This bit of wisdom comes from Paula Underwood, clan mother of the Turtle clan, Iroquois nation - http://ijourney.org
When I was a little bitty kiddy, about five, my Dad began a process … anytime somebody came and said something to us, my dad would say, "You remember what he said, honey girl?” I would tell my father what the person said until I got so good at it that I could repeat verbatim even long presentations of what the person had said.
And he did this all the time.
Finally, one day there was this old gentleman, Richard Thompson. I still remember his name, he lived across the street. And every time my Dad started to mow the lawn, there came Mr. Thompson. And so I would stand out there.
Dad says, “You might come and listen to this man, honey girl. He’s pretty interesting.” And so I listened to him, and then my dad would say, “What did you hear him say?” And I would tell him.
Well, eventually I was repeating all the stories he liked to share with my dad verbatim. I knew them all by heart.
And my Dad says, “You’re getting pretty good at that. But did you hear his heart?" And I thought, what? So I went around for days with my ear to people's chest trying to hear their hearts.
Finally my Dad created another learning situation for me by asking my mother to read an article from the newspaper. He says “Well, I guess if you want to understand that article, you have to read between the lines."
I thought, "Oh, read between the lines. Hear between the words."
So the next time I listened to Mr. Thompson’s stories, I tried to listen between the words. My Dad said, “I know you know his story, but did you hear his heart?” And I said, "Yes. He is very lonely and comes and shares his memories with you again and again because he’s asking you to keep him company in his memories."
It just came out of me. In other words, my heart echoed his heart.
And when you can listen at that level, then you can hear not only the people. If you really pay attention, you can hear what the Universe is saying.
May 30, 2011
May 28, 2011
Drifting Off
You know that sweet time at night when you find just the right position, on your side, on your back, flat on your belly with your arms under the pillows and puffing them up for your head ... and there are those comfortable moments just before drifting off to sleep?
I like that the right spot isn't right every night. You have to search for it, take the time to try different spots until you find the right fit. Put in effort to make it work. After a brainiac day, it's my left side all the way. After a day on my feet, definitely on the right. And so on.
After leaving a place after a lot of years there, there's a tight link at first with your friends but gradually you start to notice things. Like there's an awkwardness in trying to swap stories and laughs now that the kids aren't playing together. Like talking about your day is ok but you don't share the same people, or the same bargains. Like you begin to carry on with other local people and sometimes that other friendship ends up just behind the curve.
Successful distance friendships are truly astonishing. Somehow two people followed through on the promise to set aside part of their life just for each other. They let it be about something deeper than where or how they met. They share in calling. They crave the sound of shared laughter, the words of encouragement and support, the listening and celebrating a relationship they take responsibility for and share equally. Like a good marriage, maybe. Fair and equitable; hard work but worthwhile.
That is why electronic communication doesn't work as well for me. It messes with the rules of friendship. It doesn't nourish the aspects of friendship that feed its roots, at least not typically. FB / twitter / texting / email most often are used Instead Of rather than In Addition To. Saying hi once a week online and spying on what's going on seems to satisfy some people's curiosity but give me the old call-me-up-and-let's-chat-awhile any day of the week. I'll make the time.
I made the mistake of accepting an e-invite to an event I haven't even been personally invited to attend. How could I know how much of an afterthought it would make me feel?
I see no comfortable spot in the direction this is heading ... well, you catch my drift.
I like that the right spot isn't right every night. You have to search for it, take the time to try different spots until you find the right fit. Put in effort to make it work. After a brainiac day, it's my left side all the way. After a day on my feet, definitely on the right. And so on.
After leaving a place after a lot of years there, there's a tight link at first with your friends but gradually you start to notice things. Like there's an awkwardness in trying to swap stories and laughs now that the kids aren't playing together. Like talking about your day is ok but you don't share the same people, or the same bargains. Like you begin to carry on with other local people and sometimes that other friendship ends up just behind the curve.
