Candidly, I write this column in solidarity with all you parents of teenaged children who are growing up in the permissive society of Spain, or for that matter anywhere in Europe. Just in case you thought that you were alone in trying to cope with a lifestyle where your children expect to go out late at night, and to stay out until 10am the next day, let me assure you that you are not alone. All throughout the land there are dim lights turned on in solitary rooms as anxious parents wait up, unable to sleep.My generation were expected to be in the house by no later than 11 o’clock at night. Later than that and don’t bother coming home, ever again. I always felt hard done by, as did all my mates as we were certain that all the action started after eleven. And it did, because the next day you got a blow-by-blow account from the older guys. (I'm sure they made up half of it.)
We felt that our fathers, and especially our mothers were too hard on us. They did not allow us any freedom, and they did not trust us any further than they could see us. Of course they were right, but we didn’t appreciate it at the time. We were sixteen and fully grown men, or so we thought.
What we did not understand was that we had to survive the growing-up process. We are like the turtles, in that not all who break through their shells and make it to the surface of the sand get to make it to the water. Of the ones who make it to the water, not all make it across the ocean, and of those that do, not all the females will make it back to the beach to lay new eggs. Relate this to the world of people and it becomes clear that one only gets to celebrate one’s seventieth birthday as a result of a lot of very good luck, a guardian angel who works overtime, and by making a lot of good decisions. Teenagers don’t always make good and sound decisions that are in their own best interests.
The permissive society makes it very hard for both parent and child, and a permissive society with rising expectations is worse. It is difficult for the parent who tries to keep their child under strict control, and it is also very hard for the child’s social stature among their peers. The child who is overly-protected is treated as a geek and teased unmercifully. Yet, it’s wrong that young people are free to roam the streets all night. Should something dire happen to your son or daughter in the wee small hours, and you are not expecting them home until 10am, how will you know that something is amiss?
Recently, one parent received a call from the emergency ward of a hospital to say that his son had been brought in by ambulance, having been found in an intoxicated and collapsed state. Following a urine test it was determined that the intoxication and poisoning was due to alcohol only. Following a stomach pump and several hours on a drip father and son were allowed to go home. If you must receive such a call, this is as good as it gets. However, having said that, acute alcohol poisoning can and does kill.
This tale does, however, have a kicker. The child’s wallet had been lost or stolen, and he lay for several hours, firstly in a car park in the open air with cars driving around, and later, he lay in that hospital bed as a “Patient Unknown” person. Were this a different circumstance and he had died, how would his parents have found him? By calling the hospital and giving his name, and asking whether he had been admitted would most likely have brought forth the response, “no one here by that name.”
On one Saturday night in Valencia at a bottle party, fourteen young people ended up in emergency as a result of being attacked and stabbed by a roving gang of neo-nazis. I wonder how and when their parents were informed.
So, here’s a suggestion to all you worried parents: If your son or daughter insists on being out till the very early hours of the morning, it will help if they would carry some form of alternative identification with your contact details. Normally all our ID is in our wallets. Once that is gone, unless we have a friend to give our details we become anonymous. Perhaps something as simple as a wristband or pendant, or for the boys the army-style “dog tags” would do. If you are in Torrevieja there is a static market that borders the parking lot at the port. Look for stall 126, and Michael, a very helpful young man will engrave your name and home telephone number on such identification.
It perhaps does not bear thinking about, but I’m certain that there are statistics that tell of the number of people who get taken to emergency as unknown patients, and worse, as corpses every day in the large cities of Europe. At least here in Spain we all normally have some form of identification with us. Apparently, the average person will have at least two forms of picture ID, a driving license and resident’s card. It’s sobering to think that in the U.K. most people walk around every day without one single piece of required ID.
Parents! Do you know where your children are tonight?
Copyright (c) 2007 Eugene Carmichael
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