Secrets

 I had a case once that started as a frantic 911 call from the victim, an intelligent, educated woman with two lovely children living with her husband of twenty years in a home fit for kings.  During the call she frantically whispered, “Dear, God.  Please help me.  He’s going to kill me…he’s got a gun.  Please hurry…” 

All the while an angry male voice could be heard in the background demanding that she show herself.  His anger intensified as he yelled that he would kill her if she didn’t stop hiding.  The dispatcher heard a rifle shot, and was greatly relieved when the woman asked her to hurry once more after a few seconds of dead silence.  The call went on like that for three minutes, at which point two officers arrived and quickly took the ranting husband into custody. 

            The woman was bruised around both eyes and her tongue was bleeding.  Dark imprints in the shape of four fingers and a thumb nearly encircled her slender neck.  The children were traumatized beyond belief, having thought until moments before that they were about to witness their father murder their mother.  They were almost right.  The officers recovered a large-caliber rifle on the billiard table in the “family room.”  One round had been fired, and there were nine other bullets loaded and ready to go. 

            The husband, a professional of good and long repute in our city, had gotten drunk, and taken out some frustration on the wife because she had not gotten his salmon-colored shirt to the cleaners yet.  We later learned that he’d done this many times before.  The family had been living in hell for years, and the wife had all but resigned herself to believing she would one day die at his hands. 

            Within a week of my meeting her for the first time and learning all these details, they were back together.  She told officials and teachers at the children’s school that the police had lied to the newspaper about what really happened, and that her bruises were caused by a car accident.  She called the chief of police and the mayor and threatened to sue the entire department if we didn’t “drop the charges” against her husband.  Their neighbors wrote letters of support for the husband, telling the prosecutor in the most wonderful prose what a fine man and upstanding community leader he was.  

            Secrecy prevails in many of these instances, which is why I’ve often said that crimes such as domestic violence, sexual assaults against children, and stalking thrive in this environment.  Batterers are by and large very charming people to the outside world.  They also tend to be fairly crafty about the injuries they leave.  While it isn’t uncommon for police officers and paramedics to see damage to the eyes and face, it is much more common to find injuries underneath areas covered by clothing.  This, obviously, makes detecting the problem more difficult for friends and loved ones who might be willing to step in. 

            The result is a contract of secrecy between the abuser and the victim.  She doesn’t involve social services, friends/family, or the police and prosecutor because of shame, financial dependence, fear of retribution, or loss of her children.   He, in turn, promises to stop using violence in order to get his way and, in exchange, he provides a sense of security (albeit a false one), stability, and even some sense of hope for a better tomorrow. 

            The problem, obviously, is that this contract is non-binding, unenforceable, and hopelessly unfair.  You can’t form a true partnership with terrorists, and you don’t accept a ride across the river on the back of a creature that lives to hurt you.  These alliances, forged in secrecy and shame, are as lopsided a way to live life as can be imagined.  There can be no lasting joy or hope in an environment where you live with the knowledge that physical violence and emotional degradation is a possibility twenty-four hours a day.

            If you want to fight domestic violence and stalking, you have to attack it at the root.  You strip away the secrecy just like you would pull away old carpet to expose mold to sunlight, and then you have a chance at making a difference.  The lesson here is that when you encounter someone trapped in a relationship like this, you do what you must to help her see that nothing can change until they confront the secret.   

            This pattern of keeping secrets and of continuing to live in an unhealthy environment is often referred to as Battered Women’s Syndrome.  Simply put, Battered Women’s Syndrome occurs when a woman is so entrenched in living this self-destructive lie that she can’t imagine living life any other way.  I’ve never met a crack cocaine, methamphetamine, or heroin addict who wasn’t entirely aware of the fact that the drug was killing them and that they needed to stop, but addiction, by its very nature is a difficult thing to conquer.  I submit that addiction to another human being, including or maybe even especially, one that is destroying you, is as hard to break as the obsession of heroin or cocaine. 

            Battered Women’s Syndrome exists, and its existence makes talking a person living in this pattern into getting out extremely difficult.  A mother, police officer, co-worker, friend, or therapist is going to get a lot of “yes, but” answers when trying to urge a domestic violence victim to take action. 

