Jenny Allen - I Can't Get It Out of My Mind

 

 

Hello, hello. So, I sit down at my 13-year-old daughter's computer, because mine is in the shop. And here in front of me on her computer screen is her email inbox. Now, I hardly ever get to see her email inbox, except very fleetingly when I happen to be passing through the little nook in the hallway where we keep her computer, because the school has told the parents that they don't want the children to have their computers in their bedrooms. They should be in a more public and, well-trafficked zone. 

 

So, so far, I am finding that this works a lot better in theory than in real life. Because in real life, if I go anywhere near her computer, she just flings her whole upper body over it and says, "You're invading my privacy," which I am. I'm torn about this, because I have these very mixed feelings about children and the computer and privacy. I feel stuck, because I can see both sides. 

 

Anyway, she and I both know that if she doesn't want me to see what she's doing on her computer, all she has to do is hit one stroke on her keyboard. And whatever she's doing has been replaced instantly by the first sentences of her paper on The Lottery by Shirley Jackson. [audience chuckles] But apparently, she just forgot to log out last night. So, I sit there and I scroll down through her email inbox, because I just can't help it. But I don't read her emails. I don't. I don't.

 

Even though two days earlier, I've heard this parenting expert on the Today show tell the parents of America that we can read our children's emails, and we should and not in secret, he said. He said that the children shouldn't be doing anything on their computers that their parents shouldn't be able to see while standing over their shoulder. I wondered at the time if this man had ever met a teenager. [audience laughter] If he knew how much they don't enjoy having their parents standing over their shoulder, breathing down their necks. But I did see his point. I thought, well, we should be able to know what our kids are doing on the computer, shouldn't we? I don't know, I just feel very insecure about it.

 

Anyway, so, I do sit there and I read the first line of my daughter's emails, because they're right there in the subject line, right there for me to see. All the emails seem to be from her friends, and they're all very innocuous, although they're taken as a whole, they're a little schizophrenic. Like, sometimes the kids write very childishly, like, "I am so excited for Dunkin’ D's." And then, sometimes they write like gang members. They do. So strange. And here, down a ways in the queue, is a strange one. There's nothing written in the subject line. 

 

And in the email sender's address box, there are no letters or names. Just numbers, a big, long series of numbers. And I think, well, maybe this is junk email or maybe she's ordered something from an online catalog and that's the catalog order number, and they're going to charge me for something every month on my cable bill unless I take care of it right now. So, I think I could open this email. This one I could open. Be like opening a bill, which it may be, or something addressed to occupant. It's impersonal, so I do.

 

And it's a photograph. It's been taken at a strange angle. It's blurry, but not so blurry that you can't see it's been taken in a bathroom. There are tiles on the floor and a used towel down there. These two large cup bras hanging from a hook on the back of a closed door. And not so blurry that you can't see the star of the picture right there in the foreground. It is a big, erect penis. [audience chuckles] It is. And I think, “Oh my God, who sent her this photograph? It's not from a porn site, because the picture is just too bad and it's too intimate.” 

 

That organ is just right there in your face. I think, “Oh my God, is it someone she knows? Are we about to be a statistic? Is someone from the Huffington Post going to be calling our house asking for a quote on babies having babies? My baby. My baby. Who still gets the children's fare on Amtrak and still loves strawberry milk and making brownies and riding horses.” I think, “Oh my God, maybe it's a stranger, someone she's never met, who's just gotten her email address somehow.” This is so creepy.

 

So, I decide to print out the photograph. [audience laughter] I don't know why. [audience laughter] Maybe evidence, I don't know. But as I am printing it out, my older daughter Hallie and her friend Desiree stop by for a visit. [audience laughter] Now, they are both 23, and they're all grown up, and they live in Brooklyn, and they're very cool, and they're very great. I figure, well, they will calm me down somehow about this. Thank God they've come, right? I hold out the photograph [audience laughter] and I say, "Look at this." [audience laughter] And these two cool New York City girls, these girls you can't shock, say, "Oh my God." They don't know what to think either.

 

And then, Desiree says, “Oh, she remembers something. It's a fad.” She read about it somewhere. The boys are taking pictures of their private parts and emailing them to the girls. She says that those numbers in the email sender's address are actually the boy's iPhone phone number. Now, this is before we had a word for it. We didn't know it was called sexting. It wasn't called anything. It was new then. This was again some years ago. And Hallie says, "Oh, mom, it's probably just some boy she knows trying to be funny." So, I call the iPhone phone number, [audience laughter] because I want to know. I want to hear the boy's voice, the boy who thinks he's trying to be funny or whatever he's trying to be. I want him to know that I know.

