Have I rescued the child of Satan? (*A tale for anyone who doesn’t have a “perfect” dog)

 

By Mary Kay Roth

Soaring through the air, my tennis shoe hit my living room wall with an angry thud, landing right next to my terrified puppy, Pip, who cowered underneath the table.

“Pip, you’re not my dog, you are the child of Satan," I sobbed, "and I’m taking you back to the shelter.”  

It was a dark evening, several months ago, I was exhausted and exasperated, almost at the breaking point with this then seven-month-old mutt. 

In my defense, sure, I’ve posted cute pictures of Pippa on my Facebook page.  She looks so darned adorable.  

But this dog is a terror.

Even though I’m savvy enough to hide my best stuff, she manages to chew through shoes, lunchboxes, bras, rugs, pillows, quilts, books, chair legs.

When I get ready to take a shower, she waits for the exact moment my clothes hit the floor, nabs the closest item and goes revving off to hide her incredible prize. Which doesn’t seem so bad until a guest visits your home, sits down on the couch – and your underpants are tucked beneath a pillow.

Yes, I’ve tried crating her, but she totally freaks out. In our last attempt she managed to scoot a sizable crate across the room, pull down a coat rack, tug my best jackets into the crate and chew them to shreds. By the time I got home, her nose was bleeding from endeavoring to squeeze through the bars.

Yet, when I tried leaving her loose and on her own, she busted and escaped through a screen window, and I returned home to find her frolicking in the backyard.

And, holy moly, when she wants to come inside, she has learned to climb onto the 2-inch-wide ledge underneath our picture window, stand up on two legs and precariously plaster herself against the glass. Mind you, the first time she did this the neighbors texted to see if everything was ok. “We’ve never seen a dog do that.”  

Of course, I haven’t yet addressed the greatest challenge. This dog is scared of nearly everything: trash cans and tree limbs – electric mixers and fans – carwashes – planes, trains and automobiles – suspicious bags of mulch and the sound of Velcro – printers, brooms, geese, umbrellas, thunder – the wind – anybody she doesn’t know. 

Regrettably, whenever Pip is anxious, she howls and barks, endlessly – with zest, fervor and persistence.  

My wise and gentle veterinarian explains that Pip is a “reactive dog,” which means she over-reacts to normal situations, frightened of the world. Often nothing traumatic has happened. Some dogs are simply born that way.

“Yes, reactive dogs can be incredibly challenging,” the vet confirms, trying to soothe my tattered nerves.  “But when they finally trust you, when you start understanding them, they can be such sweethearts.” 

In truth, by the time I threw the shoe and hollered at Pip on that god-awful night, I was worn down, in tears and ready to give in.  But after the shoe toss, Pip came crawling out from under the table, her body drooped in shame, then lay her head on my lap and sighed. A deep, sad sigh.   

And in that moment, something shifted that night.  Hugging her tighter than I ever had before, I made some sacred promises to my puppy: 

1. No more shoes, anger, threats. 
2. I would seek out some help.

S-O-S and hallelujah, in the coming weeks I did find the most amazing, super-duper dog trainer named Jim.  Admittedly, when he visited our home for the first time Pip barked at him for two hours.  But by the second visit she adored him as much as his bag of treats and his toolbox of magic advice.

“She’s such a love," Jim tells me. "You need to get inside her head, grasping how it would feel to be afraid of the world, helping her find her calm – helping teach her to self-soothe.” 

“And you can always call if you are losing it,” he whispers at the end of each session, leaving behind a list of rock-solid tips and, perhaps more importantly, a bundle of hope.  

Nowadays, whenever Pip gets scared, I hold her close and assure her the world is safe.  She has learned to sit, lie down, spin, high five, recall, shake hands (and we’re working on playing dead). We practice 180-degree turns to get a better grip on walking together. And we’re tackling the fine art of eye contact.  Indeed, I can now place a treat on her paw and she’ll leave it there until she looks up to get the thumbs up. 

Thankfully, I’m not alone in this endeavor.  Neighbors all around us – whom she barks at incessantly – are now armed with treats to coax Pip closer. Wonderfully willing friends stand outside my front door, sometimes endlessly, while we teach her to calm – before any guest is allowed to enter.

Nevertheless, let me be completely and abundantly clear: This is not a tale of instant miracles. 

At 10 months and still growing, Pip’s hazardous tail continues to wipe out dishes and whack down children. 