• Yes, but, he’s really a good guy.  He’s just under a lot of strain. 
• Yes, but, he’s only violent when he drinks.
• Yes, but, he would just find me and hurt me worse if I left.
• Yes, but, he has all the money.
• Yes, but, he’s a good father.
• Yes, but, he promised it would never happen again.

            Suffice it to say that when you encounter a woman who is actively living the secret of domestic violence, and whose mind is so brainwashed that she is a poster child for Battered Women’s Syndrome, you’re probably not going to talk her into taking effective action to change her predicament in one or two heart-to-heart talks.  No, something dramatic almost always has to happen.  Maybe it’s an arrest, or maybe it’s her little girl whispering that she’s scared of daddy, or maybe its injuries so severe that hospitalization is required. 

Eventually there may come a time when the flimsy walls constructed to maintain the secrets fracture and fall.  That is the moment for a best friend, a sister, father, or maybe a social worker, nurse, or police officer, to quietly, firmly, and with loving resolve let her know once more that they are there for them, and that they will do anything they can to help her out of her miserable hole.  If you’ve learned what you can about all her secrets and excuses, and if you know what services and options are available, you’ll be ready with answers and options when her “yes, but’s” start back up. 

This is the essence of unconditional love and forgiveness, and if you are watching a loved one die a long, miserable death from domestic abuse, it is exactly what she’ll need from you if she is to survive.  Let her know once and then a hundred times more that you’ll be there when she is ready to expose the secrets and change her life.   

A Word On Gender and Bias

A reader who suggested I was being a bit unfair in my use of pronouns reflecting that men are generally the batterers and women the victims politely admonished me recently.  In a fair world, she’s right.  In my career, I have to be fair.  Each investigation starts from the neutral position and works toward the truth based on the evidence.  It is unfair and sloppy police work if I walk into a home and accuse the man of being the bad guy based solely on the fact that he is male.  It would be no different than if I accused a black man of being the suspect in a burglary based solely on the fact that he is black.  I assure you, I would not do either as a police officer. 

As a blog writer, however, I choose to focus more on violence of men against women.  If you are likely to get up in arms about the fact that these postings have little discussion dealing with male victims of domestic violence, please close the window now because these pages will likely not suit you. 

Not that there isn’t violence perpetrated against men by women.  I bear a scar on the inside of my upper lip from just such a woman.  She was tiny; no more than five-two, one-hundred pounds with clothes on.  She was also angry, as I should have surmised by the fact that she’d just tried to kill her husband by smashing an air conditioner window unit on his head. 

            The problem, it seemed, was that he refused to engage with her, as a sexual partner, as a business associate, or as her husband.  Oh, he was her husband all right, but he’d given up completely on the idea of participating as such in any manner, preferring, I suppose, to simply existing at the same address as her. 

            This made her homicidal one evening, thus the attack with the Sears B500 Iceberg (or some such) rendering him a bloody, pulpy fellow still reclined in his favorite chair, but much the worse for wear. 

            Enter young rookie officer Williams, gung ho, confident in my abilities to assess the situation and bring matters into successful control.  It became clear after a time that she’d done what she did, and there was nothing for it except to make an arrest.  The fact that she kept shouting, “I wish I’d killed you,” was what we call a clue in law enforcement, and as two EMT’s worked on keeping the husband’s face from falling off, I went to make the arrest. 

            Mind you, I had participated in some form of martial arts since high school.  The hand-to-hand combat training at the Academy had come fairly easy to me because of that background, and I outweighed her by at least eighty pounds. 

            Pride cometh before a fall, and my fall came when this angry, ignored pixie hit me so hard in the mouth with a telephone that I know, I know my eyeballs switched places for a moment. 

Mouth blood went everywhere, and her husband feebly pointed at me in a “see, I told you,” fashion.  She clawed at me like a cat in a bathtub, and the EMT’s stared in shock as I finally wrestled her long enough to get her handcuffed—which didn’t stop her from continuing to try to bite, head butt, and kick my shins all the way out to the car. 

Where was my senior partner, you might ask?  Laughing his ass off. 

I eventually almost forgave him. 

The point is I am fully aware of the fact that some women are violent and dangerous, and it doesn’t matter if they are tiny and cute.  They can kill you, and that is why every allegation of domestic violence must be thoroughly and fairly investigated before blame, arrest or conviction takes place.  That having been said, the vast majority of all physical attacks in the home involve a male as the predominant aggressor, and the female as the victim. 

