Two things saved me from disaster. My parents and the fact that nobody (especially myself) kept a permanent record of my actions. Because I was a moron, I am quite certain that I would have taken Vine videos and Instagram shots of myself drinking on the steep cliffs that overlook the Hudson River.
Still, my dumb shit seems tame to more recent stories about teenage behavior.
Must read: Sexting, Shame, and Suicide by Nina Burleigh in Rolling Stone Magazine.
How in God’s name do I make sure that my children are never exposed to that kind of cruelty? That they never inflict it on anyone else? And how do I make them into the kind of kids who stand up for the Audries of the world?