A Time of Waiting

For those of us that live our lives at least somewhat by the liturgical calendar, we are in the second week of the New Year, the second week of Advent. In the Christian tradition, Advent is the time that immediately precedes the celebration of the birth of Christ—Christmas. Thus, it is a season of waiting – waiting for the baby to be born. It should be a time for us to slow down and contemplate all that there is to learn from enduring a period of great anticipation. But, waiting is not something we do well in this day and age. Immediate gratification seems to be considered by many as an inalienable right.

I heard on the radio today that people under twenty one, i.e. those who have grown up in an era in which the Internet has been a part of their everyday life since birth, consider more than ten seconds as too long to wait for a web page to load whereas those of us who are a little older (or a lot older) are perfectly happy waiting as much as two or three minutes. Some people say that our youth are simply impatient and others say that this impatience is a result of children these days being overindulged. They are given cell phones from the time they can string two syllables together. They are banging away on computer keyboards as soon as they can sit up. Their strollers are equipped with iPod speakers. Everything from food to cosmetics, from designer clothing to kid-sized motorized Hummers is available to them. It would appear that they don’t have to wait until adulthood for anything. As children, they can have it all. This may all be true, but with any scenario, there is another side of the story.

Children do have many of the gadgets and material things that in past generations were deemed only for “grown-ups”; but sadly, they also are now facing many of the stresses of life that at one time also were reserved only for adults.

Illness and death were not something that I had much experience with as a child. Sure, I knew of kids who lost their grandparents. That was not a surprise to me as a child because they were “old” and old people die. The most serious encounter that I had with illness was when a classmate had their tonsils out. And as far as I knew, a tonsillectomy was not life threatening. Children didn’t face life-threatening illnesses and only old people died. Looking back, I know that life was not this rosy, but as a child, even a teenager, I never had to face the emotional stresses of such things. This too has changed for children today.

Erin will be seventeen years old in two weeks. Based on the current statistical life expectancy, she is still very young. In those seventeen years, she has experienced firsthand more heartache and pain as the result of illness and death than I had by the time I was forty. When she was seven, Erin and an entire classroom of second and third graders attended the funeral of a beloved teacher. She had cancer and was not old. She was the mother of a little girl who also attended the same school. When I was little, teachers and mothers did not die.

As she was finishing middle school, Erin’s math teacher and the mother of a child a year older than Erin was diagnosed with colon cancer. She is no longer teaching because battling cancer is taking all of her energy. When I was little, teachers and mothers did not get cancer.

Back in the spring, another of her teachers collapsed and died of a heart attack while out jogging on a Saturday morning. Again the funeral service with packed with children, two of whom were his own. He was my age. When I was little, teachers and fathers did not die from heart attacks.

Two weeks ago a friend of Erin’s, a girl with whom she attended school, played volleyball, performed in plays, and had many slumber parties from kindergarten through eighth grade was diagnosed with a rare form of bone cancer that affects primarily adolescents. A part of Erin’s daily routine now is to check the website that her friend’s family has created to keep friends and family updated on her progress. When I was little, my friends did not get cancer.

It may be true that our children have more things than they need. They most certainly also have more stresses than they need or deserve. When I step back and look at the bigger picture of childhood today, it becomes clear to me why young people need immediate gratification. They are keenly aware that tomorrow is not a guarantee.

What are they waiting for?

Joy In Our World

Over the years that I have kept a journal I have noticed a trend in my writing; when things are bad, I tend not to write. Like many things in my life, that has changed in the last year. My silence here is not because things are bad or I am unhappy but because life is wonderful and I have spent my time doing other things. I have missed writing, but I do not regret taking the time away from it to truly live.

Teaching has been great this year. My students are motivated and are working hard. That encourages me to work equally as hard for them. Erin is in the final stages of completing her college applications. It seems like just yesterday that I was editing Brooke’s admissions essay. Now it is Erin. And, Weber and I have both been fortunate to have the opportunity to reconnect with friends from the past so our social calendar has been full. And, as you might imagine, holiday preparations are occupying our time as well.