Successful distance friendships are truly astonishing. Somehow two people followed through on the promise to set aside part of their life just for each other. They let it be about something deeper than where or how they met. They share in calling. They crave the sound of shared laughter, the words of encouragement and support, the listening and celebrating a relationship they take responsibility for and share equally. Like a good marriage, maybe. Fair and equitable; hard work but worthwhile.
That is why electronic communication doesn't work as well for me. It messes with the rules of friendship. It doesn't nourish the aspects of friendship that feed its roots, at least not typically. FB / twitter / texting / email most often are used Instead Of rather than In Addition To. Saying hi once a week online and spying on what's going on seems to satisfy some people's curiosity but give me the old call-me-up-and-let's-chat-awhile any day of the week. I'll make the time.
I made the mistake of accepting an e-invite to an event I haven't even been personally invited to attend. How could I know how much of an afterthought it would make me feel?
I see no comfortable spot in the direction this is heading ... well, you catch my drift.
May 26, 2011
Summer Normal
It's been too long since I've checked in. Life has taken on a life of its own. That's a good thing, I guess.
I'm in full swing with the Relay For Life events -- and Rman's work is going like gang-busters. No recession in Roseville, CA.
We had a great time last weekend for Ken/Tim/Marcia's birthdays. Mike entertained us with funny stories of his adventures into Mexico and back. Yes, the $500 CraigsList motorcycle made it and so did the boy: all 3,200 miles of it in 2 weeks, if you can believe that. He's glad he went and I'm glad he's home -- sounds like a win-win to me.
We've been to the horse races and The City and played an enthusiastic audience for Lodi High's Fiddler on the Roof. It was fabulous, and not just because our grandson played a leading role. Summer is trying to arrive but a couple of days a week are cloudy and rainy. Wouldn't it be nice for the whole summer to go that way? So we never take the sunshine for granted? Because by mid August I'm just about done with the whole summer and hot temperature thing and beg for rain.
The Dove family is rolling out its new models. We found Willy and Kate happily fluttering around on the ground today under the watchful eye of their mother. Not a BlueJay in sight. I guess they've passed the word that this yard is being patrolled. Kate looks just like her Mum: long slender neck, lighter gray. And Willy is a robust little chap that poops up a storm.
Graduations, birthdays, game days, a little boating around Santa Cruz, maybe a bbq or two - that's it for June. Teacher friends have their feet up at 10 in the morning for a well deserved break. And one teacher friend has a job interview on Tuesday. Fingers and toes crossed for that one.
We're kicking around the idea to bid on one of those unpaid public storage units like those Auction Hunters guys. Get our big old camping flashlights out and strategize in quiet whispers holding a couple of padlocks and a wad of cash. I knew it was a mistake to clean up the garage. I'll tell you one thing: I'm NOT getting a tattoo.
I'm in full swing with the Relay For Life events -- and Rman's work is going like gang-busters. No recession in Roseville, CA.
We had a great time last weekend for Ken/Tim/Marcia's birthdays. Mike entertained us with funny stories of his adventures into Mexico and back. Yes, the $500 CraigsList motorcycle made it and so did the boy: all 3,200 miles of it in 2 weeks, if you can believe that. He's glad he went and I'm glad he's home -- sounds like a win-win to me.
We've been to the horse races and The City and played an enthusiastic audience for Lodi High's Fiddler on the Roof. It was fabulous, and not just because our grandson played a leading role. Summer is trying to arrive but a couple of days a week are cloudy and rainy. Wouldn't it be nice for the whole summer to go that way? So we never take the sunshine for granted? Because by mid August I'm just about done with the whole summer and hot temperature thing and beg for rain.
Graduations, birthdays, game days, a little boating around Santa Cruz, maybe a bbq or two - that's it for June. Teacher friends have their feet up at 10 in the morning for a well deserved break. And one teacher friend has a job interview on Tuesday. Fingers and toes crossed for that one.
We're kicking around the idea to bid on one of those unpaid public storage units like those Auction Hunters guys. Get our big old camping flashlights out and strategize in quiet whispers holding a couple of padlocks and a wad of cash. I knew it was a mistake to clean up the garage. I'll tell you one thing: I'm NOT getting a tattoo.
