way autism sets someone apart. A shirt is something you can take off so as to no longer appear to be different. Autism is something you can’t take off. A different shirt is a minor inconvenience, even in the world of materialistic Fairfield County.

But when he stepped into the car and we talked about how the first day of camp had gone, eventually getting around to me asking, “Did you care that you were the only one not wearing a fancy team jersey?”

His answer was telling. “It’s ok to be the only one. It’s not a big deal to be different.”

Getting our kids to take the first step of not caring what others think, of beginning to learn that it’s ok and acceptable to be different, and that they need to reinforce that and support that in each other, is the first step in getting them to stand up—to stand up straighter, to stand up for each other.

That’s why I now love Tom and Jerry.

Related Topics: Autism, Bullying, and Bullying Law