Doug Pugh

Let’s have a party.

We’ll invite people we’re comfortable with and throw a party we can take home after it’s over, continuing the relief from a lack of rhythm, and the wrong turns and false starts by performers who pop wheelies off slippery surfaces.

We should invite both young and old, but none too young and none too old. The determination of who’s too young should be ours, as we’ve been there and made the mistakes necessary to judge; however, the determination of who’s too old should be left to them, as longer perspectives may be needed.

But no matter how old or young our attendees, we only need two things to put this party over the top: diversity and a Queen.

Diversity from people of different locations and persuasions, folks from Ossineke, Chicago, Rogers City, Lear, Los Angeles, Minnesota, and other far-off places. Do you know anyone from Sioux Falls?

We’ll need variety so we can learn from horse’s mouths, not from bubbles emanating from rabbit holes.

The Queen? Do I mean Elizabeth? Yes. Why?

She was what some aspire to be: a Royal, and because she was, she attracted the world’s attention. But it was her adherence to decency that earned our adoration.

Though our party invitation can no longer reach where the queen now is, we could use her example as our party’s theme– the dignity of simple decency.

Let’s go with that.

In Michigan, the age of criminal responsibility is 10; it used to be 7. That age range varies from state to state. In the federal system, it’s 11. A child who has not yet reached that age is presumed incapable of forming the intent requisite to a delinquent or criminal act.

Over that age, criminal intent can, presumptively, be formed.

So if your 7-year-old neighbor climbs the fence and picks your tulips, hopefully, a responsible adult will have a talk with them, and the word “No” will figure prominently in that conversation.

If that neighbor kid is 12, you have a tulip picker presumed to know better. Here, too, one hopes for a strong “No” response, a conversation in which the system has a right to intervene.

If the tulip picker is 18, call the cops.

These are the traditional levels of responsibility.

But now we have another level – the pardon level. It’s a level at which the over-18 offender is treated as if they were under 10 again. All guilt is removed, any penalty erased, and no one is there to tell them ‘No.’

Julie Myers served as the juvenile officer of Alpena County for many years. She is one of those rare people who isn’t fooled by kids under 10, those between 10 and 18, or by those who have reached their 18th birthday.

Kathy Stevens was one of the most effective social workers I ever worked with. She walked the hard walk, carrying cases involving the abuse and neglect of children.

According to Julie and Kathy, the problem with many of today’s youth and some of their parents is that no one has ever said “No” to them. They have only received a series of “pardons.”

I recently had the pleasure of sharing breakfast with these two fine ladies. The chat was pretty intense.

Both bemoaned the complexity of today’s youths’ journey through childhood and adolescence. A path of many distractions, where too many have never heard the word “No,” and where the acceptance of responsibility is often avoided.

You likely heard that Juan Hernandez was recently pardoned. He was instrumental in importing 400 tons of cocaine into this country, an action that caused unimaginable suffering and resulted in a staggering death toll.

Juan was allowed to walk away from a jury’s finding of guilt and a 45-year prison sentence. No one was waiting to tell him “No” only those who questioned why.

But if Juan were to seek an invitation to our party, would we not be compelled to tell him,”No”?

Doug Pugh’s column, “Vignettes”, appears monthly on the first Saturday of the month. Pugh was the probate judge of Alpena County for 24 years. Reach him at pughda@gmail.com.