Surprisingly, I have completed most of my gift-buying – without stepping foot in a retail establishment over the Thanksgiving weekend! For the first time in a long time I am delighted with my progress so early in December and I am also pleased with the gifts that I have bought. Because I am ahead of the game, we are even ready to put up the Christmas tree – perhaps tomorrow night . . .or not . . .

“What’s this? Flowers? How thoughtful!”
”It’s the new Christmas tree and it comes with instructions, which I have made the mistake of reading.”

How hard can this be? Do we really need instructions to put together an artificial tree? It’s not like they need to tell us how often to water it or to cut an inch or two off of the trunk like is required with a living tree. As Weber read the instructions aloud, it became obvious that they were not to aid in the successful erecting of a Christmas tree, but purely to entertain.

For example:

DO NOT USE THIS PRODUCT FOR OTHER THAN ITS INTENDED USE.

I wonder what its intended use really is?

Maybe if we shed a little light on it.

DO NOT USE SEASONAL PRODUCTS OUTDOORS UNLESS MARKED SUITABLE FOR OUTDOOR USE.

Mike and Weber decided that its purpose must be a prop with which to practice toilet papering people’s yards. We had snow yesterday so it is nice for them to hone their skills inside where it is nice and warm – especially since this seasonal product is not intended to be used outdoors.

THIS IS AN ELECTRIC PRODUCT – NOT A TOY!

You guys are going to get in trouble!

THIS SEASONAL PRODUCT IS NOT INTENDED FOR PERMANENT INSTALLATION OR USE.
Too bad for Adidas. He would like a permanent indoor tree so that he did not have to venture outside on these cold days.

WHEN STORING THE PRODUCT, CAREFULLY REMOVE IT FROM WHEREVER IT IS PLACED.
We don’t have to worry about this instruction for a while. For now, we can simply enjoy our seasonal, electric, indoor, non-permanent, non-toy.

Though we did have our share of fun and laughs while putting up the Christmas tree, we are keenly aware of the meaning of Christmas.

Fleece on earth, good wool to all.

Oh sorry! The tree is decorated in all things wool – sheep ornaments, miniature knitted socks, sweaters and hats, and various critters adorned with scarves, mittens and hats.

Seriously,

PEACE ON EARTH AND GOOD WILL TO ALL.

Head and Shoulder, Keys and So It Goes . . .

Anyone who has raised children knows that parenting is not for the weak hearted. Worrying starts from . . .well, the day of conception. Am I eating right? Am I getting enough sleep? Am I gaining too much weight? Am I gaining enough weight? Should I listen to Bach or Wagner? And so on. Every decision you make now affects someone in addition to yourself. Needless to say, pregnancy is a stressful time. And, it doesn’t get any better once the little darling is born. The worries just change a little. Is he or she eating right? Getting enough sleep? Gaining enough weight? Gaining too little weight? Listening to too much Baby Einstein?

Worrying done in these early months is simply practice for the next eighteen years and beyond. The first time you leave a baby with a babysitter is preparation for the day you send them to kindergarten and leave them in a college dorm. The bumps and bruises earned while negotiating those first steps make the battle scars from falling out of trees and those rough sports games easier to handle. The first broken bone makes the second,, third and fourth seem like a piece of cake. The first few yards on a bike with training wheels foreshadow those first few miles with a learner’s permit. And taking those training wheels off is almost as scary as the day the driver’s license is issued.

For those of us who have been in the parenting game from day one, there has been lots of practice and many trial runs for the teenaged years. I can’t imagine walking into to all of this in the midst of the quest for teenaged independence. That is exactly what Weber did. He has handled it much better than I think that I would have if our roles had been reversed!

Essentially, he came into our lives at the point that Erin got her learner’s permit. So there he is with a child he doesn’t know very well who wants to drive. It is bad enough that he is being asked to risk life and limb with a “green” driver. To top it all off, because I couldn’t drive, he became the responsible parental figure. And did I mention he willingly let her drive his car? He and Erin were fine. (I think.) I was a nervous wreck!

