SUSAN LATHROP STEARNS
Most people refer to me as Sue Stearns, but when I was born on July 8, 1955, a nurse in the Ottumwa, Iowa hospital took a look at me and said, "A black eyed Susan.'' That was how I got my name. According to my mother, July 8 was the hottest day of that year, in a hospital with no air conditioning, so she said I was tough from the beginning. But it occurs to me that I would like to tell you about my homes, and introduce you to the people who mean the most to me, before I get to my own life.
There is a story about Grandpa Lathrop, my dad's father. He was the eleventh of twelve children born to his parents. At that time they thought that was enough so that is what they named him - Enough. Somewhere along the way he acquired the nickname Coonie, which everybody called him. Because they didn't feel like Enough was a very good name, after my dad was an adult, he took his father to the courthouse and had his name legally changed. Grandpa never had a middle name, so he made one up. He became Coonie Columbus, and all papers he signed as C.C. Lathrop. I've always loved that story that Grandpa told us countless times.
Grandpa and Grandma Lathrop lived on a farm by Lovilia, near a little town called Hamilton. In 1969 they were killed in a car wreck by a drunk driver. It was a blessing in many ways because they were so inseparable that I couldn't imagine either one living much beyond the other. Grandpa Lathrop never met a stranger. He taught me the gift of gab, how to visit with people, and not to be shy in public. He loved auctions, which I do as well, and he always had treasures and prizes that he'd picked up at those.
My parents were Estel Eugene and Betty Marie Ross Lathrop. They were married on September 11 (9/11), 1949, both at the age of 26. My dad was a World War II veteran, decorated with a bronze star and purple hearts. He fought in the Battle of the Bulge, but it was not until recently, just prior to his passing, that I learned of all the battles he was in and the actual combat he saw. There is a book about his company (119th Infantry Company G) that outlines all that, and I was fortunate to be able to see and read it. There are notations in the comers of the pages of who was killed during this or that battle, funny little anecdotes, etc. He always said his claim to fame was that he was in boot camp with Red Skelton. Dad came from a family of six children. He had a brother who was in the service at the same time he was, and a younger brother who served in Korea. All the boys in his family saw military service. It was a difficult time.
Dad worked for the United States Postal Service from the time he was 19. He went from janitor to Postmaster in his 35 years. He took advantage of the fact that he could retire at age 55, so he had 20-plus years of good retirement. He was able to fulfill his dream of farming and doing some of the other things he enjoyed. He died of emphysema on October 24, 2001, a week shy of his 79th birthday. His passing was very quick. He had a cup of coffee, I expect argued with my mom a bit, she left the room, and when she went back to check on him, he was gone. I think he started smoking when he was about 12, so he smoked for about 65 years. He said, "Don't feel sorry for me. I made my choices, and I'll live with the consequences."
Mother was born in Colorado. Her father worked for the railroad, so she traveled a great deal. She lost her mother when she was 18 months old. Her mother is buried in Brush, Colorado. We were able to visit her grave one time, so Mom knows where she is buried.
Mom and her sister, who was slightly older than she, spent a lot of time with their father. He had a good job as a telegraph operator for the railroad. The down side was that he was very transient. As a young child, Mother often had to fend for herself. She has told stories of moving during the Depression, even living one time in a revised chicken coop near the railroad tracks.
She told of talking to hobos and being scared. They lived in California for a period of time. Mother's grandparents lived in Albia. When her father married for the third time, she went to live with her Aunt Margaret, my great-aunt, who also lived in Albia. That was Grandfather's home base and where he is buried. All these things made Mother very independent, and she taught me to be that way.
Mother started to nursing school at the University of Iowa and decided that wasn't her field. She went to work as a bookkeeper in a Chevrolet garage in Ottumwa, and was a Deputy Clerk of Court in Albia for awhile. She was 33 when I was born and 38 when my brother was born. She was a stay-at-home mom, always there when we got home from school, supported all our activities, and attended all our performances. She still goes to all her grandson's games.
Mom is now approaching her 82nd birthday, living a full life in the house built by my parents in the early 1950s, just prior to my birth. She’s a "Dancing Granny." She practices twice a week with a little line-dance group. They perform at different places around the state, and have performed at the State Fair every year since they first began. She takes trips offered by the bank and does a lot of things I'm happy to see her doing. She is small in stature, so people find it interesting to see the two of us together, but whenever they comment, Mom answers, "I know exactly where she came from."
