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Merry Christmas to everyone: today, tomorrow, and throughout the year. May your days be merry and bright!
Just wait…You’ll be seeing more of The Rock and Roll series. Just wait.
What’s In a Christmas Movie?….
24 Dec
What do you find in a Christmas movie? Some are filled with the magic of the season. Some are filled with the knowledge that each one of us is special. Some teach us that the spirit of Christmas is giving more than we receive.
Last night, my mother and I watched The Gathering, starring Ed Asner and Maureen Stapleton, made in 1977. If you’ve never seen it, it’s about an older man who left his wife because of selfish reasons, and dismissed his grown children because of differences he was too proud to overlook (including one son who had dodged the Vietnam War draft). This man is diagnosed with a fatal illness that will leave him only a month or two to live. It dawns on him that he is out of time to mend his family, and decides to have one last Christmas gathering before he dies.
Not only is the message clear, and lasting, but it brought back memories of past Christmases in my family, especially for my mother. My father looked quite a bit like Ed Asner, and was gruff and sometimes brutal in his view of how a family should be, and how the world should be.
When they were decorating the tree, Maureen Stapleton unwrapped a cookie made from baker’s clay, decorated with sequins and marker. Just like the ones my siblings and I made when we were kids. The head was broken from the body, and required super glue for mending, reminding my mother of all those baker’s clay cookies made and decorated so long ago, and crumbling after being stored and unwrapped year after year for the last 40 years.
Especially poignant was the scene where Ed Asner, as the patriarch of the family, read ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas to the kids before bedtime, adding to the magic and anticipation of Santa, whose reindeer and sleigh was surely not that far away. My father did that too. He had a special Night Before Christmas book – the cover padded and puffy – that was pulled out every year for the one traditional story that had to be read before bedtime.
But instead of leaving Santa cookies and milk, as Ed Asner suggested to his grandchildren, my dad had assured us that Santa was tired of so many cookies, and he was surely sick to death of milk. Better to leave him a Big Mac from McDonald’s, with a cold Diet Dr. Pepper to wash it down.
The Gathering was bitter-sweet. Bringing back those wonderful childhood memories of Christmas, but then reminding both my mother and me that sometimes you couldn’t go backwards, only forwards. Sometimes, there was simply no more time left.
The movie ended with us knowing Ed Asner would never see his children again, and would leave his family behind within weeks. My dad won’t be coming back either.
Sometimes, it is, in fact, too late. But more often than not, there’s still time to make things right, and to let others know how much they mean to us. When the opportunity presents itself, don’t waste it – seize the gift when it’s given.
Merry Christmas to everyone: today, tomorrow, and throughout the year. May your days be merry and bright!
Sometimes Work Really Bites….
13 Jul
Again, my ten-year-old boy had another creative brainstorm. Since he loves dogs, and he needs to earn some cash (those Beyblades don’t just buy themselves), he decided to launch Christian’s Dog Walking service.
Well….uh….ok. Profound words from Mom and Dad.
After deliberation, we told him he could distribute his flyers just to the neighbors up and down the street. Which he did. The first day of distribution was done with scotch tape, which didn’t reap any rewards. But the second day was hand delivery. Bingo. He got his first customer.
A Great Dane. …BOSS (literally, and probably figuratively as well). But a sweet Great Dane.
With trash bags in pocket (after all, his flyer said he’d pick up poop too), he left the house for his first job. We were proud of his enterprise and responsibility. (He’d even given up a trip to Grandma’s because he’d committed to walking the dog).
My boy walked that dog once. Then he went over to play with the dog in his yard later, and was commissioned to come back in the evening for another walk. He was even paid in advance – a dollar for each walk.
As evening approached, he set out once again, trash bags in pocket. But on the way to his customer’s house, the 104-pound neighbor-dog had just gotten back from a frustrating, long visit to the vet. He was apparently in a very bad mood. He ran from his mistress, sniffed my little boy once, bit him on the leg, and ran off.