Yes, a basket of chew toys has eased her destruction, but lately she’s captivated by felt tip pens. Every day, several times a day, she charmingly denies stealing any – until I pry open her mouth and check out her technicolor tongue. Gotcha. 

Now almost 70 pounds of muscle and zero self-control, she nearly pulls off my arm on walks.  So, to slow her down, I use what they call a “gentle lead”– though she’s gnawed away six gentle leads (and counting).  I swear she hunts them down just to destroy them.

And if she gets loose, generally by shimmying out of her harness – beware – she dashes and darts in huge crazy loops with wild abandon. On her last great escape, I only nabbed her because she paused to poop … and I tackled her.

Pip simply seems incapable of avoiding trouble. There’s no wishy-washy bland in this dog’s soul.  

She wants to romp with every canine we meet on the trails but gets so super-charged she terrifies them. And when she finally overcomes the fear of a human, she turns to extreme and absolute adoration, overwhelming them with doggy embraces, nips and licks.  

Strolling down park paths, Pip will happily trot beside me, then unexpectedly yank in a totally different direction – “squirrel” – as we attempt to ignore the inevitable parade of elegant dogs that obediently follow their masters and never disobey. 

Well, that’s not my dog.

My dog, in her many lunatic moments and for no particular reason, will suddenly whiz and bounce around the house, leaping over furniture, roaring about corners, knocking over everything in her path – then dive-bomb onto my lap and tip her head back so I can stroke her under the chin.

My dog loves the smell of flowers, until she eats them, and confidently attempts to pick up sticks that are four times her size.

My dog still barks at almost anything that moves, especially squirrels, bugs delivery people – in truth, everybody who comes to the door – and, most outrageously, her evil nemesis, Smoky the neighborhood cat.

And when I wake up in the morning, my dog is generally draped on top of me – at least until she spies the light of dawn and thunders out of bed in anticipation of a sunrise walk.  

Pip is a hound who bounds through life with unbridled passion – with a heart so big it spills over with joy. 

Turns out, I guess, she’s not really the child of Satan.  

Pip is mine.     

 

 

A Few of Our Favorite Vacation Sites and Sights

We’re Not in Nebraska Anymore
by Marilyn Moore 

Traveling to Africa had been a dream of mine from my days as an undergraduate history major, which included a course in African history.  I wanted to see it; I wanted to see it all.  “All” is a pretty big word when it comes to Africa, so I narrowed that scope to “African land, sky, plants, and animals,” over the course of several decades.  The opportunity came in 2013, when I traveled with a group of about twenty adventuresome folks, led by John Chapo of the Lincoln Children’s Zoo, to the Okavango Delta in Botswana. 

On our first morning out and about in the lush and gorgeous meadows and marshes, I noted that much was familiar; it kind of looked like and felt like the river bottoms of Nebraska, with abundant trees and shrubs and grasses, occasional deer, a warm and humid feel to it.  That’s how my brain works when confronted with something new; I try to link the “new” to something familiar, to understand what I’m seeing.  Then, after several miles of meandering, we rounded a curve, and there they were, a pair of giraffes, perfectly posed, like they were waiting for us.  They weren’t of course; we were just an interruption in their morning routine.  But it was a wow moment for me.  I could only say, “We’re not in Nebraska anymore.”  Days and days of wondrous sights were before us; none would surpass this moment. 

*****

China
By Mary Reiman

 Thanks to my friend Susan, I had the opportunity to walk on a section of the Great Wall of China. 6,443 miles from my usual walking path.

 China, a country I thought I would only ever see through the eyes of National Geographic photographers or the History Channel. 

And the highlight of the trip...looking into the pits of the terracotta army. Wrapping my head around the fact I was standing among sculptured figures of soldiers, chariots and horses, buried with the first emperor of China, Qin Shi Huang, in 248 BC to protect him in his afterlife. The pits were found by local farmers near Xi’an in 1974. They had been buried for 2000 years. Yes, 2000 years!

 Approximately 8,000 terracotta soldiers created with amazing specificity, including a variety of facial expressions, headgear, hairdos, costumes, armor, belts, belt hooks, boots, and shoes. Seeing them in photographs is fabulous. Watching a television special about this discovery was impressive. Seeing them in person was almost beyond belief. An incredible journey.