My brother, Dean, is five years younger than I. We were close, but I was his caretaker. As a little kid, he always tried to keep up with me. My favorite story about him is that one time he became so angry at me that he bit me on the seat of the pants. His teeth got stuck in the fabric of my britches, and I drug him into the house with his teeth firmly clamped on my rear end. He had the last laugh because Mom had to put Mercurochrome on the bite marks. But we're still close. There were just the two of us, so we kind of looked out for each other.
Dean was very good in athletics and I was more into academics and music. As a senior I was editor of the year book and involved in a lot of activities associated with that. Dean loves farming. When we were little kids, my dad bought a 15-acre farm, and we both became very active in 4-H. I can remember Dean and me lying in the haymow, just looking out around us. It was wonderful to be on this 15-acre patch and not right in town. Now Dean owns the origina1 15 acres, along with other land he has accumulated over the years. He lives in Albia, is married, and has two boys. His wife's name is Nathalie. Her mother is French, and apparently that is the French spelling. They have two sons, Michael (21), a junior at Iowa State University, and Chad, who is almost 15. He is in eighth grade, so he will graduate and go into high school next fall.
And then there are my husband Tony (Anthony John) Stearns, my in-laws, and extended family. Tony's father, John, was Clarke County Sheriff when I was assigned to Clarke County, and I became acquainted with John and Marian when we'd gone to different law enforcement functions together. They invited me to the house one evening before Tony and I were seriously dating. When Tony and I came to know each other, we discovered we had lots in common. He was born May 14, 1955, so he was just two months older than I. We both attended the First Christian Church, both graduated the same year from high school, were both involved in 4-H.
We dated for short time - a really short time, like four months - when he asked me to marry him.
We were married October 21, 1978.
Last night I went to Women's Night Out at Woodburn. It's a Booster Club function. Tickets are sold to women. The trolley brought women from Osceola. We come together and have a soup and salad supper. Then we have entertainment. Last night it was Bruce Harris and the Hillbillies, and John Stearns played. It is amazing that he can't read a note of music and yet can play the fiddle beautifully. He is in the National Fiddling Hall of Fame, and has accomplished a number of things, in addition to being sheriff of Clarke County for 28 years. Tony's mother, Marian, was a hair dresser and instructor for over 30 years. She retired when her health would no longer allow her to stand for long hours. She still cuts Tony's hair. He will not let anyone else do it!
When we met, Tony was working for the Burlington Northern Railroad and was also a horse-shoer. He graduated from Oklahoma's Farriers' College in 1974. Horses had been a big part of Tony's life while he was growing up, and Russell (Rut) Tolley inspired him to work with them. Tony rode and drove horses for Dr. Paul and with the Junior Posse in Clarke County. Rut was killed in a train accident. Shirley Fouch recently found an article about Rut and his horseshoeing. She laminated it for Tony, and that is pretty precious to him. We have it hung in our house along with horseshoeing prints, and we have Laura Haines' original painting of Tony shoeing horses. We still have horses, and Tony is still shoeing horses, in spite of it getting harder and harder on him physically.
When Tony was with Burlington Northern, they always had a layoff in the winter and called him back the next spring. Tony dearly loved farming and being outside, working with horses - he is just not the kind of guy that can work too well under structure. He told me how miserable he was, and we decided it wasn't worth it. I had a good job that had benefits. Farming at that time wasn't as poor as it is today. We had hogs, cattle, and horses, and were doing quite well, so Tony quit working for the railroad. After we married, we moved to the farm where he was raised. We are the third generation of Stearns to live in that house. After Tony's grandfather's death, the family used the life insurance money to build the house, and John's mother raised her eight children there. As time went on, various members of the family bought it, and then John and Marian bought it and had their children there. Tony was just a young boy when his dad was elected sheriff, so he had to leave the farm that he never wanted to leave. He always wanted to move back, so when we were married, we decided we would take a look at the old house that had stood empty for some years. We fixed up enough of it to make it livable, and were there for 18 years.