At this point in any lecture I have ever given on the topic, someone raises his hand to point out that the numbers are probably skewed in light of the fact that men don’t report domestic violence as often.  The reasonable and honest answer to that comment is that women don’t either.   Some women don’t report because they don’t want their neighbors to know; some don’t because they are living in the U.S. without documentation and they’re terrified of deportation; many don’t involve the police because they’ve been threatened with their very lives if they do so; others because the man who would go to jail is the only breadwinner in the family and the choice of getting beaten up on occasion is an easy one to make over homelessness.  There’s lots of reasons, all of which we’ll discuss, but be clear from the outset that people of both genders, different sexual persuasions, all races and cultures, and at every level of financial income avoid making formal complaints in these matters. 

Cage Fight In The Kitchen, however, is primarily about physical and emotional abuse of men toward women, and I have no apology to offer for that.  Now, that’s going to make a bunch of folks just silly with indignation.  I hope they are able to get over it.  Men tend to be more violent and persistent in their attacks than women.  Women are six hundred percent more likely to be attacked by an intimate partner, and a current or former intimate male partner is the perpetrator in approximately forty percent of all female homicide victims.  Furthermore, husbands, boyfriends, or former male partners commit nearly thirty percent of all rapes and sexual assaults*.  So, if you want to write a blog about the oppression of men by aggressive women, get to typing.  I’m going to primarily stick with this topic. 

The truth is all that matters at work, and the truth is all I want to speak of in these pages.  As always, thank you for reading and commenting. 

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* U.S. Department of Agriculture:  Safety, Health and Employee Welfare Division 

Protection Orders--Do They Work?

Restraining/Protection Orders

Action is the antidote to despair.

