Rob Zaleski

Rob Zaleski: Support crucial in death of child

By Rob Zaleski
October 15, 2003

Every so often, a tragedy occurs that is so horrifying and so unfair that many of us end up questioning why we're down here - and whether our lives actually do serve a purpose.

Tragedies such as the death last week of a 6-month-old girl who'd been left in a car seat for most of the day by her sleep-deprived mother, who, it turned out, had forgotten to drop the infant off at a day care center.

In the 18 years I've been doing this column, I can't recall a tragedy that provoked more reaction - in large part because the mother, by all accounts, is a warm and highly respected woman who happened to be experiencing an inordinate amount of stress in her life.

As Dane County District Attorney Brian Blanchard explained, the infant's death by asphyxiation was "completely accidental." The baby's mother and father, he said, had suffered another tragedy just a few days earlier when their 2-year-old son - who has spastic quadraplegia - had to be institutionalized.

The mother was so distraught over that development, Blanchard said, that she'd barely gotten any sleep. And that fact clearly played a role in the tragedy.

Still, while the overwhelming reaction seemed to be one of sympathy, there were some who weren't quite so understanding and questioned what kind of mother would do such a thing.

To me, such reactions were yet another reminder of how our society has changed and how much more judgmental we've become. Then again, I'll admit that my perspective is different than most.

Way back in the fall of 1954 - when I was just 7 - my family happened to experience a similar tragedy.

My 2-year-old brother had developed a fascination for the spinning motion of our washing machine and would beg family members to lift him up so he could witness it. Then one afternoon he apparently decided he no longer needed our help.

While my mother was hanging out clothes in the yard, he climbed out of his sandbox, nudged open the back door and made his way to the basement. Then he pulled up a chair, hoisted himself up to the washing machine - and fell in. (Or so it was later speculated.)

When my mother noticed that he was no longer in the sandbox, she panicked and began racing from neighbor to neighbor to see if anyone had spotted him. When she finally returned home some 15 minutes later, she smelled smoke - the washing machine had shorted out - rushed down to the basement, and discovered his small, limp body inside the washer.

Because it was such a freak tragedy, the Milwaukee Journal chose to run the story on its front page the next day. Then, as often happens, the wire services picked up the story and it ran in newspapers across the country.

But, as I say, those were different times.

For one, there were no tabloids or gossipy TV shows whose sole purpose was to exploit personal tragedies. So while there probably were people who believed my mother had been negligent, the subject wasn't debated in the media - or anywhere else, as far as I know.

In fact, once the story hit the newswires, a truly remarkable thing happened.

I'm still not sure how perfect strangers discovered our address, but they did. And for the next few weeks, hundreds of cards and letters arrived at our home.

Most offered their prayers and condolences and, in some instances, words of encouragement. Many of the cards also contained money - including several $100 bills. But what amazes me to this day is that not one of those who responded questioned my mother's behavior or tried to take advantage of my parents' grief.

Years later, my grandmother confided to me that those cards and letters were a great source of strength and comfort for my parents - and a big reason they were eventually able to move forward and live reasonably happy lives.

There were other factors, of course. Our neighbors pitched in and provided most of our dinners over the next few months. And I think it dawned on my parents that they couldn't afford to dwell on the tragedy since, after all, they had five other kids to look after.

But I learned something from that ordeal: that as traumatizing as the death of a young child is, families can and do recover. Only they can't do it alone.

So if any friends, neighbors and co-workers of this woman happen to be reading this, I would advise you not to underestimate the critical role you can play.

And I'd tell you that this family has never needed you more than it does now.

E-mail: rzaleski@madison.com

Published: 10:04 AM 10/15/03