In 1996 we had to make a decision. We concluded the house was beyond repair, so we tore it down and built a new home, which Tony designed. It is a berm home on 250 acres, with a big pond in front of it, just off highway 34 at the Woodburn exit. I'm pretty proud of the fact that it is on the same location where all the Steams have lived for three generations. My dad's side of the family was settled but Mom's was pretty transient, so to have roots like that I think is important. I love being on the farm, out in the timber, and at the same time close to town. We're a mile from Woodburn, 10 miles from Osceola, a little over an hour from Des Moines, and only 45 minutes from my mom's home in Albia, so we have an ideal setting.
Now about my life: I was raised in Albia, and lived all my life in the house my parents built. I went to Lincoln Elementary School, which was in my backyard, right behind our house. It was a four-story brick building and I can still remember the steps and the smells. I remember the day John Kennedy was shot. It was in 1963, and I was in third grade. I remember the dress I was wearing. I remember that the teacher came in, extremely upset, sending us home, and that we watched it on our black and white TV.
Junior high was in the same building as the high school, which was only three blocks from our house. When I turned 16 my dad just knew I had to have a car, so my first car was a 1963 pushbutton automatic Chrysler Newport that would seat 11 comfortably. Dad bought it as a surprise from a former postmaster he had worked for. Of course I had to drive to school those three blocks every morning because, for heaven's sakes, I couldn't let the car sit in the driveway.
In high school I was active in music, marching band, in chorus for awhile but I wasn't as active in vocal music as I was in instrumental. I mentioned that I was editor of the year book I was fortunate that studies didn't come hard for me so I did well in school, graduating third in my class of approximately 200. I said the closing prayer at graduation, and I remember how difficult that was even though I'd been a public speaker, involved in speech and drama. Speech has never been an issue for me. Everyone who knows me probably realizes that.
I went on to Ottumwa Heights College, which now is part of Indian Hills, but at the time I went, it was part of the Sisters of Humility Convent. Ottumwa Heights has been there for years and I don't remember exactly when it burned, but when they rebuilt it, it became an ecumenical and coeducational facility. I was not Catholic, but Melrose, Albia, and Lovilia were predominantly Catholic and we all went to each other's churches. It didn't matter which church you went to, just so you went. I went to Mass as often as I went to my own Christian church.
At Ottumwa Heights, I did two years of liberal arts. We had quite a few run-ins with the nuns, but we had a good time. There were four of us girls who were pretty ornery. We weren't afraid to do too much of anything - like we took some in their wheelchairs and had races. The nuns were always after me to go to Mass, and I told them I was Jewish or whatever else that would suffice for an excuse.
My favorite story was that I served Mass with the Bishop for the 50th anniversary of the school. When I was asked to do this, I thought it was an honor. I went into it feeling pretty good about it and couldn't figure out why all the nuns were sitting in the front row of the chapel giggling. Here I was serving Mass with the Bishop, and when he offered it to me, I told him I couldn't take it. He asked why, and I said, "Well, Father, I'm not Catholic." He went white and I wondered what I'd done. Had I cancelled it or something? He asked, "Why did you do this?" And I said, "Because I was asked and thought it was an honor." He said, "Well just this once I think the Lord will forgive a Protestant for serving Mass." I said, "I hope so!" It was a good experience to go to that college. It has since been closed and incorporated as part of Indian Hills.
I went on to Kirksville, Northeast Missouri State University, to finish my bachelor’s degree in Law Enforcement and Correction, which now would be referred to as Criminal Justice. In the early 70s, it was Law Enforcement and Correction with Psychology. I almost have a double major, except that I wouldn't take statistics. That kept me from the Psychology major. I was active there as well and made it into Who's Who in American Colleges and Universities.
I graduated in December 1976 and started a job on December 13 of that year. I had done an internship in Ottumwa with Adult Corrections in Juvenile Court. My supervisor in Ottumwa was contacted about a position, which had opened in Creston for replacement officers. He suggested me; they called me at school, and offered me a job. I came to Creston - never had been to Creston in my life - for an interview on Friday and started my job on Monday. That was a transition! I came from college where I'd worn bib overalls and tube socks, into the professional world. I think it was as much a shock to the system as it was to me, but I'm still here almost 28 years later.
On December 13, 1976, when I started the job, there were two officers and a secretary in the Creston office, and both officers were leaving, so within two weeks only the secretary and I were left. I made a lot of mistakes, but I got through it somehow, and I don't think I damaged too many children’s lives. The counties I was responsible for were Clarke, Decatur, Union, Ringgold, Adams, and Taylor. It was when I came to Clarke County that I met Tony.