Joan Baez

"A restraining order is just a piece of paper," some say. "It can’t stop a bullet or a knife."
Yep, they’re correct when they say this. I’ve never held up a piece of paper, be it a protection order or the U.S. Constitution, when threatened with bullets or bladed weapons, but I can tell you that restraining or protection orders save lives.
The biggest reason for this is that most people actually abide by them, and the small percentage of people who don’t can generally be effectively dealt with if, but only if, the law enforcement agency of jurisdiction respects the order and enforces infractions. Think of it as a crime prevention tool.
In short, a restraining or protection order is an order from a judge clearly telling one person (the Respondent) that he or she is to leave another person (the Petitioner) alone and to not make any attempts to be near that person. The order usually specifies places where the Respondent cannot go such as the Petitioner’s house, place of employment or school. Petitioners generally get protection or restraining orders at the municipal or county courthouse in the area where they live, and in some states police officers have the authority to grant them temporarily. I recommend calling the local police department or prosecutor’s office if you’re not sure where to request such an order in your area of the country.
Driving by the Petitioner’s house while screaming profanities and making insulting finger gestures has always fallen into the area of offensive actions, as have phone calls and letters. In the last few years, we’ve also seen lots of cases involving e-mail and cellular phone text message harassment.
Regardless, contact is contact, and it is my opinion that even text messages warrant action on the part of the local law enforcement agency if the Respondent sends such a message after having been served with a lawful order. Some would say that a text message or e-mail is no big deal, but in many cases a sent e-mail is merely a test by the Respondent to see what the "real" boundaries are. If the Petitioner responds back, even to curse him and tell him to leave her alone, a dialogue has begun. If the Petitioner doesn’t tell the police about the infraction, the Respondent knows that the boundary has been moved back from what the judge set. "Absolutely no contact" has now become a "little bit of contact." From there it is a simple matter to try to move the boundary again with a phone call. If she engages in his conversation and doesn’t tell anyone that the Respondent has broken the protection order, again, he now knows that yet another boundary has been set.
It progresses to a phone call, letter, or text message in which he begs for a meeting so he can tell her all the things he has done to correct his behavior. If she agrees to a meeting, he will tell her about getting baptized the night before, how he’s set up an appointment with a counselor, how he hasn’t had anything to drink in four days, and how lonely he has been without her.
Every relationship experiences tension, but sometimes in dysfunctional relationships that period of tension culminates in violence and an aggressive display of control to reestablish subservience. Very often that period of controlling violence is followed by what is referred to as the Honeymoon period during which the batterer makes lots of promises, goes to great lengths to make up for their "loss of control," and eventually convinces the victim that he will never hurt her again.
One of the great values in restraining/protection orders is that they short-circuit the honeymoon period and allow a period of time for the victim to get her head on straight about what she wants out of a relationship, whether she truly wants to be involved with the person who just beat her up, and what options and resources she has at her disposal so that she can get on with her life.
However, if the Respondent successfully moves the boundaries set by the court order, and he is eventually able to use all the manipulative charm he can muster, it is highly likely that he will convince her to come back and start the whole cycle all over again.
Even if that is not the case, if she truly has set her mind that she is not going back to him, the very fact that he is getting away with additional contact is unbalancing. The Petitioner took the time and committed the energy to ask a court to help her keep a person who has hurt her and frightened her away. If the Respondent ignores the court order and continues to make contact without any repercussions, how confident do you think she is going to be in the strength and authority of the court and local law enforcement?
Law enforcement officers need to look at protection order violations as direct insults to the criminal justice system. Without losing our tempers or challenging the Respondent to pistols at dawn, we need to feel a sense of disrespect toward our badge and to the law each time we hear of an infraction. This type of violation calls for action because action on the part of law enforcement sets the judge’s court order in concrete and makes the boundary absolutely clear.
Aggressive enforcement action is generally all it takes to re-establish the legal, correct boundary. Most people learn the lesson quite well after one arrest. Sitting in a jail cell for a few hours has a way of clarifying one’s priorities and setting straight how important it is to leave the Petitioner alone. I’ve said before that an arrest can be a blessing, certainly in this instance for the victim, but also for the Respondent in that it may stop him from carrying on in a way that will get him popped later for something more serious such as a Residential Burglary or a Stalking offense. Let’s put this in the category of "tough love," and move on.
Now, every once in a while you’ll have a guy that won’t learn his lesson easily. One arrest doesn’t do it, and maybe three or six won’t either. This is a very dangerous fellow. Ignorance or testing limits is one thing, but this type of offender is telling the world he doesn’t give a damn about judges, police, other people’s safety and security, or anything else for that matter. People like this are extremely controlling and narcissistic, believing themselves better than and above the law and the needs of others.
This personality is like a leech in that he will gulp down huge quantities of time, manpower, and the victim’s sense of well-being. He will try souls and fray nerves. He will smile at the time of arrest and blame everyone but himself when he bonds out.
And he will very likely end up damaging or killing the victim at some point if he is not stopped. Don’t take this offender lightly. Complete disrespect of lawful orders, especially on the heels of enforcement of said orders, is a huge red flag for danger.
Professional, responsive police agencies work hard with this group, disseminating information and photos of the suspect to all officers, providing heavy extra patrol at the victim’s home and place of employment, requesting warrants for more serious offenses when they apply, and dealing closely with the prosecutor and service agencies to make sure everything that can be done is done.
I’m a firm believer in Restraining/Protection Orders. They are effective in the majority of cases in getting one person to leave another alone, allowing time for the cycle of violence to be disrupted and hopefully replaced with a more positive, safe life pattern. They only work if police agencies don’t use them as a bluffing tool, so enforcement is critical when offenses occur. One arrest is generally all it takes, but repeated challenges to the order must be met with repeated enforcement. It is far better to prevent the crime, but aggressive enforcement of these valuable court orders can mean the difference between life and death, freedom or continued enslavement.
　

Shelters--A Safe "Base"

Shelters

A guest never forgets the host who had treated him kindly.

