Play it safe
Recent rape demonstrates need to stay alert and cautious
LORI ROBISON is a senior
news-editorial major and
a Daily Nebraskan colum
nist
Earlier this month, a tall man in his
late 20s stalked the walkways of a
Lincoln apartment building around 9
p.m. on a Thursday before knocking
on the door of a single woman’s apart
ment.
After telling her that his car had
broken down, the stranger asked the
woman living in the 1200 block of
Arapahoe Street if he could use her
phone.
Perhaps this particular 30-year-old
woman knew what it was like to be
without a vehicle on a cold Nebraska
winter night Perhaps she sympathized
with this man’s problem, remember
ing a time in her life when people who
didn’t know her or owe her a thing
extended themselves to her in a time
of need.
In fact, the stranger was probably
betting on it.
Because after the door was shut
behind him and he found himself
inside the home, he brandished a
knife, dragged her to the bedroom and
raped the woman in her own apart
ment.
Now, this story plays itself out
thousands of times a day in the United
States. Crime surveys estimate a rape
happens every few minutes. And,
according to the FBI’s Unified Crime
Report statistics, the rate for reported
rapes has increased 65 percent more
than the general crime rate in the last
10 years.
But officials are quick to point out
the increase of reported sexual crimes
are just that - an increase in the
REPORTING, not necessarily an
increase in the occurrence of the
crime.
Moreover, many studies show vio
lent crime on the decline. The Census
Bureau’s National Crime Victim
Survey reported 140,000 rapes and
attempted rapes in 1992 but maintain
that the rate of rapes has remained
fairly stable over the last 20 years.
Some officials blame the media, a
readily available and visible scape
goat, for inflating the general popula
tion’s fear of violent crime.
Commentators point out that nearly
twice as many people die in car acci
dents every year in the United States
than are murdered, and studies report
people who watch too much television
experience more fear about crime.
But despite these assurances that
society’s fear of violent crime is
overblown, the fact that this woman
experienced firsthand just how unsafe
this world can be - and that she
learned this horrific lesson only yards
from my own apartment, where my
daughter and I sat watching reruns just
a few doors down - is still a bit
unnerving.
It’s not even the frequency of vio
lent crime that fills some with dread,
because it doesn’t actually happen that
often. It’s the fact that it does happen;
and in the relatively small circles my
life has taken me, I’ve met too many
people of all walks of life who have
endured the violent expressions of a
few disturbed people.
Ana l know in my neart tnat l
probably would have greeted this
stranger’s knock upon my own door in
much the same way as my neighbor
did. I cannot deny that I regularly
leave my door unlocked in the day
time.
And having been raised in a big,
East Coast city, I should know better.
Perhaps it’s too easy to get lulled into a
false sense of security in this 96-unit
apartment building, where people are
almost always around, going about
their business, where the apartments
all face each other and a central court
yard and the walkways are always fair
ly well-lighted.
Perhaps having lived in this area
for most of my adult life, I’ve become
somewhat comfortable with this city’s
small-town feel and relatively low
crime rate. And despite Lincoln’s
shortcomings, perhaps I had even
come to feel safe here, and realize
what a good place this town really is to
raise a kid.
But after a plain-clothes detective
showed up at my building the follow
ing Saturday showing only a bland
sketch of the suspect in hopes that
someone would recognize him, the
reality of how close this violent attack
came to me slammed home.
After having once been a victim
myself and now, a survivor, I knew
m AM
what I had to do. I had to realize that
no matter how comfortable I may
become with life, no matter how much
I may want to lend a hand to a stranger
in trouble, the world still is and always
will be a potentially dangerous place. I
had to accept the fact that safety is not
something we can take for granted,
allowing our attitudes about it to
become lax.
That night, I sat down with my
daughter after the detective left and
explained a few things about what it
meant to be a woman in our society. I
had to tell her that as a young woman,
she must take precautions most men
normally don’t have to worry about. I
had to tell her that she should
ALWAYS remain aware of who and
what is around her, now and as she
grows older - in the daytime, night
time, whenever. She will have to rely
on her best judgment when going out
with acquaintances in the future and
be careful of where they take her and
with whom.
Now, she’s been told all this
before, too many times to count. She’s
heard the speeches about not answer
ing doors when I’m not in the room.
She’s been told not to talk to strangers
on her way to and from school as well
as the rest of the whole nine yards of
safety tips.
But this time, I think, that talk and
its implications seemed a bit more
firmly set in reality for her too.
Because another fact of life is that
kids don’t always do what they should
or what they’ve been told to do time
and time again. The fact is that kids are
too trusting, and haven’t learned the
lessons that hopefully come with
adulthood about carefully choosing
the people they can and cannot trust.