My title was Juvenile Probation Officer, and I was to work with anybody under the age of 18 who had been involved in the commission of a public offense or crime, or who came under the category of "children in need of assistance." That included kids who had been abused or neglected or were having difficulties that weren't necessarily criminal in nature. We covered both ends of those. I lived with the mother of one of the former juvenile officers. She had been a foster parent for a number of years and had a room she was willing to rent me unto I could get settled in town. It was a good experience living with her.
My job entailed seeing the kids upon initial referral, weighing the circumstances, and making decisions. My first contact was usually in my office when I became acquainted with the kids, who told me about their parents. We would assess the situation, what was going on, what needed to happen, and how best we could accomplish that within the confines of the law. I could do a lot informally without having to go in front of a judge. Juvenile officers even now maintain that kind of ability. We try to set up services and help the best way we can, but in '76 we did most of it ourselves. We became therapist, concessioner, and everything else. We went to the homes and did a lot of traveling.
In those days we had a lot of runaways. That seemed to be the way kids handled things then. They would get themselves into situations and, rather than face them, they just ran. We faced car thefts and runaways quite often. They would be picked up somewhere and we'd have to go after them and bring them back, try to find secure facilities that would hold them long enough until we could get them back into their homes. But it was a different time in the 70s. There was a lot more freedom and a lot less fear of what was going on out there. Now kids don't run as often, because they realize they don't know where they are going or who is going to take care of them. In the 70s, it seemed the kids could always find a place where they could flop. That made a big difference.
Nineteen years ago this week, on May 5, 1985, I nearly lost my life. Several of us had gone to Stephens Forest for a trail ride, which we enjoyed and did a lot at that time. My horse was kind of cranky that day, apparently not wanting to be ridden. She reared up, and when she reared I grabbed for the saddle horn, got the reins instead, and pulled her over on top of me. It crushed my pelvis and broke the pelvis where it is connected to my back. I was brought by ambulance to Osceola. I didn't ever lose consciousness, and the girl from the dispatch office heard me directing the ambulance driver about how to drive. In the emergency room they told my family they didn't know if I was going to make it, and if I did, whether I would ever walk again. But. I tend to be a little on the stubborn order. I told them what was going to happen, which was that I would be up. I would be fine, and they didn't need to worry about that. They were concerned about getting me undressed, and were cutting off my clothes. I’d just paid $25 for a new bra, and I told them they were not going to cut off that bra. "I'll take it off. My rear end may be broke, my top half is not." Tony was saying, "Oh, for crying out loud!" Here they were worried about whether I would live and I was worrying about them cutting my new $25 bra!
I had to be life flighted to Des Moines. It was a humbling experience. I was in the hospital a month, in the wheelchair approximately three months. I have a great deal of respect for all those people who aren't as fortunate as I. I know I was very lucky. A father, whose daughter had also been in a horse accident, came to see me while I was in the hospital. She is in a wheel chair to this day. I was back at work part time in August and by September fulltime. Doctors told me I couldn't go back until January, but you know ... In all the time I was in the hospital, Tony missed one day of coming, and that was at my insistence. I knew he was tired. I said, "Tony, it’s Sunday. There are going to be a million people coming today, and I want you to stay home." He did as I asked, but was there the first thing the next morning. That experience solidified our marriage. The other tragedy that year was that I turned 30. I survived them both!
The cliché is that you get right back on the horse, and that is what I did. Lyle Cooper had a white horse named Jim that he had ridden for years. Jim wasn't very tall, but he was well broke. Lyle wasn't well, he and Mae had moved to town, and he wanted to sell Jim. Tony thought a great deal of the Cooper brothers, along with others who were interested in horses and who had worked with Tony as a kid. Tony bought Jim, promising Lyle that Jim would stay on the farm.
Jim and I got along fine. I'd get on him and go, go, go. Tony's dad would get on him to ride him in a parade, and he would prance and dance and kick and have a conniption, but then I'd get on him and he was fine. I was the only one who could catch him. If something happened and they needed to get him from the field, Tony had to find me to get him. We had to put him down just this winter. He was well into his 30s and had gotten quite feeble. He is buried with John's horse, Prince; that he rode for years here in town, and a horse, Lil, that Tony had bought and bred. We've not ridden so much in the past few years, not by choice, but that is how busy our lives have become.