Homer

When we were children, we all played tag, and in most cases there was a designated place to catch our breaths known and respected by all as "Base." For thirty seconds you could hang onto a specific tree limb or place your foot on a particular rock, and the "It" person couldn’t tag you. Not that he wasn’t waiting ten feet away for you to come back off the safety zone so he could tag you and change the dynamics of the game in his favor. It was great fun, but it was also part of our socialization, a safe way to exercise, laugh, and in some way learn that even the hunted have methods of getting away and finding safety. Whether you’re trying to escape an oppressive regime by fleeing to another country, get to a building as lightening explodes all around you, or find a safe place where a man who just threatened to kill you can’t get in, the concept of shelter is universal.
Caring people have staffed every shelter I’ve ever dealt with, predominantly but not exclusively women, who go to work every day with the intention of helping people find Base and stay on as long as resources allow. Some shelter workers don’t trust cops, some love us; some hate all men, but some know that their clients have come away from relationships with the worst exceptions and not the norms for my gender. All of them have the advantage that they don’t have to be primarily concerned with things like due process of law and listening to the other side of a story. Their sole purpose is to provide safe haven for a person who has been beaten in his or her home, and the children who have been physically and/or emotionally abused themselves in that same household.
The responsibility extends beyond just immediate safety needs, however. Most shelters also provide counseling so that a battered woman can begin the process of healing from all the psychological trauma she has endured, and perhaps learn within herself why she felt the need to stay with such a vile human being for so long.
Shelters generally try to provide some level of financial support or job hunting assistance so that a victim isn’t forced to make critical decisions based solely on whether she will be able to feed and house her children. Many provide transportation, giving rides to court dates and doctor’s appointments, shuttling kids to schools, and going to apply for jobs. Some shelters even offer refurbished used cars donated by members of their community so that former victims can take even more control over their own destinies. Remember that batterers often control things most of us take for granted such as transportation, communication, and finances, so the ability of an escaped victim to earn her own paycheck, drive around town to do her own errands, and speak to friends and family as she wishes is huge. This is freedom, and shelters are in the business of helping people earn those freedoms back.
Shelter staff members often assist clients with legal paperwork so that critical processes such as protection or restraining orders, divorce petitions, or immigration documentation can get rolling. Many shelters now even provide access to free legal advice from local attorneys who have graciously volunteered a certain number of hours out of their own schedules in order to contribute to the cause. Legal matters are scary, and having someone around to explain and help wade through the process can be extremely empowering.
Regardless of the services provided, staff members in shelters are vigilant and protective, if nothing else. I hold an image of them as sentries on castle walls, calling down to demand the business and identity of travelers approaching the gate, more than willing to rain down hell on any barbarian impudent enough to try to breach their little fortress or endanger their charges.
I was once dispatched to a shelter after one of the social workers called to report the presence of a suspicious duffle bag on the driveway. The shelter had received a call from the husband of a woman who had been admitted into the facility a few hours earlier. She was a mass of bruises and bite marks, and her children reported watching as their father raped their mother and beat her around the house. They were already traumatized by the time this man figured out where they were and began what could only be described as siege warfare. He was ready and willing to wait outside her "Base" for as long as it took, and to use any tool at his disposal to make her come out early.
He’d been in the military, and one of his first tactics was to call the shelter and say he would be leaving them a "little surprise" on their driveway if his wife and children didn’t come out immediately. The shelter worker wouldn’t even acknowledge that his wife and children were in there, much less make a commitment that they would walk outside into his treacherous hands.
So he left his surprise, a red duffle bag that he made a show of holding up for all to see before gently placing it on the driveway within ten feet of the building itself and then driving away in a flurry of squealing tires, honking horns and profane threats.
The shelter staff dialed 911 and told our Dispatch personnel that the man had left the bag, that he had been a munitions expert in the military, and that he had a history of extreme violence. There was no other reasonable judgment to make than the man might have left a homemade bomb by the shelter, and I wondered if he was really cruel and desperate enough to blow up his own children.
Now, I don’t know one dang thing about bombs except that I don’t want to be around when one of them blows up. The only bomb squad in our area was about fifteen miles north of the shelter that day, and they had already gotten word that we needed them to respond immediately. In the back of my mind I sort of hoped they would be able to travel their fifteen miles and get there before I arrived, despite the fact that I was maybe half a mile away at the time. I knew that wasn’t going to happen, though, and so as I drove to the scene I began planning the evacuation of the shelter and a nearby apartment building, blocking off roadways, getting the fire department to respond, calling the Department of Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms and FBI to help with the investigation, and decidedly not getting blown up in the process.