*****

The Intimacy of Wonder
By JoAnne Young

I fill myself with ocean sights for the long stretches I spend without them. The waves, the soft sand, the milky horizon and the rising and dipping sea birds … and that something-something in the salty, always present ocean breeze – they take away my mental discipline and empty my head. My favorite coastal views are 2,500 miles apart: La Jolla, California and Ponce Inlet, Florida. I know there are more stunning shorelines, but I also have family connections that add to my devotion.

In La Jolla (La HOY-a), tide pools pocket the craggy beaches, where the pounding surf has worn down rock and hard sand. I once met a green crab there who had been pushed from a high tide into a shallow pit, along with sea plants, debris and other tiny creatures. It was her strange world and I watched as she stared back at me, then darted under a tiny ledge, then returned to lift a tiny claw at me.

That’s the thing about the ocean. You can live moment to moment there, mesmerized by the wonder of its colors, textures, movement, patterns, rhythms, and the miles and miles of nothing but space where the blue yonder meets the breach of sea.

In Ponce Inlet, I’ve seen manatees and dolphins and even collected a sea heart, a red heart-shaped seed pod from the flowering liana, that makes its way on ocean currents carried from Central America. The sea heart bobbed along up to a year before it was plopped onto the sand where I spotted it, barely visible and scarred ever so slightly by its perilous journey.

I love the places that invite intimacy, that I can visit again and again to get to know more deeply each time and take in their wonder.     

*****

There’s No Place Like Home
By Penny Costello

There are a lot of places in the world I have yet to see, and I do hope to see them before I’m through. I’ve had the pleasure of living in the Sierra Nevada Mountains, in Colorado, in Minnesota, and here in Nebraska. And I’ve found much to love and appreciate about all of those landscapes.

But I’m a mountain girl at heart. And that started with my great good fortune of being born and raised in the Black Hills of South Dakota. The ranch I grew up on was ten miles north of Rapid City, and eight miles east of the foothills. I gazed upon them every day. To the north, I could see and feel Bear Butte, or Mato Paha to the Lakota, a long dormant volcano that juts up out of the prairie and is sacred to the Cheyenne and Lakota People. I grew up not only seeing but feeling those mountains in my soul.

My grandmother used to drive us kids through the hills, showing us where our grandfather would drive his cattle in the summer to graze. Once in a while, my mom would say to me with a twinkle in her eye, “Let’s go play tourist!” And we’d spend the day driving through the hills, visiting attractions, and loving that time together.

My memories are filled with time spent camping with family, and hiking with my friends. And as I got older, I learned about the complex history of white settlement of the area, the displacement of Native tribes that had been there for thousands of years, and the spiritual power and significance of that place.

As a high school exchange student in Germany, I got to see parts of Bavaria and the Austrian Alps. The Alps were amazingly beautiful. Yet, even while I was there, I yearned for home.

The highest point in the Black Hills is Black Elk Peak. At 7,242 feet, it’s the highest point east of the Rockies and west of the Alps. And I marvel at how lucky I am to have had the experience of viewing the world from all three of those vantage points!

But there really is no place like home. Whenever I drive through those ancient, beautiful hills, my soul is recharged, I reconnect with my history, memories, and sense of self that only comes from standing on that sacred home ground.

*****

A Tale of Frogs and Galaxies
By Mary Kay Roth

As a golden sun set over Merritt Reservoir, those frogs took us by surprise.

My children and I had spent the afternoon in a canoe on the Niobrara River belting out “Singing in the Rain,” paddling through gentle showers on our final vacation day after a week’s loop through South Dakota. Late afternoon, just as the clouds parted, we landed at Merritt to set up camp, grill out and relax as dusk settled around us.

That’s when Joshua and Anna discovered the frogs, lined up in startling, long straight rows along the shoreline.

Skipping and leaping upon the beach with complete abandon, the two kids (probably six and eight at the time) chased the critters, hopped among them, found toy buckets to gently collect them.  And as I sat atop a picnic table to watch, the tender night turning dark, their giddy fervor was infectious.

You know, I’ve seen the Taj Mahal and the Northern Lights, hiked the Cinque Terre cliffs of Italy, gone swimming in the phosphorescent pools of the Caymans.

But when I think of one moment of vacation, I always go back to Merritt and that inexplicable, overpowering sense of joy. 

Later that evening, as the embers of our fire died away, we set the frogs free and looked up into the darkest of nights and the brightest of stars, my children gazing into their own galaxy for the very first time.