May 17, 2011
The Other Shoe Just Dropped
A friend of mine finally heard back from the bank.
About 2 years ago they were in serious financial distress with a crazy-ass mortgage and no way to pay. They did the sensible thing and put the place up for sale with an agent, thinking they could sell it and get out from underneath. It's a big and beautiful place and well kept, and a buyer appeared in a relatively short amount of time.
The offer was good but no one knew precisely what the house was worth. And then the appraisal came back $100K under the offer and everything fell apart. (Nowhere do people buy homes for more than they're worth except in brain-impaired Silicon Valley.)
BofA didn't even bother to respond, and so the offer and the buyers evaporated.
Fast forward two years. The house is currently worth a lot less than in 2009, and NOW the bank approves a short sale for them? And gives them 4 months to do it in? With no buyer in the wings?
Had the bank just let them sell it in 2009 when they needed to, it would have saved them 24 additional months of crushing debt and two bankruptcies.
Banks are starting to really piss me off.
About 2 years ago they were in serious financial distress with a crazy-ass mortgage and no way to pay. They did the sensible thing and put the place up for sale with an agent, thinking they could sell it and get out from underneath. It's a big and beautiful place and well kept, and a buyer appeared in a relatively short amount of time.
The offer was good but no one knew precisely what the house was worth. And then the appraisal came back $100K under the offer and everything fell apart. (Nowhere do people buy homes for more than they're worth except in brain-impaired Silicon Valley.)
BofA didn't even bother to respond, and so the offer and the buyers evaporated.
Fast forward two years. The house is currently worth a lot less than in 2009, and NOW the bank approves a short sale for them? And gives them 4 months to do it in? With no buyer in the wings?
Had the bank just let them sell it in 2009 when they needed to, it would have saved them 24 additional months of crushing debt and two bankruptcies.
Banks are starting to really piss me off.
May 11, 2011
Listening Ears
Listening, listening.
There is anxiety in her voice, recalling the day spent at the MediCal office downtown and being clustered and crammed into a too-small, windowless office with uncomfortable chairs.
She was there to get relief from crushing medical bills after a surgery. She keeps current on a $600 a month medical plan although she can't really afford it. It used to be decent coverage with modest out-of-pocket expenses. The monthly costs have gone up and the benefits have gone down, leaving her with a co-pay of thousands of dollars she was not expecting to owe. Former work buddies tell her they too have filed for MediCal assistance to help with co-pay expenses and they are working full time.
Her disability checks are small and almost cover rent and heat and water and garbage and food. She tells me about $5 Fridays at Safeway, where you can get a turkey breast almost $4 off. She does ok, if the 14-year-old car she shares with her daughter doesn't need tires or brakes. Or if medical coverage plans stop covering actually what she needs them to cover.
This is how she came to be in the last place she ever expected to be. She worked 30 hard years to develop the skillsets she has, being both smart and educated. She has a polished resume showing job stability and has been on unemployment for nearly 2 years. I don't know about everywhere, but here the job market is saturated with Administrative Assistants and employers can and are being choosy and cheap.
Most of her applications go unanswered. It is a toss-up whether the discrimination is age-related or earnings related. An employer can't come out and ask a person's age, but they can ask the high school graduation date. I have a calculator right here in my purse: let me get it.
Add to that the fact that nearly all job applications ask about prior earnings before it can be uploaded to a website. So if you earned $25 an hour but suspect the job is paying $12, and you don't want to lie, typically that type of thing is addressed in the cover letter: ... for the right opportunity ... my salary requirements are negotiable ...
She doesn't think the machines scanning resumes are sophisticated enough to include hers in the pile that makes it to the HR tech's desk. And when she does miraculously jump all the hurdles and lands an interview, the employers see a woman hobble into the room with her 5 week old hip and 50-something everything else. They're thinking about the costs to cover an older woman with visible health issues. How can polish and experience overcome that?
Is it unfair? You bet. Illegal? Absolutely. Also impossible to prove. So I will stay a good listener for the phone calls that are coming. Unless something changes, there will be more of the same kind of day she just had.