My boy kept walking to his customer’s house. Once the man found out what had happened, he told my boy he should wait on the walk; he should go back home to get doctored.
But lo and behold, as my little boy walked back by the neighbor’s house, the same dog ran up to him again. He screamed, and tried to hold his hand out to protect his leg, but…
Yes, you guessed it, the dog then bit his hand.
The bites were pretty bad, but thankfully not worse. No mauling or muscle damage, and he escaped stitches. Thank heaven for his customer who drove him back down the street to mom, and thank heaven for Care Now clinic, so people who have weird stuff happen to them after hours won’t have to sit forever in the ER.
So my little boy’s first day at work was both satisfying and brutal. But at least he earned some combat pay (Boss’s dad thought it was in order), and at least he got to skip his shower.
But unfortunately, he had to learn early on that some days work just really bites.
Entering The Teenage Zone…
15 May
Yep, entering the Teenage Zone, once again. Worse than the Twilight Zone. I’ve been terrified of this since she was born, and now here we are.
It was a wake-up call for me.
We were driving to her softball game, and heard a rap song from the past that was a favorite. (Yes, you heard right – Rap. I still crank it up quite a bit. Even to hip hop – yep, it gets you going).
Anyway, we cranked it up. But it wasn’t that ear-splitting, bass thumping loud. Just normal loud. I thought nothing of it. I’ve always played my music loud .
We finally got to her game, and dropped her at the curb in the parking lot. “Good luck, sweetie. I love you,” I told her.
“Thanks, I love you too,” she said. Quickly followed by, “Could you turn the radio down please?” She waited for the turn of the volume knob, and then she opened the door.
As we went to find a parking space, I asked my husband, “Did you hear her? That was cute.”
“What’s so cute about her being embarrassed we had the radio too loud?” he wanted to know.
Lightbulb moment!!
“Oh,” I answered. “I thought she was worried about me not being able to hear her say ‘I love you’.”
Nope.
I know. Naïve.
And we have now entered The Teenage Zone.
FUNNY KID STUFF…..(I think)…
10 May
It’s scary when a four-year-old attempts tricks that are usually featured in a place like the Guinness record books. And sometimes funny. But always surprising.
My grandson ran up to his mother, giggling, anxious to show her the trick he’d just come up with. He put both index fingers into his nostrils (at least he wasn’t doing it with chop sticks for a walrus impression). He said, “Look what I can do,” and then he blew. And laughed some more.
My daughter thought it odd, and said, “Are you blowing air out of your ears?” Not really expecting an affirmative answer.
“No, Mom,” he laughed. “Out of my eyes! It tickles!”
OH–MY–GOD!!!
“What?” my daughter asked. “Let me see.”
And sure enough, air came through his eye sockets, and was tickling his eyeballs.
You might ask if he’d seen the man on TV who could drink milk, and make it shoot from his eyes. And the answer would be “yes”.
I know – I have a very talented family. Scary to think what his next trick will be.
Military Camo – Disguising Child Neglect?
17 Apr
Military Camo – Disguising Child Neglect?
This week I visited my son and his family – they just had a new baby boy whom we wanted to meet. My son is in the military, and lives in off-base military housing. I’d seen a picture of their house, which was beautiful. They live across from the pool, down the street from a playground, and within walking distance to the elementary school. Perfect, right?
We drove into their subdivision, and it was beautiful – large two-story townhomes, spacious and well maintained. The streets and yards were clean; it was a gorgeous neighborhood. I still didn’t understand why it wasn’t the neighborhood my son and his wife wanted their kids growing up in.
And then we heard the stories.
Every house in their neighborhood has kids (a “families only” subdivision). And at least three out of four of those families let their kids run wild. My daughter has been their surrogate mother on many occasions.
Are the fathers deployed and overseas? I don’t know. But what I do know is that many of the mothers in that community don’t work – they’re stay-at-home moms. But what are they doing? They’re not taking care of their kids, but leaving that task to parents who just can’t stand to see child neglect.