Eventually, exhausted, we crawled into our sleeping bags, listening to the quiet. Until one small child’s voice broke the silence: “Do you think the frogs will still be there in the morning?”

 I hugged them close.  “You never know,” I said, “you just never know.”

*****

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Exercise Your Rights...

by Mary Reiman

I am writing this on Right to Read Day, April 8th. 

Ballots for early voting were mailed today also.

Especially this year, these two events are closely tied together.  Having the right to read and the right to vote are two most important components of our democracy. 

As we move into May, it is more important than ever to exercise your right to READ. 

Whether you learned to read with Goodnight, Moon or Go, Dog, Go or Dick and Jane (yes, they are still in publication), you entered into the land of learning and thinking. Now you have the opportunity, some would say the responsibility, to use that power to vote. 

READ. Begin with one of the 97 books on the Moms for Liberty (M4L) list. They want these books removed from school libraries across the country. M4L has also been instrumental in the attempt to criminalize librarians and teachers for providing books they find offensive or obscene. Offensive how?  Obscene because they address feelings and experiences of others? Or offensive because they open minds, help us think, reflect and perhaps become more compassionate?

Read The Hate You Give by Angie Thomas OR Girls Like Us by Christine Alger OR Imbeciles by Adams Cohen OR The Tenth Circle by Jodi Picoult OR Sisters/Hermanas by Gary Paulsen OR Brave Leaders and Activists by J. P. Miller OR any other title from the list. Yes, THE list. The nationally known list.

Read, and be ready to defend the right for libraries to have these books in the collections. The right for youth to check out these books, to see themselves and their situations reflected in the literature. The right to know they are not alone. 

Unfortunately, the challenges will continue. This is a national movement to silence authors, publishers, librarians, teachers. Yes, a national movement and they are NOT going away. For example, The Moms for Liberty have an agenda behind their private Facebook page. Learn more about them. Watch the 60 Minutes interview with their founders. Be informed. 

M4L membership requirements include being ‘a person of good moral and ethical character who subscribes to the values in the bylaws.’ The group, formed by three mothers in Florida, now have chapters in 45 states with the following bylaws: 

A. We hold decision makers accountable or we work to replace them with liberty-minded individuals. 

B. We spread awareness and an understanding of the limited role of government. 

C. We stand together against government overreach and intimidation tactics. 

The first quote on the M4L website is from John Adams. “Children should be educated and instructed in the principles of freedom.” I believe President Adams was thinking of the freedom to read when he wrote that sentence. He also said, "Liberty cannot be preserved without a general knowledge among the people."

Yes, I have many questions about what liberty means to them. What is the definition of liberty-minded individuals? And, is it not considered intimidation when they threaten librarians and teachers?

During their 2023 annual summit in Philadelphia, one of the group’s co-founders stated that Moms for Liberty will use its political action committee to engage in school board races nationwide, including the elections of state school board members and superintendents. They spent their first two years inflaming school board meetings with aggressive complaints about instruction on systemic racism and gender identity in the classroom. They are now expanding their strategies to overhaul education infrastructure across the country.

After the offensive statements by Senator Halloran in the Nebraska Legislature on March 18th, LB441 did not pass. The vote was 30-17. Yes, 30 senators voted to pass that bill. 30 senators were willing to pass a law to criminalize educators and librarians. Did they know there are already policies in place giving parents the right to determine what their child may read? Another parent might find it is an appropriate title for their child. A parent simply does not have the right to say that no child should have access to the book. That is what the freedom to read is all about. 

I doubt the senators read any of those books. Nationally organized groups have created lists and taken one sentence or paragraph out of context to demonize the entire book as obscene. I am sorry the senators did not have time to have book groups, perhaps with members of their communities, where they would read the entire book and then discuss the value of each title for the purposes of helping students see themselves, or those they loved, reflected in the literature. I would have been happy to be part of a book discussion with them. 

It is now Thursday, April 11th, and one of the headlines in the Lincoln Journal Star today is: Librarians fear harsh new penalties. Nebraska is not the only state whose lawmakers are following a push for retribution of those who do not follow their agenda. Missouri, Utah, Idaho, Arkansas, Indiana. No, that is not by accident. This is a concerted effort across the country of those who want to limit the freedom to read. Those who want us not to think...just follow their truisms. 

So it is imperative that we READ and then...VOTE. 

Know the candidates’ views of book banning and censorship, especially those running for the State Legislature and the State Board of Education. 