There is anxiety in her voice, recalling the day spent at the MediCal office downtown and being clustered and crammed into a too-small, windowless office with uncomfortable chairs.
She was there to get relief from crushing medical bills after a surgery. She keeps current on a $600 a month medical plan although she can't really afford it. It used to be decent coverage with modest out-of-pocket expenses. The monthly costs have gone up and the benefits have gone down, leaving her with a co-pay of thousands of dollars she was not expecting to owe. Former work buddies tell her they too have filed for MediCal assistance to help with co-pay expenses and they are working full time.
Her disability checks are small and almost cover rent and heat and water and garbage and food. She tells me about $5 Fridays at Safeway, where you can get a turkey breast almost $4 off. She does ok, if the 14-year-old car she shares with her daughter doesn't need tires or brakes. Or if medical coverage plans stop covering actually what she needs them to cover.
This is how she came to be in the last place she ever expected to be. She worked 30 hard years to develop the skillsets she has, being both smart and educated. She has a polished resume showing job stability and has been on unemployment for nearly 2 years. I don't know about everywhere, but here the job market is saturated with Administrative Assistants and employers can and are being choosy and cheap.
Most of her applications go unanswered. It is a toss-up whether the discrimination is age-related or earnings related. An employer can't come out and ask a person's age, but they can ask the high school graduation date. I have a calculator right here in my purse: let me get it.
Add to that the fact that nearly all job applications ask about prior earnings before it can be uploaded to a website. So if you earned $25 an hour but suspect the job is paying $12, and you don't want to lie, typically that type of thing is addressed in the cover letter: ... for the right opportunity ... my salary requirements are negotiable ...
She doesn't think the machines scanning resumes are sophisticated enough to include hers in the pile that makes it to the HR tech's desk. And when she does miraculously jump all the hurdles and lands an interview, the employers see a woman hobble into the room with her 5 week old hip and 50-something everything else. They're thinking about the costs to cover an older woman with visible health issues. How can polish and experience overcome that?
Is it unfair? You bet. Illegal? Absolutely. Also impossible to prove. So I will stay a good listener for the phone calls that are coming. Unless something changes, there will be more of the same kind of day she just had.
May 10, 2011
How to Hide a Dent in the Roof
My brother reminisces about his early years with a paper route when we are together and having a glass of wine. He had a 6am morning route of the San Jose Mercury News, a mammoth paper requiring more than two hands to hold it in order to roll the papers into plastic bags on rain days. I helped sometimes but not too often and so he was left to the goodwill of friends to get it out on time.
This one particular morning was foggy and bone-chillingly cold. He and his two buddies were in the garage folding papers and the idea was hatched to deliver the papers by car. He snuck into the house for the keys and they rolled the car out of the garage silently.
In the street two boys positioned themselves on the roof, legs wrapped through the windows and around the door jambs, and the least experienced driver was behind the wheel.
The streets were nearly deserted. Jerry kept it pretty slow and the guys on the roof wiggled toward the center to hang on and toss the papers left and right. It was going pretty well until they hit the parked car.
The boys and papers flew over the hood and onto the lawn, and after an astonished moment, they scrambled up and dove into the back seat for a getaway. They finished the route from inside the car and quietly pushed the car back into the garage and replaced the keys.
This was quite an adventure! It took a while for the boys to calm down, but once they did and surveyed the damage, it wasn't too bad: just a dent in the fender with some paint scrapes. So they decided to wash the car and buff it out, and while they were doing that, they noticed water pooling on the roof from the large dent that had formed.
The collective weight of their butts was around 300 lbs (plus papers) and no way could they hide that. They tried everything. And so it was decided that they would just let it ride.
It actually took about a week for the dent to be noticed. When he was called on the carpet for it, you know that brother of mine was able to convince Mom that it must have always been there and she probably had never noticed it before.
This one particular morning was foggy and bone-chillingly cold. He and his two buddies were in the garage folding papers and the idea was hatched to deliver the papers by car. He snuck into the house for the keys and they rolled the car out of the garage silently.