Then there are all the questions. The one that every parent dreads, “Where do babies come from?”, is nothing compared to the ones that Erin comes up with. At least that one has a matter of fact answer. “Why are boys such douche bags?”, “Why are there so many stupid people in the world?”, or “Is it OK if Jesus and I have a trial separation?” require the ability to think quickly and refrain from giving said teenager any satisfaction from shock value.

Then there was the night that she proclaimed at the dinner table that she thought that every male should be kicked in the groin once a month in solidarity with all the women of the world. Hmm . . .not such a bad idea.

Now she is in the midst of applying to college. Erin, Weber and I have been to college nights for the schools that Erin is considering. No matter what they say, the seemingly endless lists of school supplies that I have been buying for the last twelve years or more in no way prepares you for paying for college. They won’t take crayons and Kleenex in lieu of a tuition check.

In many ways Weber is in a difficult place – taking a parental role without overstepping any boundaries. Everyone seems to be handling that well. Life around here is a true testament to what caring and loving relationships are all about. Weber promised Erin that he did not want to get in the way of her relationship with her dad but that he would always be there for her, a shoulder to lean on. And he has kept his promise.

Happiness Is ???

Every student of American history, even those who did not pay particularly close attention during class has heard the phrase “life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.” These things are the inalienable rights afforded to us by this country’s Declaration of Independence. I am clear on what life is and I am fairly clear on what liberty means. What the heck does “the pursuit of happiness” really mean? If this is a right, guaranteed to all by virtue of being a citizen of the United States, why are there so many unhappy people in this country?

As I sat thinking about this, it suddenly dawned on me that when we think about this phrase, we focus on the wrong word. We tend to think that these words of John Locke entitle us to life, liberty, and happiness. Wrong! We are not guaranteed happiness. We are guaranteed the right to pursue happiness. Herein lays the answer to why there are so many unhappy people around. We know what it means to pursue something, to chase after something until we have caught it. The question in this case is what is “it”? What are we chasing? What is happiness? Most people have no clue; thus we are a nation in utter distress and utter dis-ease.

Yesterday was the first day of school. For both Weber and I the day was not bad – a few of the first day glitches with student schedules and so on but for the most part, it was a good day. We had to stop at Wal-Mart on the way home, along with thousands of other people who were buying last minute ingredients for dinner and baskets full of school supplies, to get dog food and diet coke – basic staples around here. Our fellow shoppers all seemed to be fairly cheerful even though the lines were long and many of us were obviously tired. As we stood in line we talked about things like who had the dog food coupon, how many watermelons did we really think that we could eat, what the rest of the week looked like, and how it was going to take a while to get used to getting up at 5:30 again. The other thing that it is going to take getting used to is being apart all day. Though teaching doesn’t pay as well as other careers, having nearly three months off together over the summer is worth a few zeros on the paycheck. The point here is that at 5:00 yesterday afternoon after having been at school all day, we were glad to be together.

We had been in line about five minutes when the gentleman in front of us turned around and said, “It is so nice to see two people our age (he was fiftyish as well) so happy to be with one another and still in love. Many of us rush through life and miss it.” We quickly admitted that it was “Take Two” for both of us but that yes indeed, we were very happy together.
Once we made our way through the line and were wheeling our groceries to the car, we, almost in unison, asked each other what that man in front of us saw. How could he tell from a conversation about coupons, and course loads, and classrooms with leaky ceilings that we are blissfully happy? I must admit that he is not the first person to make such a comment to us though in most of these other instances our affection for one another was much more obvious. So, what does happiness look like?

I don’t know. I have a better grasp on what it does not look like. It can’t be seen in stuff. If you are unhappy, no thing will ever make you happy. It may temporarily mask the pain of being unhappy, but you will still be unhappy. Power and control will not make you happy. Unless you take control of your own unhappiness, power over and control of others will not do it either.