Four districts in Nebraska will have new state school board representatives. Four voices of reason are retiring. Districts 1, 2, 3 and 4. Know the backgrounds of the candidates, and who the major contributors to their campaigns. It is important to learn their political agendas on public education and the freedom to read. 

Kristin Christensen is the State Board of Education candidate from District 1 (Lincoln). She is a parent and teacher, a voice of reason, a voice who will listen to her constituents. She also has the endorsement of the current board member from District 1, Patsy Koch Johns.

There is an agenda of negativity and censorship bubbling up in this country. It is on the rise and if we do not stand up against it, if we do not vote, we cannot wring our hands later, appalled and overwhelmed by the lack of literature available to meet the needs of our youth. 

If there was ever a time to rise up, it is now. Talk to your friends, your children, your grandchildren. Remind them of the importance of voting, now more than ever. 

Thanks to Vicki Wood, retired Lincoln City Libraries Youth Services Coordinator, for allowing me to share these words from her presentation to the League of Women Voters on April 4th.

"We believe 16-year-olds are mature enough to drive around 5000 pounds of metal, hold jobs that require responsibility and judgment, and play in sports that may damage them physically. However, we don’t trust them to read a novel that contains difficult topics, and sometimes sexual scenes and know that they will integrate these experiences with books into the understanding of the world. A world which also involves their family values, the movies and television they watch, the video games they play, and all of the sex-based consumerism and advertising, TikTok, YouTube videos, and literally tons of other Internet content they come in contact with every day. 

People who seek to limit access to books both overestimate the power of books to “indoctrinate’” and underestimate a young person’s ability to synthesize information and develop an understanding of themselves and their world. I can think of no safer space than the pages of a book for a kid to explore the human experience.”

Exercise your right to read AND your right to vote. 

Words to the Wise (Women)

By JoAnne Young

If you want to insult a woman, call her a prostitute. If you want to insult a man, call him a woman. 

 

Gendered insults, it’s the way linguist Amanda Montell gets our attention in Chapter 1 of her book: Wordslut: a feminist guide to taking back the english language.

 

It’s true, isn’t it? If a woman does something someone doesn’t like, the go-to insult is  frequently related to prostitution or her sexuality. The throwdown for men is that they [fill in the blank] “like a girl.” 

 

Language is the next frontier that needs to be conquered in equalizing genders, Montell says. 

It can tell us about the nature and extent of the inequality of women, linguist Robin Lakoff wrote 50 years ago. Women experience discrimination in the way they are taught to use language and the way language treats them, she said. It’s used to keep them in line from the time they are young girls, taking away their right to express themselves strongly and denying them access to power. 

 

Author Percival Evertt said it this way: In language, and in ownership of language, resides great power. 

 

Power. Control of our own lives. Our own bodies. We are still struggling from centuries of limited power and limited control. There are people now – politicians, lawmakers, judges, influencers, swaths of the influenced – who would drag us back into the dark ages, who would decide how we should behave, spend our time, walk, talk, dress, and wear our hair. 

 

Sticks and stones may break your bones but, as many scholars will tell you, words actually can hurt you. The link between language and culture is forever entangled, Montell says, and continues to reflect and reinforce power structures and social norms. The time has come, she says, to challenge how and why we use language the way we do. That means questioning the words we speak every day. And the words used, even when someone thinks they are being supportive. 

 

This happened just last week at a hearing at the Nebraska Legislature in which Sen. Machaela Cavanaugh spoke to the Executive Board on her resolution to censure Sen. Steve Halloran because of his inserting her name into his reading during debate of a segment of a book in which a young woman was being sexually assaulted.  

After her testimony, Board Chairman Ray Aguilar said, “I just want to thank you for your courage and your composure today under some very difficult circumstances. I’m proud of you.” 

 

Thank you for your composure? I’m proud of you? Would he have said that to any man in the midst of a hearing? 

 

Let me say to Sen. Cavanaugh what I would rather have heard him say to her: 

I just want to thank you for your powerful words.

I just want to thank you for your strength in standing up for people subjected to sexual assault.

I just want to thank you for your persistence in believing elected officials should be held to a higher standard of dignity and integrity. 

 

The Legislature’s Executive Board, which did not forward Cavanaugh’s censure resolution to the full Legislature for a vote, is made up of 10 members and only one of them is female: Sen. Julie Slama. 