In the street two boys positioned themselves on the roof, legs wrapped through the windows and around the door jambs, and the least experienced driver was behind the wheel.
The streets were nearly deserted. Jerry kept it pretty slow and the guys on the roof wiggled toward the center to hang on and toss the papers left and right. It was going pretty well until they hit the parked car.
The boys and papers flew over the hood and onto the lawn, and after an astonished moment, they scrambled up and dove into the back seat for a getaway. They finished the route from inside the car and quietly pushed the car back into the garage and replaced the keys.
This was quite an adventure! It took a while for the boys to calm down, but once they did and surveyed the damage, it wasn't too bad: just a dent in the fender with some paint scrapes. So they decided to wash the car and buff it out, and while they were doing that, they noticed water pooling on the roof from the large dent that had formed.
The collective weight of their butts was around 300 lbs (plus papers) and no way could they hide that. They tried everything. And so it was decided that they would just let it ride.
It actually took about a week for the dent to be noticed. When he was called on the carpet for it, you know that brother of mine was able to convince Mom that it must have always been there and she probably had never noticed it before.
May 6, 2011
So Goes The Nation
I was reminded of the word duplicitous this morning, which means intentionally false and misleading words and action. It was used in a news article from Britain, a country that embraces the beautiful variety of its language and the necessity of communicating on a higher plain. Britain expects its people will maintain more formalized, expansive oral and written expression. Their newspapers are smart and expect their readers to be.
I delegate to Britain on this topic, having existed since 927 AD and survived numerous conquerings that have hugely impacted the development and maintenance of their language. Britain clings to its language, and exercises the beauty and expansiveness of communication that it affords. They passionately work to preserve the rich heritage of their poetry and prose. But more than that, Britain understands that in order to preserve the language it must be used.
In America, we delegate the more expressive prose to novelists and poets and heady magazines like US News and World Report and The Economist. Ours is a simpler language: typically 4 or 5 syllable words, uncomplicated sentences, short paragraphs, lots of pictures. We want to be sure those on the lower rungs of the communication ladder will understand.
That is unfortunate. We are a new country and our language has shallow roots. Have you noticed how poorly we use words and with such little variety? Ours has become a language of catchy phrases and inside jokes, which sarcastically trivializes some very serious issues. You might want to ask someone who is unemployed if we should be taking Obamanomics seriously. Terms like Watergate and Irangate have become the identifying norm.
It is a juvenile way to communicate and certainly projects a lack of regard for ourselves. We act incapable of maintaining an educated level of communication without watering it down. Our lazy language habits cater to the least educated and least interested citizens. Would it be so wrong to up the ante and leave them behind? If oral and written communication is something our citizens do not want to strive to master, they could always tune in to Entertainment Tonight and the Six O'Clock news.
No great country can stand strong without a great language. It drives us to achieve. Evidently America thinks its citizens will not even modestly participate in a strong, educated and articulate country. And that speaks volumes to the world.
rugoing2nite?
Txt me @ 1
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cuthere
I delegate to Britain on this topic, having existed since 927 AD and survived numerous conquerings that have hugely impacted the development and maintenance of their language. Britain clings to its language, and exercises the beauty and expansiveness of communication that it affords. They passionately work to preserve the rich heritage of their poetry and prose. But more than that, Britain understands that in order to preserve the language it must be used.
In America, we delegate the more expressive prose to novelists and poets and heady magazines like US News and World Report and The Economist. Ours is a simpler language: typically 4 or 5 syllable words, uncomplicated sentences, short paragraphs, lots of pictures. We want to be sure those on the lower rungs of the communication ladder will understand.
That is unfortunate. We are a new country and our language has shallow roots. Have you noticed how poorly we use words and with such little variety? Ours has become a language of catchy phrases and inside jokes, which sarcastically trivializes some very serious issues. You might want to ask someone who is unemployed if we should be taking Obamanomics seriously. Terms like Watergate and Irangate have become the identifying norm.