Examples:
It seems as if the neighborhood is inhabited by only children. Rarely are there ever any parents in sight.
At least twice, kids were “dumped at the door” after being picked up from school; their rides driving away before they even found out no one was home. Once, after being told that their kids COULD NOT spend the night, the kids were dropped off at one parent’s house anyway, with the parents driving away and being MIA until the next day.
My daughter has had kids surrounding her kitchen table after school – all of them needing help with homework that they say they don’t get at home. All of them wanting food – they’re hungry.
My daughter has walked other people’s kids to school with her own. She’s been called before school by the kids, saying they can’t wake their mothers up to help them get ready for school. Could she please wait while they get ready and run to catch up?
Once there was a little five year old who was walking by himself to school, crying. My daughter asked him what was wrong, and he said he was hungry. His mother didn’t feed him, and he had no money to buy school food, and had used his freebie the day before.
The playground is a notorious place to visit. The older kids are cursing bullies who take your toys, or who try to hurt and intimidate the smaller kids. Again, no parents .
And what about the angry elementary school child on the playground, getting a butcher knife and an ax from home, then chasing the other kids, and threatening to cut them? The police were called but they couldn’t locate his mother. MIA. Again.
My son and daughter have been warned that they haven’t even experienced the real test with the parentless kids in the neighborhood. Summer. The pool won’t let anyone under sixteen in without a parent. So the children swarm the area, begging any adult they see heading for the pool if they can go in with them. Like the hungry child beggars in Mexico swarming tourists. But these kids are begging for attention, not money.
Where are their mothers?
My smaller kids were playing with some neighborhood children during our visit, and were appalled to find out they’d never jumped rope, or thrown a Frisbee. Normal kid-things to do, but no one had taught them.
So the great revelation during my visit to the beautiful military housing neighborhood where my son and daughter live: Once again, looks can always be deceiving. Military camouflage can cover military child neglect (just like it’s disguised in the non-military world.)
Maybe the military should create another special ops team – Child Protective Forces. Sounds like they need it.
Homeless
26 Mar
The word homeless conjures images of old men with straggly hair, dirt-encrusted fingernails, and dirty clothes, wandering the sidewalks amid downtown high-rises. Bums. Hobos. Street people.
But many times, the faces of the homeless are unrecognizable.
I was at the Salvation Army services center yesterday, picking up a friend. I sat in the simple vinyl-padded chair in the lobby, waiting. Steady streams of groups of men and women walked past, going to and from services, and lunch – they looked like they were army units, traveling together and on a schedule. I watched two women speaking with the receptionist. They were normal, everyday women, wearing normal clothes – T-shirts and capris. They could have been shoppers at the mall, or the moms of your kids’ friends. They weren’t dirty; they had no bags. I assumed they were there to pick someone up, or visit, just like me. They came and sat a few rows behind me, waiting. Just like I was.
The director of the shelter which housed the women and children came to the waiting area, and we said our hello’s. I’d met her twice before during a child neglect case I was working on. But she hadn’t come to see me. She sat beside the two women behind me, and listened to their story.
The older woman, who seemed about my age, did all of the talking. This is what I overheard:
My husband was in jail for a year. Again. He doesn’t have a job. I’m sick of this – I can’t live like this anymore. The rent hasn’t been paid and I have no money. I’ve tried to get a job, but I only found one – a waitress. They wanted me to wear a short skirt, and I told them I couldn’t do that. I’m fifty years old, and I can’t dress like that. My daughter is twenty (pointing to the girl) and she’s looking for a job as well. My mom lives up north, and I have no one here to go to. They’ve kicked us out of our home.
She began to cry, burdened by the shame and fear of her situation.
We are homeless; we have nowhere to go. Can we stay here?
The director proceeded to tell her that the beds were full, but they could sleep on floor mats until a room became available. And she proceeded to explain the rules of the Center, which were many.
These are not new “faces of the homeless”, but they are faces that you might not associate with a shelter. So, the next time you’re standing in line at the grocery store, or the post office, the homeless may just be among you. Tragedy happens to regular people too.