 

Buzzing around the internet, I came across a site listing 29 words only used to describe women. These will sound familiar to a lot of you. Abrasive, bossy, bitchy, bubbly, ditsy, frigid, frumpy, high maintenance, pushy, breathless, hysterical, shrill ... that’s fewer than half of them. 

 

Women are often criticized for “being emotional.” Emotions, by the way, serve important purposes and are normal responses that all humans have. They are not a form of hysteria, a word first coined by Hippocrates, the founder of Western medicine. It’s from the word hystera, Greek for uterus, because he believed women’s wombs induced “a lack of control and extravagant feelings.” 

 

I think about Anna Cox, a woman who lived in Pawnee City at the turn of the 20^th Century. She was 33, with six children, ages 4 months to 11 years old. Her husband divorced her, saying her behavior had been erratic for about nine months. He took custody of their children and dropped her off at the Nebraska Hospital for the Insane, now known as the Lincoln Regional Center. 

 

They diagnosed her with subacute mania, even though upon her arrival she spoke rationally, was controlled, quiet and even cheerful. Over the next few years, separated from her children, family and friends, her medical records showed she was known as an excellent worker, even if sometimes “a bit incoherent” and at times had outbursts. 

 

She remained at the asylum 43 years, from 1904 to her death in 1947 at age 75. In those times, other women found themselves in the same predicament, with no rights, brought to asylums for hysteria and other acts of defying domestic control, which were commonly diagnosed as abnormal and therefore a mental disorder. 

 

Christine Blasey Ford (you remember that many of us were glued to her words in 2018 as we watched her testimony about the former president’s Supreme Court appointee Brett Kavanaugh) has turned the phrase "I believe you" on its head. 

 

Those words, said Blasey Ford on the podcast We Can Do Hard Things, are only said to a woman reporting an assault or rape or harassment. “I don’t think we say it for anything else other than sexual assaults, or maybe domestic violence.”

 

We don’t say it to a man who has reported being a victim of a crime. 

 

The underlying question when someone says “I believe you” is whether the woman is believable, whether women in general are trustworthy, Glennon Doyle said. 

 

 I will leave you with this, a word from author Ben Montgomery: Cloistering. He was talking to writers, but I would give this same word to women. 

 

Find a sect, a fortress, a coven of those who are like-minded with whom to dwell in the dark times, he said. Find your people and take care of them. Stick with them. Genuinely love them. Learn from them. Write them letters. Swap stories on barstools. Nurture and sharpen one another. Do not be exclusive. Others will come in search of what you have found. Invite them in. Cheer them on. 

 

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Dear Senator Halloran...Did You Read the Whole Book?

 By Marilyn Moore

Dear Senator Halloran,

I wonder….did you read the whole book?  You know, the book Lucky, by Alice Sebold.  The book from which you read on the floor of the legislature, the book that begins with a detailed description of a brutal rape (I wonder if there’s such a thing as a rape that isn’t brutal…), a rape that Alice endured, and survived, when she was 18 years old and a first-year college student.  Because you inserted the names of senators into your reading of that passage from the book, essentially demanding oral sex from Senator Cavanaugh, your speech went viral, Nebraska Nice sounds like hypocrisy to the nation, and the Legislature’s Executive Board is considering a resolution to censure you. That will play out in some way over the next few days, and whatever the outcome of the censure motion, you will complete your term and return to life as a citizen, with the new role of “retired legislator.”

It's the book I want to address.  Lucky is a memoir, a book based on the writer’s memory of her life.  It’s not fiction. It was first published in 1999.  Copies are available in the Lincoln City Library collection, where there’s a waiting list, and in high school libraries in many communities, including Lincoln.  Based on the description of that rape, found on the first ten pages of the book, which was indeed hard to read and hard to hear, and without a doubt a thousand times harder to experience, you labeled the book “obscene” and said it should not be in school libraries, that children needed to be kept safely away from such obscenity.  Such a conclusion to be drawn after reading only a few pages of the book….

Had you read the entire book, you would have read the rest of the story...the impact of this assault on Alice’s relationship with her parents, and her older sister, and college friends, and future male friends and romantic partners.  You would have read about her experiences with law enforcement officers and medical examiners and mental health providers immediately following the rape, and the judicial system for months to come.  You would have read about the people who stepped up to support her, especially her writing professors, and those who just couldn’t, or wouldn’t. You would have read about moments of sheer terror that overtook her for years to come.  You would have read about bouts of drug and alcohol addiction.  You would have read about people who didn’t want to be around her, because she was “that girl, the girl who was raped,” and people who wanted to be around her because she was “that girl, the girl who was raped.”  You would have read about the decades of effort that it took for her to emerge as whole, and healthy, and the writer that she is.  But I doubt that you know any of this, because I’m pretty sure you didn’t read the whole book.

