Six Year Old and "Breasts & Behind" Terrorists?

[Dave Farber <dave () farber net>]

This is the last for a while on this . I added this one because I believe
she said it all. 


-- 

"They that can give up essential liberty to obtain a little temporary safety
deserve neither liberty nor safety."  - Benjamin Franklin Historical Review
of Pennsylvania 1759



------ Forwarded Message
From: David Geerinck <dgeerinck () att net>
Reply-To: David Geerinck <geerinck () gsbalum uchicago edu>
Date: Sun, 05 Jan 2003 21:44:31 -0500
To: dave () farber net
Subject: For IP? Six Year Old and "Breasts & Behind" Terrorists?

Dave,
 
While I do not necessarily wish to prolong the "Homeland Security" thread, I
am coming to understand how important it is that all of us understand what
is being done in our name.  In this case, the airport treatment of a six
year old boy.  While I can understand the need to "check out" all that our
flawed electronic sensors single out, I do take exception to how it is being
done (disclosure - I, too, am the father of a six year old boy).  As if this
were not enough, now we have Homeland Security "Agents" working to sense
threats to our nation by running their hands over the bosoms and behinds of
that same six year old's mother (after she had successfully passed through
the security checkpoint) - "because you touched him" was the explanation.  I
am concerned that at some point in time we will become to resemble that
which we ostensively fight against.  And like the proverbial fish in the pot
- we may not realize what is being lost until it is too late.
David

David Geerinck
geerinck () gsbalum uchicago edu

 
This article comes from the LA Times, and can be referenced at
http://www.latimes.com/news/opinion/commentary/la-vo-stewart4jan04,0,7442783
.story?coll=la%2Dnews%2Dcomment%2Dopinions

Father of Our Country Wouldn't Recognize It

By Sally Stewart
Sally Stewart is a public relations consultant in Santa Monica.

January 4 2003

It was the first day of our holiday trip to Washington, D.C., and my nephew,
Jordan, and I were listening to the docent at Mount Vernon tell us about how
George and Martha Washington entertained their guests with card games and
served meat pie. "Does anyone have a question?" she asked. Jordan did. How
long ago did Washington live here? "Well, he died in 1799, so how many years
would that be?" the docent asked.

I didn't think Jordan, 6, would be able to do long subtraction in his head,
so when he answers, "203 years," the docent and I clapped. "That's a long
time ago," I said to Jordan, whose hobby is music. "Back then, they didn't
have CD players."

"Yeah, they just had tape decks," Jordan said. Well, no, I explained. Back
then, they didn't have tape decks or even radio or TV. "Then what did they
do for fun?" he asked. I told him they rode horses and went fishing maybe.
Or they wrote letters and played instruments and generally lived without
those things that are so normal to us. "Things have changed," I said. In
Jordan's world, which is Southern California during the second millennium,
life is constantly changing. Computers, CD burners and microwave ovens have
always been at his disposal. He can't imagine living any other way.

Fast-forward to a week later.

We are lugging our knapsacks through Dulles Airport. We reach the checkpoint
metal detectors. Jordan races through one. When I join Jordan on the other
side, a security worker is directing him to stand in a cordoned-off area
"over there" because the machine beeped when he walked through.

In Jordan's world, getting sent "over there" is akin to his first-grade
teacher writing a misbehaving child's name on the blackboard, which means 15
minutes docked from recess. "You can go stand with him," one of the men in
the blue blazers says. I rub Jordan's arm to comfort him and say, "You
didn't do anything wrong, sweetie."

"You touched him," the man in the blue blazer says. "Now we have to search
you too."

They wave a metal-detecting wand over Jordan and when it beeps, the man in
the blazer asks if he has anything in his pocket. Jordan pulls out a tissue.
The wand beeps again. Nothing else in his pockets. It must be the brass
rivets on his jeans.

Jordan is free, but he is still visibly shaken. I am angry. "You scare a
6-year-old half to death," I say, "and then when I comfort him, you need to
search me?"

The lady tells me that she'll be touching my chest and rear end, but not to
worry because it will only be with the back of her hand. Her disclaimer
doesn't make it any less creepy when she starts patting my bosom and asking
about the composition of my underwear.

On our way back to California, Jordan writes a list of the things we saw
that are different from our regular life. The snow. The Potomac River. No
electricity at Mount Vernon when Washington lived there.

The search at the airport doesn't make Jordan's list. And then it strikes
me. Mount Vernon is foreign territory to him, with its lack of CD players
and even tape decks. But an army of airport employees who search a
6-year-old boy -- while momentarily frightening -- is so normal that it's
nothing to write home about. But I remember a time before tape decks. So I
can imagine living at Mount Vernon a whole lot easier than I am able to come
to grips with our government employing people to search children for
weapons. I make a note to someday tell Jordan that change is hard.


------ End of Forwarded Message

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