Other People's Kids

Last night, I went to pick up my sons at a birthday party. Their friend from across our street was at this party, too. He was crying and mumbling to his father and his father's girlfriend; he was pointing out to the yard where my sons and some other kids were playing "freeze-tag." They left. But, as they left, the father's girlfriend mumbled something to me -- I think it was about my sons, but I didn't quite hear it and she walked away.

I'm not sure if it was about my sons. It could have been about the other kids. Something about them being "rough" or "tough on him."

We parents have to guard against being either too hard or too biased when it comes to our kids.

When my dad was a boy of 11 or twelve, he was collecting "half-balls" on the neighborhood roofs and a woman called the police, claiming my dad was "peeping" at her through the window while she took a shower. My grandparents, when the Philadelphia police showed up at the door, never considered listening to my dad when he swore he was only collecting half balls. They let the police drag my dad to the lady's door where they made him apologize for something he never did. (Years later, when I joked with my dad that he might have actually been peeping, he looked me in the eye and said: "Chris, I swear to you -- why would I lie now? -- that I was only collecting half balls. And, besides, if you had seen this woman, you would know there was no earthly reason why I would have wanted to have seen her naked.")

Amelia Rose Earhart: Why Aren't We Watching?

Amelia Rose Earhart is, right now, up in the sky, following the flight of the famous woman who disappeared in 1937.

It turns out they are not related. The current Amelia admitted that she once thought they were, but found out recently that they are not. Still, Amelia Mary Earhart was the current Amelia's namesake.

What is completely astonishing to me is that there seems to be no interest in this flight at all. I would think this would be a headline, at least for today. It has everything is needs: historical context; nifty name pyrotechnics; an attractive woman about to do something daring...

How is this not all over the Internet? I mean, you can find it, but... Jeeze. How am I one of the few people who thinks this is really cool?

I saw one oaf on a site call her another "blond, rich woman with nothing better to do." Ellen DeGeneres did a skit and made fun of her.

Why?

Homer Simpson Syndrome

The dean.

I know that educated people like to downplay the effect media has on kids -- it's up to the parents to watch and correct, they say. And they are right. But media does have its effect. It give kids (and everyone) an implication of how they are "supposed" to react to things and what they are "supposed" to say in certain circumstances.

This, of course, does not happen directly -- something registers on a s subconscious level with the developing mind and even with the adult mind. People use each other as models for behavior. How much of the affectation of kids do you think comes from TV? Eye-rolling is a learned behavior; parents-as-dorks is television amplification. (I say amplification, because I think there are certain natural perceptions made by kids...)

But, like I said, it is not only kids. Adults catch patterns of thought and speech. It does not only come from TV. We are social animals, we humans, and we look for grooves to fit into; we look for our models of behavior, too. I can't claim to be different than anyone else in that regard. Hopefully, my personality is original, but there is no denying that it is a tapestry of all of the personalities I have seen and admired from birth to now. A say a million things the way my dad did; I use expressions my mom used; I joke in the style of my best friends; I present myself in the classroom in the vein of my favorite teachers from the past...

What we can't afford to do, though, is to forget to think about a situation. We need to reason it out before we parrot reactions that we have heard in similar situations.

WARNING! Your Car is not a Starship

I have always been amused by disclaimers in advertisements. Well, sometimes horrified and sometimes amused...

We have all see the drug ads on TV. They advertise an anti-depressant and then tell you to call a doctor if you have thoughts of suicide. Um...huh?

Zoloft, an anti-depressant can cause a whole slew of problems, including insomnia and impotence. Neither (and I am not psychiatrist) is going to make someone feel a whole lot less depressed. I won't list the other things [vomit, like coffee grounds] because they are too many and too [seizure] horrible to [hallucinations] mention [dry mouth and constipation].

This morning, however, I heard a series of commercials on the radio. Within one commercial break from the radio show, I heard three disclaimers -- disclaimers that convince me that we spend far too much time mirco-analyzing our world and, truth be told, far too much time in litigation; for, after, all what are these disclaimers but arse-coverers?

First, a car company bragged about the "reliability" of its trucks. Lots of deep, gravelly men's voices and some choice crunch-guitar chords in the background hyped up the testosterocity of the trucks. Which is fine. At the end, though, an announcer quietly explains: "'reliability' based on longevity." This, I imagine, is there in case some bean-counter questions the advertisers for making baseless claims and takes them to court...

Love and a Father's Dignity

I learned something about love.

When my sons were born, I realized (as many people do) that love makes doing even the most distasteful things (like chaging a diaper) not only possible but even pleasant -- at least insofar as doing these things brings a certain cool selflessness to the act; and the only reward is (and for me, it was an absurdly major reward) seeing your child walk or crawl off, comfortable and clean. It wasn't until having children that I learned what it really means to think of someone else first. Corny, but true.

One becomes eager to change diapers. Odd, but true. At least, it was for me. (Not that I wasn't grateful when Grandmom or Grammy offered to take one for the team.)

I have been back, a few times, on this blog, to the literal decline and fall of my own father -- his dementia and, ultimately, his passing away some six months ago, and I remembered a bit of an epiphany I had during all of that.

Albert Beirdstadt

At one point, my mother had surgery and couldn't really get around well. When I was over at their place, my dad needed to take a shower. At that point, he couldn't do it without help and he also needed a hand in dressing himself. My mother, obviously, couldn't do it for awhile.