Back to my job: regarding the attitude toward law enforcement, the pendulum kind of swings. The Juvenile Court was established in Chicago in 1899, so it does not have a long history. Prior to that, if , kids committed crimes, they were treated the same as adults, so lots of times a 10 or 11 year old shoplifter would be in jail with convicted murderers. The attitude changed when it was realized that kids are expected and entitled to make mistakes, and learn from them. When they are adults, they will understand there will be consequences for them. In the late 1970s, the theories and philosophies were more in the nature of compassion, taking care of juveniles, trying to make things better for them. Then the pendulum swung again, and we became more punitive in our approach - more punishment oriented. So we went from emphasis on caring to making kids more accountable. That isn't a bad thing, but sometimes a blend of the two would be good.
In 1978 I was transferred to our Corydon office and was responsible for Decatur, Clarke, Lucas, and Wayne Counties. In the 1980s the Federal Government intervened and said that the system was being too punitive. At that time, we were able to hold kids in county jails and do different things that are unheard of today. Iowa and other states had to revamp the entire juvenile code. That turned things around in terms of spelling out how we can deal with juveniles rather than have it be such a gray area. In 1985 we went from being county employees to state employees, and I became a state employee at that time.
Five or six years ago, the ability to deal with "children in need of assistance" was taken away from us. This was a directive from the state and our supervisor in Des Moines. The juvenile officers' case loads were becoming more and more out of control. We couldn't keep up with what we were doing, so the responsibility was placed solely with the Department of Human Services. The result has been that the DHS provides services. They do the court work that we originally did. We are Peace Officers in the state of Iowa, so we have the ability to take kids into custody. As judicial officers, we can enter the Judges' chambers to discuss cases. In other words, we are allowed passages that are not available to social workers. Because of this development, DHS has had to become a little more creative in how to deal with these kids and we court officers deal solely the kids who have committed crimes.
"Children in need of assistance" can have numerous definitions. This can be found in Chapter 232 of the Code. It can cover kids who have been abused, neglected, need to be in safe homes, have drug problems, or kids who need care that their parents can't or won't give them. If the parent can't, the agency tries to enhance the parents' ability. If the parent won’t, the child may be moved and placed in foster care or some other facility where they can get their needs met. There is a lot of that! An awfully lot! It is becoming more and more common as methamphetamine problems increase our area. I just heard of a case of a mother and father of a fourth and a first – grader being picked up for manufacturing methamphetamine. Those kids will have to be "farmed” elsewhere while their parents are incarcerated. There are a lot of kids out there who need help. Sometimes it is monetary, to pay for treatment or for services they need.
Basically, the kids I deal with can get the same kind of treatment that a child in need of assistance can. If they have a drug or alcohol problem we can get them help, but kids who have committed crimes need something else. "Crimes" can range from simple misdemeanors like arrest with alcohol, shoplifting, up to felony offenses. Property damage is probably the biggest number of cases I have - primarily thefts and burglary, but over the course of years, I've been involved in two cases in which children have committed murder - in one case it was the murder of a parent, and in the other, a 17 year old friend.
I am not always able to go home at night and put all this behind me. The Chariton paper once did an article about me, and the headline on the quarter-page was “Sometimes I Still Cry." There are times I go home so distraught over what happens to these kids, what they have to go home to, the stuff they have to put up with in their lives - kids going home and not knowing who is going to be in bed with Mom or Dad, never knowing if it will be safe, or if they are going to be beaten, whether there is going to be food, or if they have to go out and find some. You just want to take them home with you.
I don't know if "hardening" is the right term, but I've been able over the course of years to set it aside. You have to be able to do that if you are going to stay sane or in the job. And there are times you can't stay sane - they want so much from you, so much more. It is said now that everybody wants to push a button and have a statistic come up so they can compare how you are doing compared to somebody else. They don't take into account what you do with these people as individuals.
