Child abuse and neglect tally an offensive statistic

I was one of the lucky ones.

Growing up in the suburbs of Denver, Colo., I had a great childhood. A loving family, two parents who never divorced or split (they celebrated their 40th anniversary last June) and lived what now seems an idyllic middle-class life, complete with a brother, sister, dog and cat.

I was never abused or neglected, although I may not have thought so at the time (the nerve of Earl and Lisa Johnson, making me sit there until I finished my vegetables). On a few occasions, my behavior drew a spanking, but the spankings were weak and the practice quickly abandoned by the time my younger siblings came along.

We had to do chores, were rewarded for good behavior and punished for bad. I remember growing up across the street from my best friends, Kevin and Kelly, and hearing nearly every day about how their step-father would take the belt to them for nearly any infraction. Now, I’m not one to label all corporal punishment as “child abuse,” but other punishments now seem more like torture than opportunities to learn life lessons.

As I grew up, moved out and began a career as a news writer and editor, I know not all children are as lucky as I was. From children being abused to death to extreme examples of punishment — I’ll never forget the story of a 7-year-old forced to stand in a corner with his arms outstretched holding phone books until he collapsed — there are far too many of these sad stories.

Like many of us, when not exposed to the stories, abuse is out of sight, out of mind. That’s why I was moved by Sunday’s Light of Hope event at Wasilla High School. If you don’t know what Light of Hope is, chances are you will by the end of the month. Throughout April, there are 345 mint green ribbons tied to the fence at the school along Bogard Road. They represent each confirmed case of child abuse or neglect in the Valley in 2009.

The only thing more offensive than knowing there were 345 children abused last year is knowing there most certainly were many more.

Greg Johnson is a reporter for the Mat-Su Valley Frontiersman.