Right about the time I turned the corner to view the shelter building, however, I saw Cpl. Phil Crosby reaching down and picking up a red duffel bag from the driveway. Phil is a large, tall man, simultaneously goofy and cool, as patient as any cop I’ve ever known, and either intensely brave or remarkably stupid.
I guess it was just brave, because the bag didn’t blow up, and he looked up smiling and holding the thing out to show me like it was a big fish he’d just caught. "It’s just rocks," he called out to me, and I went from an adrenaline pumping machine to one relieved, slightly shaking, giddy cop.
Phil had been an engineer in the military before his law enforcement career, and he’d kept up his skills by doing a National Guard assignment. He’d been in combat in Iraq, and at the time of this incident he was slated to go back. He was, to say the least, not impressed with the duffel bag. He’d seen the real thing over in the desert, and somehow he just knew it was a bag of rocks. He never told me how he knew, and it was obvious he took great pleasure in my simultaneous pride and discomfort in his save-the-day move. I honestly admire the hell out of Phil and while I stood there deciding whether to punch or hug him, all I could do was shake my head in wonder at his courage, or bone-headednesswhichever way you prefer to look at it.
What was the shelter staff doing at the time? They were doing their job, and doing it quite well. Obviously no one could leave because the maniac might have been hiding outside waiting to snatch his wife or children the moment they fell for his decoy duffle bag, or he could very well have been out in a nearby tree line with a rifle waiting to get revenge on the woman who had "ruined his life."
Staff members got everyone to the side of the building opposite the duffel bag, and then moved tables and heavy objects to create even more of a barrier between their clients and the primary source of danger. Some read to children, others soothed the women with fraying nerves, and every one of them stayed calm and supportive during those tense moments. I’m sure the staff members were as frightened as any of the clients, but they maintained a cool demeanor and kept everyone safe. I wouldn’t have expected any less, but that doesn’t diminish the heroism and calm they demonstrated that day, and I suspect those women, children, and I will never forget it.
Because of the secure nature of shelters, most don’t allow people to simply drop in without a screening process. Access to a shelter generally comes after a battered person or a person who is in danger of being attacked makes a phone call to the shelter and talks to a staff member. The call might also come from a police officer looking for sanctuary for a victim, or from a hospital trying to find a safe place for a patient they are expecting to release soon.
Regardless, the shelter employee will ask several questions to ascertain the severity and sincerity of the situation. It is not unheard of that a stalker will send a sister or adult daughter into a shelter pretending to be a battered woman in order to get close to the fleeing wife or girlfriend or confirm that she is actually there. This, of course, is rare, but it is a concern for shelter staff members. The privacy and safety of their clients is of paramount importance, and they guard against treachery every minute of the day.
Shelter staff members won’t even confirm to me that a woman is one of their clients unless the woman takes the initiative in contacting me. I often call a shelter and ask them to pass along my contact information to a victim I’ve heard is there. I know the shelter will not confirm that she is, in fact, their client, but I am confident at that point that the woman will get the information she needs to contact a specific person at the police department who is interested in her case. In most instances that is all that is necessary for a frightened victim to come forward and start availing herself of police services. We may never hear from her, but at least we’ve reached out through shelter staff.
Once the shelter employees are confident that they are dealing with a victim (or potential victim) of domestic violence, they will offer shelter and services if bed space is available. Bed space is a big issue because it is a rare time when there is enough space to meet the needs of any particular region. Victims are turned away at times, and there is nothing more frustrating or frightening to have to tell a woman with children that there is simply no safe haven for her there. Sometimes clients are sent to motels or to other shelters. Sometimes they are given bus fare so they can at least get out of the area. Regardless, it is a less than optimal choice that is often thrust upon shelter staff members.
In many cases, however, the victim is welcomed in and provided a host of services. One of the primary goals of any shelter is to create an environment in which the clients can choose their next step in life based on information they can learn about how unhealthy a violent lifestyle is to them and to their children. They are given information about how to secure long-term housing, financial assistance, protections afforded them through the criminal justice system, and other options and services that could help them change their lives dramatically.
I’m told that staff members rarely get down to serious talks of counseling, life planning, and tackling tasks such as job hunting and legal issues for two or three days after most women arrive. This is simply because most women sleep and walk around in a haze for that time period. Some haven’t felt safe enough to sleep well in years; others must simply get through the raw emotions and realities associated with the fact that their lives may have just changed forever in a dramatic, bridge-burning manner. It’s a lot to take in, and it takes time. Professional shelters make allowances for that.
Some victims do change their lives. Some go back to the man who drove them into shelter in the first place. Regardless, for that brief period in their lives they were safe and given time to breathe. A shelter staffed by conscientious people who have dedicated themselves to protecting and empowering those who have suffered from abuse in their own homes was their "base" for a time, and sometimes that is all a person needs to get back into the game of life.