It's frustrating to me that I can't do the things I enjoy being involved in, because so much of my time has to be spent worrying about where I am going to get this or that service. It is also the nature of a job in a small community that people are forever stopping me on the street or in the grocery store to say, ''I'm having problems with my kids. Can you help me?" Sometimes I just need to be left alone, just forget it for awhile. People see me during the day in my office, and maybe no one is with me and it's a quiet time. They don't see me at 3:00 in the morning when I get a phone call that some kid has been picked up in a stolen car. Then I have to get up and make arrangements for that kid to be safe. It's a 24/7 job, and sometimes it really gets to you. My home is my sanctuary - or should be. Sometimes I take it home to Tony. That's when he is a punching bag. He'll sit there and say, "O.K. Start in," and I let him have my frustration. I've got to vent it on someone.
As I see it, we've got to start paying attention to the kids. Our country seems to cater to the middle class, middle age, and the opportunities for those people. We tend to not to want to put much effort into our young people, and we don't show much respect for our older people. It seems to me, we need to pay attention from birth to death. We need to be aware that there is value in each and every age category and each and every group.
One of the things we need is a good system of corrections. When somebody does something wrong, they need to be penalized for that immediately, with the rest of the public seeing it. The way our system is set up, now, it almost seems the criminal has more rights than the average citizen on the streets. And while the criminal is entitled to life, and entitled to make sure they were the one that committed the crime, we need to look at the system. We have inadequate jails and prisons. I wish we didn't have to have them at all, but we do.
We have to do something, and we need to do it well. If we do it half-heartedly, it isn't effective. Our system of correction is only half-hearted. We spend millions and millions of dollars investigating or prosecuting Martha Stewart, getting away with $40,000 or however much she got away with. Yet we have people on the street who've been dealing drugs, making meth, and all else that are impacting hundreds of people - there is something wrong with this picture! We need to invest the millions of dollars spent on prosecuting Martha Stewart in an effective correctional system for this country. We need to be aware of who is here and what is going on here, and I think we've let that lapse. I'm not opposed to immigration or naturalization of foreign citizens but we need to be paying attention to people who live in this country and take all the care of them that we can. When I say "taking care of," I mean adequately correcting them, providing adequate jobs, and living space. We are willing to bring in a lot of people to this country to save them from theirs, but who is saving us from our own?
Of the pendulum swings that I've noticed, I'd like to see a combination. We need to be caring and compassionate when it comes to our children, and we also need to be swift and just in our punishment. When kids were growing up in the 50s, it used to be "Wait 'til your father gets home.” You can't wait. Kids forget what they are being punished for. It needs to be firm, it needs to be swift, and it needs to be just. People will say, "I grounded my kid for six months, and by George, they're not going anywhere!" That's baloney, because in a couple weeks you're tired of them hanging around, and you let them go. Punishment needs to fit the crime and it needs to be just. If a kid does something and you say, "You're grounded for three days," they should be home those three days, not going anywhere. That's more effective than saying they're grounded for six months and letting them go after two weeks.
I think there needs to be adequate correction done in a caring manner. I would like to see a good combination between the two, the caring and the punitive. Kids need to know there are consequences for their behavior. All kids want structure and guidelines. They want to know what their boundaries are. They want to know what they can and can't do. They are going to test the boundaries, and if they are allowed to go beyond them, they will constantly push the envelope. That's what criminals are doing; constantly pushing the envelope, because nobody is reeling them back in, keeping them within the parameters of what is normal, acceptable behavior.
Cases usually come to me through law enforcement agencies. Police offices and sheriff's departments will investigate cases. The same burden of proof exists with a child as with an adult, which is beyond a reasonable doubt, and we advise them of their rights according to the
Miranda warnings. Parents must consent that a child under the age of 16 can give up their rights, and the police officer must proceed with a full bore investigation, just as he does with an adult. Then it comes to me for what is called "Intake." During Intake, I visit with the parent and the child, assess what has happened, and again advise the children of their rights as in Miranda. The child and parent can either choose to speak with me privately, or they can choose to have an attorney present. We visit about the crime, and I have two options at this point - to handle the matter informally, i.e., not before a judge, or formally, which means I take a recommendation to the County Attorney to be filed for a hearing in front of a judge.
My case load the last three years has run from a high of about 110 to a low of between 50 and 75. I now have Lucas, Wayne, and Clarke counties, and with the exception of some help in Clarke County from a juvenile officer in Warren, I have them by myself. It varies depending on what has happened.
There have been some incidents of personal retaliation. I've been threatened with knives and guns, I've been hit, my tires have been slashed, my windshield busted, and one day, when I was parked by the courthouse, my tail lights were kicked out. There was a bully-type father, who called me when his step-daughter was taken. He asked if she was there, and I said, “I am not going to tell you." He said, "I have something here on the seat of my truck that will make you tell me.” My answer was, "Come on down, I have something bigger that will meet you at the door."