I think that real happiness is only possible when you truly love yourself. To love yourself you must accept who you are - the good person that you are as well as the imperfect person. It is only when we can love ourselves that we are able to accept the love of another person. It is these two things, love of self and love shared with others, that create happiness. Life is not a solo journey. We are meant to share it with others. Pursuing happiness means surrounding ourselves with people who love themselves, not in an egotistical but a realistic way, and who spread that love beyond themselves.

As I think back to yesterday and our time in line at Wal-Mart, I find myself thinking that the comment made by the man in front of us may be the greatest compliment that a person can give another. To be told that our happiness is obvious means that we have achieved the American dream - something that eludes so many.

The Bigger Picture

Despite the trials and tribulations of our trip to Delaware that I recounted yesterday, we did have a wonderful trip. Lewes is a quaint town full of friendly people. Everything necessary is within walking distance - except the AT&T store. We walked "uptown" for our morning coffee, strolled the streets visiting the unique shops, and spent the evenings walking to the beach and enjoying the beautiful architecture and gardens that line the streets. Below is a sampling of the sights of Lewes, Delaware.

This is my dad's house. It looks out onto the canal that leads into the Delaware Bay.

The canal . . .

It seemed that every house was surrounded by beautiful English style gardens. The variety of colors and textures was amazing. As we walked along admiring all that there was to see, we were greeted by many of the locals, two-legged and four legged, who enjoyed their evenings on screened front porches. The following picture does not do justice to the beauty of these gardens when viewed as a whole, but it does capture the sense of joy that we experienced as we walked by all the plants and flowers blowing in the ocean breeze.

For obvious reasons I am not a beach person. The thought of sitting on the beach baking in the scorching sun with sand in uncomfortable places and jellyfish swimming beside me is just not appealing. However, there is nothing like walking along the nearly deserted shoreline at either dusk or sunrise. These times of day offer an amazing sense of peace.

St. Peter's Episcopal church.

Another picture of the beach at dusk.

The Overfalls, seen in the background of this picture, is a lightship that has been restored by the Lewes Historical Society. It is a floating lighthouse like was used of the coast of Lewes to safeguard boats as they navigated the breakwaters..

Another view of the canal . . .

Our eight days on the Delaware coast were certainly a nice contrast to the summer days in Texas!

Let's Talk About Stuff

I know it looks like I can't make a plan and stick to it since, despite my promise to write more regularly, it has been so long since I last posted. This time, it really is not my fault. Sometimes the circumstances of life intervene and the plans and ideals that we strive to live by just aren't what is happening. So it has been the last few weeks.

Weber, Erin, And I travelled to the coast of Delaware to visit with my dad (and many, many other friends and relatives - including my 92 year old grandmother.) Lewes, Delaware is a big shift from Dallas or even Sanger, Texas. It is a small beach resort town on the coast of our nation's first state. During the summer months it is overrun by sun worshippers who will inevitably put the next generation of dermatologist's children through post graduate school at the most expensive institutions of higher learning. For now however, they are doing their part to keep the local economy of this small town "green" - economically, not ecologically.

I have been visiting Lewes for my entire life. My grandparents lived there, first in a cottage on the beach and then in a 1760's house that they restored. It is filled with antiques, family photographs, and momentos of stories that span many generations. Until his death in the mid nineties, my grandfather lived here. A few years after that, my parents moved into the "family homestead." With the exception of an addition that Mom and Dad added, nothing much has changed here since my first memories, which date back to the mid sixties. The furniture is the same; the lighting is the same; even the smells (good ones) are the same. Despite all this familiarity, I didn't much like making the obligatory trips to Lewes when I was a teenager. To my adolescent mind, there was nothing to do. Being sympathetic to the adolescent with whom I now live, I had decided that we would make this trek back east while she was otherwise engaged so I could spare her that sense of boredom that I knew she would find within our first 24 hours. Erin is a better person than I was at her age. She insisted on going with us.

