Admittedly, I’ve taken some time off from this blog because it’s been too hard to “go there” in my thoughts on most days.  This is the Christmas season, and I want to be happy and in a celebratory mood — not dwelling on the past and all of the ugliness associated with being married for years and years to a practicing pedophile.  I still have days when it’s hard to believe.

This week, though, I find it necessary to pull up some memories that caused huge red flags for me.  I got angry.  I was frustrated.  I just didn’t understand the man I was married to and some days it about drove me crazy!  There were many, many “park and playground” incidences that I can recall — and I do mean many — but I’ll only share one week of these questionable moments with you.  Slowly but surely the pieces are all beginning to fit together.  And, the more pieces of this horrid puzzle that fall into place, the more sick my stomach becomes.

If you are new to this blog, please begin reading here.  This blog is very quick reading — it’s written in story form so that you can follow along and learn with me what these “red flags” were all during our forty years of marriage and understand why I never acted on them.  At the time these events were taking place, I didn’t even know what the word “pedophile” meant, let alone suspect that my husband was molesting children!

John traveled most days working the insurance job.  It was not unusual for him to leave in the morning around 9:00 a.m. and not return until midnight when he was traveling to places that were two and three hours away.  Honestly, I never did understand why he put himself under such pressure.  We needed supplemental income, but he said to me, “I’ll never work a time clock!  Never!  I’ll be my own boss, set my own hours, and that’s how it will be.”

And, that’s just how he seemed happiest — he made his own appointments and off he went.  Sometimes for a day, many times for a week at a time.  I hated it that way, but he was a great salesman, made good money, and got to be his own boss, and even though there was terrible stress with a commission only job, he still said he’d never work for an hourly wage job.

I was laying in bed last night thinking about one particular week when his behavior was more odd than usual.  He was stalling downstairs in his office (supposedly making appointments for the day), but when he came upstairs to leave it would be around ten o’clock or later which didn’t give him much of a work day at all considering he had to travel two hours one day.

By this time, we had a family of eight children — they were born pretty much one right after the other.  And, yes, we did plan on having a large family — a question I still get asked to this day.  This particular week, I got a frantic call from John one afternoon.  “Clara, I need you to come get me.  I’m stuck in some deep mud in a park.  The more I tried to get out of this mess, the worse I dug my tires into this muck.”

“Where are you calling from?  If you’re stuck, how do you have a phone?”

He was calling from a police car!  The police were patrolling the park, and found John there and went up to him and asked him what he was doing.  He said he was eating his lunch and preparing for his Sunday sermon while on lunch break.

“So what am I supposed to do?!?!”

He said, “Come get me.  I’ll be at the police station.  The car will have to be towed.”

I was furious!  Absolutely furious!  This meant packing up all 8 kids into the station wagon and driving two hours one-way to pick him up, paying for the cost of the gas, Turnpike tolls, and a towing fee!  All because he drove into some park and got stuck in the deep mud!

This didn’t make sense then, but it sure does now!

I was not a happy camper over this, but his story sounded convincing enough and thankfully the car was okay.  It was towed out of there, John got a fine (I’m still not sure why), and his car was ready for the road in a day.

Two days later I was rocking one of the kids to sleep for his nap and I got another frantic call from John.

“You’re not going to believe this.  I was eating my lunch when I spotted a deer.  I got out of the car to follow the deer tracks and when I went to leave I realized I locked my car keys inside of the car.  I walked to the main road and hitched a ride to the nearest telephone.  Can you come get me with the spare key?”

“You have got to be kidding me!” I screamed!  Where are you?”

“I’m in the same park where I was stuck on Monday. I was eating lunch planning out the rest of the day when I saw the deer.”

Honestly, I was seeing red!  “Why were you in the park?!?!?!?!”

“Because I like to eat in private and I like to get out and stretch my legs after sitting for two hours driving.”

So, I packed up the kids again, and off we went.  This time I actually got to see where the car was.  It was deep into a park right outside of Mars, Pennsylvania.  Interestingly, it was located next to the little playground and the restrooms.  Odd, I thought.  There were beautiful spots where you could see the lake, but he was parked by the latrines and the swings for kids.