One young man threw a pop bottle at me. It shattered on the wall behind my head, and the rest of the courthouse heard it. They began calling Law Enforcement. Not too long ago a young man in a position similar to mine was shot by one of his students in Des Moines. The situation was that the parents hired a house sitter while they were gone on a trip. Apparently the young man had gotten crosswise with the house sitter, shot, and killed her. When she was missing, a fellow-worker went to the house to see what was going on. He was killed as well. The boy took his car and ended up, I think, in Colorado where he killed himself. He was a very troubled young man.
We have become more advanced in the analysis of what happens within the brain, or the body, or the body's chemistry. The science of psychiatry has become quite an art form and there are more and more diagnoses of syndrome-type problems that result in behavior. People aren't just doing things anymore. They are doing things because they have a disorder: attention deficit disorder with hyperactivity, are bi-polar (manic depressive), or in a state of depression. There is always a syndrome or diagnosis made that fits the behavior of the person who behaves in such a manner. As a result, some (not all) psychiatrists and medical doctors feel that those symptoms and those problems can be treated with a pill - that is, they can be treated chemically. Consequently, the prescriptions for psychotropic medication become more familiar. For example, a child with an attention deficit disorder is often treated with Ritalin, which is a stimulant, and a stimulant raises the threshold of tolerance so that the child is not so easily distracted by the things that happen around him. The child then can remain more focused.
Some good can be accomplished by medication, but it can have an adverse affect. Some say, "The reason I stole this is because I am bi-polar, so if I take my medicine, I won't do it again." There are people who believe that if a person with any of these disorders is properly medicated, their behavior will be corrected. I am not a great believer in medication. I am just not. I've seen cases where medication is very effective for the treatment of some disorders. But it isn't like an antibiotic that can be taken until the person is well and it is no longer needed. These types of medication must be taken forever.
So the science of studying behavior related to the mind has advanced to the point where some believe that every single behavior can be analyzed, diagnosed, and treated through some kind of psychotherapy or medication. It becomes an excuse. It has been used in the court system as a defense, so that if the person is convicted of something, that defense can be taken into consideration in the sentencing or even finding guilt.
One recent case that I dealt with had to do with the premenstrual syndrome. (Everything has become a syndrome.) In one court case, a client was being treated for PMS and because of the elevated agitation that she experienced during that period of time, she behaved in a manner resulting in criminal charges. Come on! She broke the law! That is what I am saying. We have become so analytical: Why did this person do this? Is this a child of alcoholic parents? Did the mother use alcohol or tobacco when she was pregnant? Was this child potty-trained at a certain age, or something similar? We spend so much time going through this stuff! Instead of the plea, "I didn't steal this candy bar because I wanted it, and didn't have the money for it. I took this candy bar because I am suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder." I'd like them to say, "I stole the candy bar because I wanted it and didn't have the money for it."
We are drugging our children. As long as they are on medication that reduces their hyperactivity, they are easier to maintain. I have kids who are on four or five different medications: one to reduce the hyperactivity, one because they have difficulty sleeping, one because they can't wake up in the morning, one because they have bedwetting issues. Kids can be on such cocktails of medication that it is pathetic. Some need it, but there is something wrong when about every third or fourth kid in school is on Ritalin. I don't know if it is addictive. I think they outgrow its effectiveness, because Ritalin is also being prescribed for narcolepsy, which is when a person can fall asleep very easily - like when you are talking with them and all of a sudden they drop off. Ritalin is used to keep them stimulated and aroused.
Granted, there are cases where different forms of behavior actually are the result of a psychological disorder, but it has been so overused that everybody just kind of rolls their eyes when they hear it. In my case load, I've got children eight, nine, and ten years old who know the lingo better than I do in terms of "I'm taking (such and such) for this and I'm taking (such and such) for that." They know the prescriptions they are taking and what they are for, so their attitude is, "I have this disorder and therefore I can misbehave." That is why I feel our system is breaking down and we are being over-analytical on everything. I believe more in behavior modification, taking a behavior and changing it, rather than spending a lot of time going back and using the Freudian concepts of what impacted the youth that has resulted in their behavior today.