And so, while trying to avoid fill
ing her with paranoia, I admit I did
want to scare her just a little. I wanted
to get it through to her - and to myself
- that no matter how complacent in
our safety we may become, we must
remain just a little vigilant.
No human being can live for long
in constant fear. Our world demands
that we function, and that we go out
once in a while and earn a living. Our
nature is that of a social animal, and
we must have some kind of meaning
ful interaction wjth^otherjgpa^psin
order to flc*i$ij&
mentally. ill
But the truth of this wojdd i? that
not even a child can indulge in unbri
dled innocence for long. The truth is
that we MUST at some point rid our
selves of at least some of that inno
cence in order to feel safe and never,
NEVER, become too complacent or
too comfortable if we want to live long
enough to fulfill our dreams.
And a bigger, more difficult truth
is that even if we do attain caution and
maintain it consistently, we are offered
no guarantees of safety, no assurances
that we won’t forget and open the door
for that stranger with a knife or that
forceful, violent acquaintance.
That’s just life, and it’s no joke.
A show of respect
Before time runs out, let loved ones know just how important they are
KLAUS MARRE is a senior
broadcasting major and a
Daily Nebraskan colum
nist
Last Saturday my uncle died. He
was in Germany, I am here in Lincoln,
and this fact is killing me. Every day
since then, I have stared at the phone,
tempted to call a travel agency to get a
flight home.
I am not used to members of my
family dying; it has not happened since
I was a little kid, but since
Thanksgiving I have lost two relatives,
my uncle and a great aunt, who have
meant the world to me. Both times I
- -
was not there for them to comfort them
in person, and this adds to my pain. I
know that they both would not have
wanted me to interrupt my education
to fly to Germany, but I can’t help but
feel that I have betrayed them or let
them down in a way.
Some people suggest, the phrase
“carpe diem,” to seize the day, and live
life at its fullest as if every day was the
last. Today I urge you to treat every
other person as if it was their last.
There are so many things that were
left unsaid between me and my uncle
and my great aunt, and I would give
anything for the chance to let them
now how much I loved and admired
both of them. Just one last time I would
like to hug them and say my farewells.
I am an atheist and don't believe in
life after death, and this means that I
will never have die chance to tell than
these things. They will remain unsaid
because I let opportunities slide by,
disregarding the future and being fix
ated on the present.
Faced with death in my family for
the first time since early childhood, I
have decided that I will never go away
from loved ones for any considerable
amount of time without saying a prop
er farewell.
I am not talking about a sentimen
tal “It has been nice knowing you” type
of thing, but rather, I want to let my
family and friends know how much I
care for them and what they mean to
me.
This might sound silly to some, but
if you were to know what has been
going through my head these last few
days, or if you would even be able to
look at my face while I am writing this,
then you would understand.
I remember the times when my
uncle would play the piano for my
family on Christmas. He was a very
gifted musician, and I have been in awe
of his talents. I loved his deep voice
and the stories that this voice told me
when I was a kid. There are so many
little things that I will remember him
for, and I guess that in this way he will
live on as a part of me.
It is impossible for me to describe
how I feel about being so far away
from him when he died. It is a mixture
of guilt, denial and loneliness.
Guilt, for not having held my
uncle’s hand on his deathbed, for not
having been able to tell him directly
how much he has meant to me.
Denial, because it has not really
sunk in yet that the next time I’m going
home, neither he nor my great aunt will
be there.
Loneliness, because I have never
felt as displaced in my life. Right now,
I don’t belong here. I should be with
my family and not paying my respects
by writing about him in a college
newspaper.
His death has also made me aware
again that family members share
bonds that are much stronger than a
similar genetic code. Just like a part of
him lives on with me, a part of me died
with him on Saturday.
Right now, I’m looking at a picture
of my uncle, and I simply can’t believe
that he is gone. He wasn’t even looking
at the camera; it is a photograph of him,
repairing a camera with the very same
and talented hands that he used to play
piano with. It is incomprehensible to
me that I will never, ever see him again.
Another thing that really bothers
me is that 1 am not just physically
absent from die funeral to pay my last
respects, but I am also not there to sup
port my family - my aunt who lost her
husband and my mom who lost a
brother. Hopefully they are holding up
all right
The passivity of being here, sever
al thousand miles and seven hours of
time differential apart from them, is a
true torture. Right now, my mom might
still be awake in Germany, remember
ing one of those stories about her
childhood - like the one when my
uncles made her jump from a diving
board, which I used to love hearing -
and I am not there to comfort her.
Because of not believing in any
kind of afterlife, I will not make a
lengthy dedication to my uncle and
great aunt at this time. I’d rather dedi
cate these words to all of my family
and friends because they mean the
world to me and I would be nothing
without diem.