We rode home in silence.  I was angry about this happening two times in one week.  Irresponsible at the very least.  And, very strange if you ask me.  I usually backed down in an argument, but not this time.  I wanted to know what the fascination was with driving into parks for lunch breaks.  John often told me he took naps in parks when he got tired from driving.  He ate his lunches among nature because that inspired him.  He got out to stretch his legs.  Or, he needed to use a bathroom and didn’t know where else to stop.  Why did he drive all of those miles and spend so much time away from home sitting in parks?  He was supposed to be making calls to clients!!!

I fell for his lies hook, line and sinker.  Again, and again, I fell for the lies!

Red flag number one:  Why would a policeman ask you to leave a public park if you’re not suspect to something? It didn’t click with me at all.  If you’re minding your business, eating lunch, you’re breaking no rules at all in a public park.  BUT — if you’re stalking little children on a playground, you will be asked to leave!  When John was arrested two years ago, guess where he was taking children?  To parks!  Parks and playgrounds are hangouts for pedophiles! 

Red flag number two:  Why did John go back to the very same park two days after he got into trouble there?  That didn’t make any sense at all to me.  BUT — if you’ve found a special child that you’ve been watching for days  on end, you’ll go back and study that child some more.  You’ll get out of your car, walk over to that child and talk to that child.  You’ll make friends. You’ll take pictures of that child.  Why?  Because that’s just exactly how pedophiles who molest gain the trust of children!  I urge you to read “Not With My Child.”  That book will enlighten you!

Red flag number three:  John was always very secretive about “his car.”  I was rarely allowed to drive it, and if I did, he always had to empty out boxes from the trunk of his car before I was allowed to drive the car.  He called it his “office on wheels.”  Granted he did have boxes of insurance forms and papers in the trunk, but he also had all kinds of other things.  When his car had to be towed from the park, he was very anxious to get back to the car to “get some things.”  He walked all the way back into the park to his car to get his bag of “stuff” rather than let it sit there in the car while the car was towed back to town.  What was in there that was so special??  I would later find out, and it wasn’t pretty!  (I’ll save this for another blog.)

Pedophiles who molest children often use parks and playgrounds as their hangouts.  John used parks and playgrounds as his hangouts.  Why?  Children are always there, and they wear bathing suits, and shorts, and they pull their pants down when they go to the bathroom exposing themselves.  Pedophiles who are looking for arousal can easily go into the restroom with young boys and get quite a show without the children ever knowing it.  And, sadly, many parents will not watch their children at parks and will allow them to use the restroom alone.  Pedophiles have easy access to peeking inside and watching these children.

My heart feels sick.  One of the very first letters John wrote me when he was in Israel before we got married included details about how he hid behind the bushes and watched the young girls change out of their clothes into their swimsuits.  Many times they swam nude.  I cried when I read the letters because I thought it was so hurtful to tell me he was doing this while we were engaged.  Now I cry because I know exactly what he was doing and why.

Parents beware!  Please, please keep your children under your careful eyes at all times — especially at camps, playgrounds, and parks where others have easy access to watching your children, taking photos of your children, and getting close to your children and touching them where they should NEVER be touched!!!

We are too lax in our thinking — far too naïve in our thinking so many times.  I was completely naïve and couldn’t put the pieces of this very odd behavior together until many, many children had been harmed.

Children are innocent.  If someone says, “Pull down your pants and I’ll help you go to the bathroom”, they’ll let you do it.  If a trustworthy looking adult offers you a bag of chips and a soda and then says, “Let me help you change out of your swimsuit and you can be all ready to go home when mommy comes up from the lake”, they’ll allow it.  That’s when the very trained fingers of a pedophile go to work!  I’m not mincing words because this is serious business.

Our children are precious!  Let’s do all we can to keep them safe.  Please, let’s make it impossible for molesters to get to our children.  Set safe boundaries for your children and don’t get lazy with enforcing those boundaries — ever!

Thank you for sticking with me.  Thank you for reading and sharing.  Thank you for doing your part to keep our children safe! Thank you for helping me warn others of the dangers that are often waiting for them in the most innocent of places!

Who is the molester?  I’ll say it again and again.  The molester is not the creepy guy with matted hair, smelly clothes, and dirt under his fingernails.  He is the preacher, the teacher, the gym coach, the salesman, the businessman, the attorney, the Sunday school teacher.  He’s anyone!  Keep your eyes and ears open at all times.  For the sake of the children, please stay alert!

Love,

Clara