You described the book as “obscene,” and a how-to guide for boys on raping girls.  Oh, my, Senator, what an absurd statement.  First of all, most boys don’t want to be rapists.  They don’t plan to be rapists. They don’t have “rape an 18-year-old virgin in a tunnel” as one of their life goals.  Second, for those who do, they do not need a how-to guide.  For all of human existence, men have raped women, in every millennium, on every continent, in every culture, before wars and during wars and after wars, at professional conferences and in workplaces of every kind, in homes and parks and cars and churches and schools, on city streets and country roads…men have raped women.  They have not needed a how-to guide.  The perpetrator’s actions may make readers uncomfortable, but that doesn’t make the book obscene.  Those behaviors are described in every crime report taken by a local police officer, they are a matter of public record, they are reported in local newspapers, and they are testified to, under oath, when assailants are charged and tried.  

But what I find most troubling about your statement is that it is totally devoid of understanding that this scene, this brutal rape, was Alice’s real life.  This happened to a young woman, and she describes all the terror she experienced.  She describes what she did and said in order to live to see the next day.  Her fright must have been beyond words….but she found words.  Did you acknowledge that?  Her feelings, her emotions, her terror, her determination?  Her courage?

And it’s because of that, her courage to describe what happened, and all that happened in the aftermath, that I believe firmly that this book should be accessible to teenagers.  You see, what Alice experienced wasn’t something that happened to her and her alone.  You probably know that sexual assault is one of the most under-reported crimes; according to the Bureau of Justice Statistics, two-thirds of rapes and sexual assaults go unreported.  The Nebraska Crime Commission reports that 788 forcible rapes were reported to law enforcement agencies in Nebraska in 2023.  Given the likely under-reporting, it’s not unrealistic to think that nearly 2400 forcible rapes happened in Nebraska in 2023.  That’s 2400 people who experienced what Alice experienced, nearly all of them were women.  Closer to home, 6 forcible rapes were reported in Hamilton County, your home county, in 2023.  If the same under-reporting is true in Hamilton County, there were more likely to have been 18 forcible rapes.  Eighteen people in Hamilton County endured what Alice endured, just last year.  And it’s likely some of them were teenagers.

Every high school counselor, every high school principal, every school nurse, every school social worker, and yes, every high school librarian, has most likely at one time, or many times, known a student like Alice, a young woman, sexually assaulted, fearful, angry, uncertain, hurt.  Some, like Alice, can tell their parents.  Some cannot.  Some, like Alice, are able to report it to the police; some cannot.  Some, like Alice, are assaulted by a person unknown to her, a stranger; most will have been assaulted by someone they know, a family member, a friend of the family, a trusted adult figure (think coach, or priest, or camp counselor, or teacher) or a boyfriend, who she is trying to please.  Some will tell a trusted person at school; some will become known to the trusted person at school because rumors start, whispers happen, and a counselor soon knows that someone like Alice needs help.  And part of that help can be knowing that it was indeed awful, and frightening, and not your fault, and that you are not alone.  

You see, Senator, had you read the whole book, you would have heard the relief in Alice’s voice when she learned that Mrs. McAllister, a woman in her hometown church, had been raped when she was eighteen.  In her words, “Mrs. McAllister gave me two things: my first awareness of another rape victim who lived in my world, and…the proof that there was power to be had in sharing my story.”

So there you have it, Senator, in Alice’s own words, and in the words of every survivor of sexual assault that I have known, the reason this book needs to be in libraries, available to teenage readers.  There is power in story, there is power in knowing you are not alone, there is power in knowing that you can survive. I hope you will take time to read the whole book, and I hope that you will acknowledge and affirm the strength and bravery of women like Alice who survive and who share their story, so that others may survive, also.   

(Afterword:  Yes, I know that the man who was convicted of the rape was exonerated in 2021.  This person served 17 years of a hellish prison sentence.  The fact that the wrong person was convicted does not make the trauma that Alice experienced any less severe, and it means that whoever did rape her is still unidentified.)  

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