I used to do the weekly grocery shopping, back when my wife and I were raising our young children in Ohio.

I enjoyed clipping coupons and looking for bargains. But I hated the grocery store crowds, so I would go very early in the morning when the store was nearly empty.

On those early morning excursions, I often saw an older woman, very tall.

White was her other distinguishing feature, white from top to bottom: her complexion, hair, long coat, shoes, all white.

She always recognized me as the editor of the local newspaper, and would nudge her shopping cart over to mine.

“Mr. Rhoades, you are not doing enough about the children, the abused children. The people who sexually abuse children are everywhere, and you are not doing enough to stop them.”

This was 30 years ago, and the issue of sexual abuse was only beginning to emerge from the shadows. I would politely point out to her the occasional story we had done about the problem.

And she would tell me, sternly, that it was not enough. The people abusing children are always active and they are everywhere.

I would thank her for that, then walk away, relieved that the uncomfortable encounter was over. I thought she was either exaggerating or obsessed.

It took another 20 years for me to realize she was right; the abuse was all around us, and none of us were doing enough.

My first newspaper job was in Lewistown, Pa., the next town over the mountain from State College, home of the Penn State Nittany Lions.

Happy Valley it was called, an idyllic little town in the middle of a huge college campus.

It is hard for people in the Northeast, I think, to fully imagine the grip a really big college football program can have on an entire region.

The coach is god, but with his own TV program. Everyone can hum the fight song. People paint their homes the university colors and fly the college flag every Saturday. The tailgate parties, the mascot, the big band at half time — all part of what people call the “experience.”

And it was the perfect cover for a sexual predator with a fondness for boys, according to prosecutors.

The allegations against Jerry Sandusky, of course, are well-known by now. For 15 years, authorities say, he abused boys involved in a charity he founded for disadvantaged youth. He is now under indictment.

While the case is unusual, police, social workers and judges know the pattern is not.

An abuser obtains a position of trust and authority, befriends a powerless child and lavishes them with gifts, money and attention. Then the relationship gradually turns sexual.

What clearly sets this case apart is the way several powerful institutions either refused to believe, or refused to act upon, what was right before their eyes.

That, unfortunately, is what institutions with images to protect are most inclined to do — look the other way, find excuses, hand out warnings, sweep unpleasant things under the rug and hope they disappear.

Witness the scandals that have wracked the Catholic Church.

The institution’s image — which also means the image of the people who run the institution — quickly becomes more important than the well-being of a few children.

It would be useful to know how much grief, sadness and psychological dysfunction is related to childhood sexual abuse, but no one can know for sure.

Yet, people working in the field say that when they peel back the protective layers of criminals, drug addicts, alcoholics, the mentally ill and even abusers themselves, they often find an abused little boy or girl hiding beneath.

The Jerry Sandusky case shows that predators can still hide — within families and within powerful institutions — for many years at a time, continually getting the benefit of the doubt from everyone around them.

I would like to think that much has changed over the past 30 years, that it has become more difficult for sexual offenders to operate.

But I’m afraid a tall woman in a white coat, with a reason to know, would tell me we have hardly scratched the surface.

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