Two days into our visit, as we were strolling down the quaint downtown streets headed toward one of the local museums, I got a phone call from Offspring No. 1, who was in Chicago finishing summer school, saying that her apartment had been robbed. Her computer and other electronics were taken as well as similar items belonging to her roommates. Though the computer had to be replaced immediately (because no one can live without a computer these days), the bigger issue was the feeling of being violated. In the long run, the stuff was just stuff, I told her

I was forced to live by my own words the next evening when Offspring No.2, who had borrowed my computer to help alleviate the adolescent boredom that I spoke of earlier, came downstairs and announced, "I broke your computer." "Do you mean it crashed?", I said. "No, I mean I broke it. The screen is cracked." When I asked the obvious next question about how this happened, I got the obvious teen aged answer, "I don't know. I put it down and when I went to use it, it was broken." I deliberated briefly about the best response - anger or tears. Ultimately I decided to take a deep breath, say very little, remember those words "stuff is just stuff", and ask Weber to go upstairs to survey the damage.

Through some frugal web shopping and friends in low places who happen to be handy with screwdrivers, my computer is now fixed and I am back in business. However, it was this little episode that interrupted my promise to make (almost) regular blog posts.

I had just about recovered from all of the bad encounters with electronics of the past few days when Offspring No. 2 tripped and dropped her iPhone shattering its screen and this rendering it useless. Oh yeah. Did I mention she was walking and playing games when this happened? It's just stuff! It is just stuff! It is just stuff! FYI - There is no App to miraculously reconstruct the shattered touch creen of an iPhone. This problem would not have been so urgent if we were all heading back to Dallas together. Unfortunately, we were putting Erin on a plane to Chicago to spend a few days with her sister. The mother in me couldn't let her go by herself with no means of communication. We headed for the AT&T store to replace the phone. This was as much for me as it was for her.

Lesson: Stuff is just stuff.
Corrolary: Stuff costs money. Sometimes it costs lots of money.

During our visit, my dad mentioned that he wasn't sure how much longer he would stay in the house. It is a lot of house and a lot of yard for one person to care for. As I looked around, all I could think was that there is a lot of stuff in this house! Suddenly my mantra of its just stuff came back to haunt me.

When is stuff just stuff and when is it not?

The First Fifty Years

Today was Mike's 50th birthday. One might expect a grand and glorious celebration. Not so much around here today. Actually, he just got back from a vacation in South Africa and decided to wait for Erin to return home from her most recent summer adventure on Saturday before having a "real"birthday celebration. However, we did not want this momentous day to pass with no acknowledgement, so we decided to have a period of reminiscence while we shared a gourmet dinner - taco salad,

We could have talked about all of Mike's accomplishments during the half century that he has been alive, or memories of his siblings, past birthdays, favorite toys, how nerdy we all looked in the 70's, living through the technological advance from 8-track to cassette tapes, the invention of the blow dryer, or TV before there was MTV. The possible topics were endless, and some of them even interesting. However, we focused on TV game shows.

How many of these do you remember?

• Match Game
• What's My Line
• The Newlywed Game
• Concentration
• Password
• The Dating Game
• High Rollers
• Hollywood Squares
• Treasure Hunt
• Let's Make A Deal
• I've Got A Secret
• Truth Or Consequences
• the 10,000 Pyramid
• Family Feud
• Joker's Wild
• The Gong Show

And if you remember the shows, do you remember who hosted them? Gene Rayburn, Chuck Woolery, Bill Cullem, Monty Hall, Allen Luden, Art Fleming, Peter Marshall, Ray Coombs, Kevin Eubanks, Wink Martindale -

Or, how about

• Who was the center square on Hollywood Squares?
• When you had to "shop" on the set with your winnings from Wheel of Fortune
• When people were ecstatic to win an avocado green refrigerator
• Jeopardy before Alex Trebek
• Wheel of Fortune before Pat Sajak
• Allen Luden's wife

It was a fun trip down memory lane. I'm not sure that current TV will spark such a conversation thirty or forty years from now. Most of what is on television now is not worth remembering tomorrow, forget nearly a half century from now. I may be wrong. Perhaps on Mike's hundredth birthday we will all be sitting around reminiscing about the 2009 American Idol upset and still wondering if Adam Lambert finished in second place because he was gay.