 

“Hello.” It's a teenage boy's voice. I can just tell. "Hello?" I say, "Who's this?" "Em," he says, giving me his name. I have this parental urge to say, “Hey, you don't have to give me your name. You don't have to tell me anything. I'm a stranger.” But I don't. And I say, "Hello, Em, this is R's Mother." And he says, "Who?" And I say, "R. Are you a friend of hers?" And he says, "I guess. Kind of." And I say, "Where do you go to school?" And he tells me just like that. It's not my daughter's school. So, I think, well, it seems pretty likely that this is a boy she doesn't know that well. I mean, she's never brought up his name and he's never been to the house and she brings her friends over all the time. 

 

So, I think, “Well, maybe it's just like what Hallie said, ‘This boy she doesn't really know that well, just trying to be funny.’” And I say, "Well, you know, Em, the reason I am calling you is because I found your iPhone phone number on my cell phone pad and I didn't know who called me." And he says after a long pause, "Oh." And I figure he knows, right? He's putting it together. And I say, "Well, nice talking to you. Bye." And he says, "Bye," like he could have just hung up on me, right? But he's polite. He's talking to a grownup. It's just so strange.

 

So, I think, well, this is a boy she doesn't know that well who's indulging in a really disgusting fad, right? It's disgusting, but it's so disgusting that suddenly, it seems funny to me. And for the next 20 minutes, Hallie and Desiree and I just crack ourselves up about Em and his member. And just while we're laughing about this, I hear the front door open and I realize it's my 13-year-old home from school and I just panic, because I think, oh my God, I've been reading her email and I printed it out, and she's just going to kill me. I don't know what to do. And then, I think, well now, listen, just stop. Don't make it some dark, heavy, heavy thing. Just keep it light. Keep it light. 

 

So, what's my choice? The three of us are standing there with these big grins just flying frozen on our faces. [audience chuckles] She comes into the room and she says, "What?" because she wants to be in on the joke. And I say, "Honey, do you know who sent you this photograph?" And she says, "Yes. Ew, he's disgusting." And I said, "So, you know this boy?" And she says, "Barely. I met him twice. He's disgusting." And I say, "Well, what's his point really? I mean, is he trying to be funny? Does he want to be your boyfriend?" And she says, "I don't know. Ew, he's so disgusting. Why are you reading my email?" [audience laughter] But she's smiling, though, so I think she's going to forgive me, right?

 

So, for the next few days, Em and his member become this running joke in our family. [audience chuckles] We make these little remarks about what we'd say if we ran into him on the street about him and his member. I think, well, this seems healthy. We're diffusing the situation. It seems like a good idea. I even think about those fads back from when I was a kid, like when I was young, like streaking and skinny dipping at rock concerts, or mooning. Mooning was very big. I think, well, those were all about flaunting your private parts. So, what's the difference between that and sending a picture of your genitals over the internet? [audience laughter] 

 

And I think no, no, those were all just for fun, really. Those were all like group romps. This is very different. This is personal. My God, it is not all right to send a picture of your penis to my 13-year-old. I can't believe how long it's taken me to get upset and really angry about this. And I think, “Why didn't I say to Em while I had him on the phone, ‘Don't you ever, ever do that again. I will send you to jail. I will put you in juvie.’" [audience chuckles] 

 

But now, it's summer vacation and we are in the country here. I come down for breakfast, and I see my 13-year-old sitting there at the table eating some cereal, and I say to her, "Honey, were you shocked when you looked at that photograph?" And she says "Yes," just the way she'd say duh or huh, of course. I think I've been such a terrible mother. I have got to make it up to her right now for being such a terrible mother. And I say to her, "Honey, what he did was wrong, and it's an assault." And “Bye, bye" she says, and she walks out the door. She hates talks. I don't blame her.

 

Two days later, I see her at the far end of our yard where we have this old wooden swing set that we've had for a really, really long time, and she's swinging out there on it. Now, when there's absolutely nothing else to do, she does go out there and she swings back and forth, just rocking herself into a reverie. I watch her and I think, “Has she gotten that photograph out of her mind? Will she ever?” She's not telling. She just keeps swinging back and forth, back and forth. Thank you.