The drug problem in rural Iowa is increasing because people can become less visible than in a city. They can go into the country, hide out on dead-end roads, and manufacture meth. They are also using people in this area because it is fairly economically deprived and people can make a fast buck. The people who are manufacturing meth are seeing there is a way to support their habit as well make a fast buck, and not have to work too hard to get it accomplished. I asked a mother of seven children why she started manufacturing meth, and she said, "Where else could I make $5,000 out of $50 worth of product?" People who deal in drugs, however, never have a cent. They smoke, snort, or shoot it into their arms.
Interstate 35 through Osceola has become a drug route from Texas, to Kansas City, to Des Moines. Back when cocaine was the more predominant drug of choice, a lot was coming up from Mexico through Texas and into northern United States by trains or cars, and often times it passed through rural Iowa. The meth problem is happening here because the product is so available. Anhydrous Ammonia that is used in the manufacture of methamphetamines is readily available in rural areas because it is used as a chemical enhancement for farm crops. There are many products with the component Ephedra readily available in most stores. It is cooked down and concentrated to make the methamphetamine. However, you will see that many stores where it could previously be obtained in bulk are now keeping it behind a counter. An example is Sudafed. If people want it, they have to ask for it, and then it is only sold in small quantities. It used to be so available that people could legally buy cases of it. I don't know that Iowa has passed any legislation in that regard, but stores have taken it upon themselves to restrict it. Kids will shoplift the stuff. If there are only four or five packages they will go from store to store to get it. They are still getting a source somewhere.
Parent education could be an answer, because it gives people different ideas about their opportunity and responsibility. The problem is that the ones who attend sessions aren't the ones who need it, and the ones who need it don't feel obligated. You can't force attendance. Ones who attend pretty well have it together, and the ones who need it are out on the street.
I have six more years in this job before I can retire at 55. I will have had 34 years of service. In Iowa's IPERS plan, with my age plus my years of service, I can retire and maybe I'll move on to a different capacity or a different profession. I can't imagine that I will stay away from this field completely, but I want to be able to pick and choose. Tony and I want to travel. We have figured how we can be out of debt, and we just want to able to enjoy some things. I took that lesson from my dad because, when he retired at 55, everybody thought he would stay on as postmaster. But Dad wanted to get up in the morning and go to the farm, have coffee with his buddies and just do things like that. He didn't want to have to work all the time, but he was still able to provide for us. He got my brother started in farming, he and Mom paid for my college, so I didn't have any college debt when I came out. We always had everything we needed. I learned from them that you need to enjoy today because you never know what tomorrow is going to bring. That's what I intend to do and let somebody else pick up the responsibility. I've carried it long enough.
I think many in my generation are longing for that simpler time. Life is way too complex now. We've made it that way because we think we have to be in this and that, the kids should be in every sport, and everything that is happening. That is good in terms of occupying your time but I can remember when Sunday afternoon drives were the biggest thing! We looked forward to those! Lakes Rathbun and Red Rock were both being built in the years when I was growing up. On Sunday afternoons, Dad would take us on a drive around the bottoms, where the water was going to be. Dad said we could always tell our kids that we had ridden on the bottom of Lake Rathbun and the bottom of Lake Red Rock. We'd drive up to watch the progress of that. It hardly cost a cent.
I think about the kids growing up now. What stories are they going to tell? About methamphetamine and whatever else? I was so naive when I was growing up. I'd see Dad maybe have a beer once in awhile, but it was unheard of to spend days and hours in a tavern, or to get high. It was more like “Leave it to Beaver." My nephews, my brother's boys, love to hear stories about what happened and what we did when we were kids. "Tell that story about when Dad bit you on the seat of the pants," or "Tell that story about..." They love to hear that kind of stuff and I just worry about what their stories are going to be or what memories they will have.
I feel that I would have a lighter case load if Mom and Dad and the kids were living in a home, parents going to work and coming home and being a family. We've gotten away from that value. Everybody wants to do everything all the time. Our kids are over-extended with sports and music and everything they are involved in. In the summer, parents are going to 20 or 30 baseball games during the course of a month. We just need to slow down a little bit and smell the roses. We need to take stock of what is happening and have another look at our priorities.
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John Steams, referred to in Sue's story, died suddenly on June 9, 2004.
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Last Revised November 11, 2012