It is a juvenile way to communicate and certainly projects a lack of regard for ourselves. We act incapable of maintaining an educated level of communication without watering it down. Our lazy language habits cater to the least educated and least interested citizens. Would it be so wrong to up the ante and leave them behind? If oral and written communication is something our citizens do not want to strive to master, they could always tune in to Entertainment Tonight and the Six O'Clock news.
No great country can stand strong without a great language. It drives us to achieve. Evidently America thinks its citizens will not even modestly participate in a strong, educated and articulate country. And that speaks volumes to the world.
rugoing2nite?
Txt me @ 1
K
cuthere
May 5, 2011
Wonderful Hugs
There's times when I look over at my husband's chair and miss him. He is puttering somewhere in the house, and I can hear rooting sounds of opening and closing drawers and his footsteps in the hall. The chair is a beautiful leather recliner with nail head trim that he uses every day. No one would guess it is part of the spoils of a war from a long and fierce battle to find each other.
I'm feeling an incredible sense of dis-ease as my son travels through Mexico on vacation. He posted a photo with AJ in Simi Valley on Saturday; we've spied on his account, which is linked since the college days, and there are gas fill ups to the border on Monday; and yesterday there was a VM from BofA thanking him for notifying them he would be out of the country for the next two weeks. We are awaiting word of his safe arrival in Cabo.
All the boys are half daredevil, admittedly by exposure to scuba gear and spelunking suits and snorkels when they were growing up. They rode scooters and played street hockey, baseball, soccer, football, and handball. They camped and swam and biked their way along and now that they are of age, they do all the things I never approved of: they own guns, dabble in racing 'lemon' cars and ride motorcycles.
I sometimes wonder what life would be like without them. They are such precious gifts. And so this weekend for Mother's Day is the perfect time to celebrate each of them. Two of my sons will be with us at the races on Saturday; and when the eldest returns, I promise to take time to memorize and appreciate his wonderful hug.
I'm feeling an incredible sense of dis-ease as my son travels through Mexico on vacation. He posted a photo with AJ in Simi Valley on Saturday; we've spied on his account, which is linked since the college days, and there are gas fill ups to the border on Monday; and yesterday there was a VM from BofA thanking him for notifying them he would be out of the country for the next two weeks. We are awaiting word of his safe arrival in Cabo.
All the boys are half daredevil, admittedly by exposure to scuba gear and spelunking suits and snorkels when they were growing up. They rode scooters and played street hockey, baseball, soccer, football, and handball. They camped and swam and biked their way along and now that they are of age, they do all the things I never approved of: they own guns, dabble in racing 'lemon' cars and ride motorcycles.
I sometimes wonder what life would be like without them. They are such precious gifts. And so this weekend for Mother's Day is the perfect time to celebrate each of them. Two of my sons will be with us at the races on Saturday; and when the eldest returns, I promise to take time to memorize and appreciate his wonderful hug.
May 2, 2011
On the passing of Osama Bin Laden
May 1, 2011
Statement by President George W. Bush
Earlier this evening, President Obama called to inform me that American forces killed Osama bin Laden, the leader of the al Qaeda network that attacked America on September 11, 2001. I congratulated him and the men and women of our mili...tary and intelligence communities who devoted their lives to this mission. They have our everlasting gratitude. This momentous achievement marks a victory for America, for people who seek peace around the world, and for all those who lost loved ones on September 11, 2001. The fight against terror goes on, but tonight America has sent an unmistakable message: No matter how long it takes, justice will be done.
--by: George W. Bush Presidential Center
May 2, 2011
My statement: Any day we 'pass off' Bin Laden is a good day for the world.
Statement by President George W. Bush
Earlier this evening, President Obama called to inform me that American forces killed Osama bin Laden, the leader of the al Qaeda network that attacked America on September 11, 2001. I congratulated him and the men and women of our mili...tary and intelligence communities who devoted their lives to this mission. They have our everlasting gratitude. This momentous achievement marks a victory for America, for people who seek peace around the world, and for all those who lost loved ones on September 11, 2001. The fight against terror goes on, but tonight America has sent an unmistakable message: No matter how long it takes, justice will be done.