Shelters aren’t just for hobos.
What Better Way to End 2010 Than With a Bribe??….
1 Jan
What better way to begin the New Year than with a bribe? Or maybe I was just trying to end the old year with one? I’m not sure, and I guess it really doesn’t matter.
Every year we usually do the same thing to celebrate New Year’s Eve – we go out to eat, with between 2 and 5 of our own kids, and up to 7 of theirs. Then we go home, and try very hard to stay up until midnight to ring in the New Year. I give the kids fake champagne in fancy glasses, and we all go out on the front porch (under the car port to avoid any falling bullets) where the kids bang on pots and pans, and yell “Happy New Year” as loud as they can. Then we go to bed.
At least we parents do. What can I say? I’m old and boring (at least late-night on New Year’s Eve). But last year I promised my little boy that next year we would consider going to the New Year’s Eve celebration downtown and watch the fireworks.
How did “next year” get here so fast? I didn’t even remember my “promise to consider”. But you know that he did.
So we told him we’d try to go, after we went to a late dinner.
But even after our late dinner, we still had 2.5 hours to midnight, and we didn’t want to stand around in the cold for that long. We decided to go to a friend’s house to pass some time, and on the way, we looked at Christmas lights (another of our procrastinations).
But we old folks still couldn’t see how standing out in the cold for hours was a cooler thing to do than snuggling in our warm bed and reading a book/watching TV. But this year, even my thirteen-year-old girl wasn’t interested in going – she said she was tired; she was falling asleep. Go figure. (But at least it wasn’t just we “old people” this year).
Then an idea of brilliance hit me. I’d helped my little boy online-shop for Gears of War action figures earlier in the day, and he was only able to afford one instead of two (they are expensive and hard to find). What if I gave him the choice of either going to the celebration, or getting that second action figure he couldn’t afford? (One good thing about being older – you usually have more cash). Of course, just a consolation prize so he wouldn’t feel too bad about missing the fireworks. NOT A BRIBE! A CONSOLATION PRIZE!
I felt sure he’d go for it. After all, he’d even had me Tweet Cliff Bleszinski, the designer for Epic Games who created Gears of War, his favorite X-Box game, to see if he could discuss characters and plot with him (of course, to no avail: therealcliffyb probably doesn’t have time for brilliant nine-year-olds). But I truly thought this would be a win-win for all of us!
I was shocked that he didn’t jump at the chance. Not only did he not jump, he was just very saddened at the fact that the rest of us really didn’t want to go. Then he just gave in, because he didn’t want to make his family do something they didn’t want to do on New Year’s Eve. He didn’t seem to care about the action figure at all.
CRAP! I didn’t have the heart to stand him up.
So we drove into the mass of cars parked downtown, and made our way into the area that housed the stage, and music, and massive digital screens which decorated the buildings (a Times Square wanna-be). We were actually squished in the middle of about two-gazillion twenty-something-year-olds, with beers in their hands. My little boy was so short, he could barely see anything, and there wasn’t even room to try to hold him up.
But we listened to music, and watched the fireworks go off at midnight (the fireworks dancing to the music – very cool), and wished each other Happy New Year. And we actually made it out of the crowded mass without being flattened or trampled. (The only casualty of the evening was my teen-aged daughter’s coat which got sprayed with champagne, and now “smelled like beer”, to her great dismay).
And I had to admit, I’m glad we went. It was kind of a cool way to say goodbye to 2010, and welcome 2011. My older kids celebrated at home this year – imagine that. I was crazier than they were. Maybe I’ll even do something else this year that is out of character for an old person.
Thanks little boy!!
Happy New Year everyone!
Mom Rock…
21 Dec
And here I am. My favorite color is pink, and I apparently have eyes all over. I see all; I am forever watching.
(I like the image!)
Rock and Roll Series – - The Christmas Rocks (From the mind of a nine-year-old)
20 Dec
