Joe Paterno was Penn State, the public said.
It was just 365 days ago that I scoured the news online from my abroad homestay in Spain, annoyed at the inaccuracies of reporting and confused by the uneasy tension I felt awaiting to find out the truth. Joe Paterno had died, and I? I was an ocean away, separated from my beloved university at a time most crucial to each Penn Stater’s heart. In the midst of the scandal, I was still attempting to collect and investigate my own feelings on Paterno. Ever since my Nittany Lion parents taught me about Penn State, they talked about Paterno. My father told me the story of the moment in 1984 when he saw him in person. It was like seeing a celebrity, he said.
One year ago, the “religious views” section of my Facebook profile bared the name “JoePa.” No citing of any God, but Joe Paterno. What a mindset, right? To put so much faith in just one entity seems absurd. And, to judge his free will seems almost as crazy as judging the figure who supposedly gave him that free will. Surprisingly, I, and so many others, understand that such prominent figures cannot play the role of God; nobody can. Without the forgiveness of sin, idolizers of Joe were ridiculed and defamed of the very shrine that framed his glory. Like a baby in a manger come January, the statue of Joe was dismantled and stored away.
But, when I think of Joe Paterno, I think of my 86-year-old grandmother; two people with wisdom and gracious hearts from a time different from mine. I think of a man who grew up in a generation unlike my own, where expressing any sexuality out of wedlock brought about slander of “loose women,” abuse was taboo, and debates regarding homosexuality were the furthest thing from dinner table conversation. Yet in today’s society, we are all forced to acknowledge those topics, talk about them, and recognize the differences between right and wrong.
However, it seems that only one thing is clear in the swirling pool of ignorant jokes around us: The one year anniversary of Joe’s death only continues to succeed his name. We still talk about Joe, and we still praise the good that was done on his behalf. In the days since his death, his name stays marked on The Pattee Paterno Library, because his irrefutable, genuine care for the students’ education at this university will lasts beyond his years.
As the tide continues to turn, Penn State is more than Joe Paterno and Joe Paterno was more than this scandal. Last spring when I blogged from Spain about the turmoil and heartbreak back home, I thanked Jerry Sandusky. After Penn State’s 100 percent student-run, 46-hour dance maraTHON raised more than $10 million for pediatric cancer, I thanked a man who abused children—a sick man. I thanked him for showing the world that one person does not determine a university – not Joe Paterno, not Jerry Sandusky, not me. I spoke of being proud of my fellow classmates for continuing to live by the same values of “success with honor” today as they did two years ago. Joe Paterno was not Penn State; he was human – and a good one at that.
I put Joe Paterno on a pedestal, but so did the rest of the world. Joe Paterno didn’t do enough, they said. He was in a position of authority and chose to let this incident slip through the cracks to protect the game and reputation of the university, they said. They wanted Joe Paterno in the limelight. They put him there, for his failures to control a situation that was out of his control.
This situation was out of my control, too, and I – one year later – am punished for just that. The scandal, the sanctions – they punished all of us. But as any Penn State student would tell you, in the face of adversity leave it to our school to always meet success. Specifically, success that stems from the exact person many chose to blame, Joe – the father figure who instilled in all of us the belief that deep down in our hearts, we are destined to do great things. So, if blaming him for the culture of good intentions he encouraged is the worst of his legacy, then I think he’s a lucky man. I think, we all are.
Rest easy, coach, and happy anniversary.
Photo Credit: www.lancasteronline.com