--by: George W. Bush Presidential Center
May 2, 2011
My statement: Any day we 'pass off' Bin Laden is a good day for the world.
Newsworthy Enough
I am always surprised by violence on tv. It comes in the most innocent ways: a commercial for something on later in the day; a punctuation to nearly all news casts. People sit with eyes glued to the screen and don't even flinch.
But not me. I know what real life is. I understand the difference. But something about seeing dangerous and violent situations kicks in my self preservation instinct and an overwhelming sense of dread. I have to remove myself.
Slowly and cautiously I try to sidestep violence and brutality in the media. It is increasingly harder to do with video games and news clips and free PG-13 or R movies on every channel. There are eons of sitdrams and overly zealous reporters on the 6:00 news thinking the gory details and videos of brutality are what we want to see.
It's not. When Prince William married, I guarantee you I did not want to see photos of his mother's mangled car and relive the details of her horrific death. On my marriage day, no one paraded pictures of my parents in their final moments.
Why would anyone want to go there with the flip of a switch and watch over and over our favorite actors being blown up and brutalized? Is it so appealing now that violence should be mainstreamed?
It makes me heartsick. I couldn't handle the violence and brutality in the 1970s. And today? Today I can't even sit still for most movies. I emphatically do NOT want to witness gory and vicious crimes as a helpless observer. It is not the least bit entertaining.
We seat belt our children in the back of the car, feed them the best and most wholesome foods, love and nurture them, teach them to walk and then later sit beside them on the sofa while Bruce Willis blows the head off an adversary and throws him out a five-story window. Right there with their hands in the popcorn bowl, we are teaching them something really important. We are showing them how inhabitable life will be.
I know the world is complicated. But it is my world, too. Why were our news crews so surprised when the Japanese people handled so graciously the series of recent devastating disasters? And when no one lashed out, wailed and moaned, or tossed blame around, why were they so willing to pack up and move on? Not newsworthy enough without the Western drama?
Who decided for us that violence is entertainment, anyway? And how can we voice a dissenting vote? Life is a real life, magnificent drama of wonderful experiences. Leave us to discover for ourselves what is in store rather than forcing the conclusion that it will be a vicious, unsafe and violent world.
But not me. I know what real life is. I understand the difference. But something about seeing dangerous and violent situations kicks in my self preservation instinct and an overwhelming sense of dread. I have to remove myself.
Slowly and cautiously I try to sidestep violence and brutality in the media. It is increasingly harder to do with video games and news clips and free PG-13 or R movies on every channel. There are eons of sitdrams and overly zealous reporters on the 6:00 news thinking the gory details and videos of brutality are what we want to see.
It's not. When Prince William married, I guarantee you I did not want to see photos of his mother's mangled car and relive the details of her horrific death. On my marriage day, no one paraded pictures of my parents in their final moments.
Why would anyone want to go there with the flip of a switch and watch over and over our favorite actors being blown up and brutalized? Is it so appealing now that violence should be mainstreamed?
It makes me heartsick. I couldn't handle the violence and brutality in the 1970s. And today? Today I can't even sit still for most movies. I emphatically do NOT want to witness gory and vicious crimes as a helpless observer. It is not the least bit entertaining.
We seat belt our children in the back of the car, feed them the best and most wholesome foods, love and nurture them, teach them to walk and then later sit beside them on the sofa while Bruce Willis blows the head off an adversary and throws him out a five-story window. Right there with their hands in the popcorn bowl, we are teaching them something really important. We are showing them how inhabitable life will be.
I know the world is complicated. But it is my world, too. Why were our news crews so surprised when the Japanese people handled so graciously the series of recent devastating disasters? And when no one lashed out, wailed and moaned, or tossed blame around, why were they so willing to pack up and move on? Not newsworthy enough without the Western drama?
Who decided for us that violence is entertainment, anyway? And how can we voice a dissenting vote? Life is a real life, magnificent drama of wonderful experiences. Leave us to discover for ourselves what is in store rather than forcing the conclusion that it will be a vicious, unsafe and violent world.
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