They call it Happy Valley—State College, Pennsylvania where Penn State is located. I spent 8 years of my life there and earned two degrees from the school. I understand why it is called Happy Valley. State College is a small town in central Pennsylvania that just happens to be the home of the state’s largest public university. It is called Happy Valley because it is a small town and a nice town. Outside of the seasonal migration of students and the madness of football games, not a lot happens in Happy Valley—at least not much that is really bad. That kind of Mayberry thing may sound like it only exists on TV, but I grew up in a smaller town in northern Pennsylvania where nothing really bad ever happened…so Happy Valley didn’t seem that strange or unreal to me when I showed up as a fresh-faced 17-year old two weeks out of high school.
It has remained Happy Valley long after such places really shouldn’t, and maybe don’t, exist anymore because the school and the town worked very hard to keep it that way. It is a nice town, a good place to raise your kids, and a decent place to send your kids to school. Like Penn State itself it is solid and low-key, not flashy and loud.
For 46 years this identity has been reflected and perpetuated by Joe Paterno and the Penn State football team. Integrity, hard work, and the team were always emphasized over splash and glitz and individual success. The faithful always believed that it was this approach—Paterno’s integrity—that had kept the school and its players out of any real big trouble over the years. When I showed up, I bought into that identity because it matched my own upbringing and values. It reinforced what I was raised to believe—you could work hard, do things right and succeed in spite of yourself.
I am completely heartbroken about what is going on, and has gone on, in Happy Valley. When I first learned, I was shocked—shocked because it seems pretty clear that Sandusky is a sexual predator who has been allowed to run loose for decades. Once I got over the shock and horror, I went into full denial mode—not denying what Sandusky has been accused of doing, but that Joe Paterno could possibly have done anything but the right thing. How could he? After all, he had proven his integrity for 46 years. Literally hundreds of young men could testify to the fact that Joe lived what he preached and preached what he lived.
As I digest the news that continues to break, I am slowly accepting that Paterno appears complicit. I really want to learn that Joe tried to stop all this, that he did all he could but was thwarted by the university. I can live with the fact that Joe has to retire because of this as long as he can show us he tried to do the right thing. I want to believe he did. Then again, I wanted to believe OJ, too. I want to believe in the complete goodness of some people even when I know that no one is completely good.
Right now my denial is giving way to acceptance and a sense of betrayal and loss. I am that little boy whose idol has been shown to be a monster…or at least human like the rest of us. In this case, what I idolized or really idealized, romanticized, mythicized (Yeah, it’s a word. Go look it up) was a place, an experience, and what I thought I learned from it all. The name Happy Valley only captures part of it. Yes, it was Happy Valley. It was a little town in central Pennsylvania dominated by a major university. It was a small place that felt small and safe and good. There were people there who lived their lives doing what was right even if it was unpopular. Now I am left with an adult realization…one that I already knew but reserved for places other than Happy Valley. There is no place that is entirely small and safe and good and no people are entirely good.
But really, I am not the little boy that I or anybody else should be worried about. There are a group of boys and young men who have to live with a horrible burden; a burden forced on them by someone who took advantage of a good and safe place. Their loss of innocence, not ours, is what should make every Penn Stater feel ashamed.
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