The next door neighbor: Another sad tale of Pennsylvania child abuse

The author writes from Camp Hill and grew up in another part of Pennsylvania. The Patriot-News is not using her name in order to protect the identity of the alleged victims.

Frankly, I am sickened by this whole Jerry Sandusky “thing.” I am the victim of a child predator, but on a much smaller scale. The impact that a respected individual had on my life has me only imagining what Sandusky’s actions did to all these young men.
My story began with my best friend’s father asking me, out of the blue, to call him “Uncle Bill” because he was only 33. I was 9 years old, roller skating past his house and had no desire to call him Uncle Bill or anything else. I recall thinking, “What?” I was taught to address my elders as Mr. or Mrs.

Bill’s son, who was my age, found a wrapped condom at our local high school. This presented a wonderful opportunity for Bill to teach his daughter, son and me the facts of life. He drew pictures of female anatomy, put the condom over the bathtub spout and filled it up and shared with us his vital information. We were all under 10 at the time.

Several days later, Bill said to his daughter, “Tell your friend what we did last night.” When she wouldn’t answer him, he told me that he had “taught her where her vagina was by inserting a finger.” He graciously offered to do the same for me, taking me into the bathroom and putting Vaseline on his finger. Thank God he stopped when I told him that I didn’t want to. He said not to tell anyone because they wouldn’t understand and he could go to jail.

Bill and his family moved shortly thereafter. He would invite one of my brothers and me to the new house for sleepovers. My mother never understood why I didn’t want to spend the night at my best friend’s house.

We went several times. Bill would offer to wash our backs in the bathtub. I often wonder how his wife never caught him.

We moved out of state for several years, and when my father was transferred back to Pennsylvania, I prayed that Bill would die before I got there. Amazingly, he did die in a car crash.

This supposedly upstanding father who attended church every Sunday and sang in the choir and was known to my parents, who made me fearful of any man who so much as winked at me, was dead.

The experience forever changed me.

When I grew up and began dating, I always had my guard up. One young man said he “liked to pinch his nieces’ butts to make them scream and run away.” He was gone. Another said he “liked my innocent look.” Gone.

Later on, I ran a day care. A child who came to my day care was supposedly injured in her private area when falling out of bed. It happened not once, but twice. I immediately told her mother that is highly unlikely to happen and that she should take a close look at everyone in contact with her daughter. This girl was never injured in that way again.

I decided to speak out because we never truly know what someone is like behind closed doors.

The fact that someone treats us well, smiles a lot, pays his bills on time and has us over for a hamburger now and then over five, 10 or even 20 years doesn’t mean he doesn’t crave bizarre and unusual things.

Before the media spotlight moves on from the Sandusky case, put yourself in the place of these poor, troubled victims.

A child’s mind has trouble comprehending that an adult would betray them.

Trust your instincts. Watch over your children and those around you. Maintain open lines of communication. No subject should be off limits between a child and his or her parents. I wish I had felt able to speak up when I was a kid and prevent Bill from harming anyone else.