Thursday, January 28, 2010
The other day, I could not find my pedometer. My first thought? Well, I can always buy a new one; they're not too expensive. My next thought--oops. No, I can't. Rewind. Try again. Isn't that the way so much of our immediate gratification American mind works? I don't have what I need/want. (Usually it's the latter. Do I need a pedometer?) But the nearest store is only . . . well, it's at my fingertips as I type this, because I bought my last two pedometers online. And I can buy anything I desire there again, pretty much, and probably at the one-stop super virtual store, Amazon. With one-click shopping.
But when I can't . . . I don't know what to do. Let's face it, most of us raised post-1950 and up really don't know what to do if we can't just buy our way out of a situation. No, I don't mean like a parking ticket situation; I mean like a "what am I going to wear to my next speaking engagement?" or "what is my child going to do to replace her torn school folder?" situation. I had not truly realized, because I had not experienced, how much the American mind has to do a complete rewire when "buying stuff" is not an option. Yes, I've seen it, as on our mission trip to China, but I've never felt it. And that, my friends, is an entirely different level. Not a bad one to be on, from where I'm standing right now.
Second, I have discovered a great freedom. When I go into a store, I know I don't even have to waste any time perusing the clothes racks, or household appliances, or electronics. I head for the food or toiletries, and that's it. If I'm in a shopping center, or passing by a store that I may have gone in "just to look" previously, I can stroll right by anyplace that doesn't have lettuce or laundry detergent as one of its main ingredients.
Have you any idea how freeing that is? I never knew. There is absolutely no pressure from others, or curiosity from me, to stop and spend an idle fifteen minutes that turns into a "wow, where did that hour go?" I am completely free to reach only the objective for which I started out and go home to spend my time with things I truly do enjoy more. Like scrubbing toilets. Well, maybe not. But things like talking to my kids rather than running errands with them. Brainstorming with them how to replace a lost wallet and then making one together. We did that when they were little and we were poor. But now? Not so much.
So thus far? Harder than I thought. Better than I thought. Both good things. And by the way, my child repaired her folder with multi-colored duct tape. She now has the coolest folder in class.
Saturday, January 23, 2010
Friday, January 22, 2010
Thursday, January 21, 2010
It should have occurred to Marilyn that her life lacked something and, in darker times, I suppose it did. I wonder, now, how she felt about never having the chance to fall in love, never having a sleepover, never wearing a formal dress and corsage for a dance, never running through a field of dandelions. Remember, this was the 60-70's, when disabled people were not seen and not heard. I wish I had known her in my adulthood to ask these questions and really know her.
But Marilyn didn't act like she thought her life was less than worthwhile. It was, in fact, Marilyn who taught me never to let anyone say, "You can't do that." She fought for her education. She fought for a life of dignity. And in some way, I know it was watching that happen that made me the "never say die" person I have become. In point of fact, I kind of enjoy the challenge of the word "can't."
"You can't get though college with an alcoholic father and no financial support." Watch me.
"You can't go to a conservative seminary and a conservative church and be a female pastor." Who says?
"You can't succeed with your own disability (mild version of Tourette's)." Why not?
"You can't survive the kidney disease that killed half your relatives." Still here.
Honestly, that doesn't mean I'm some sort of indestructible amazon (the warrior, not the bookseller). I know it's all God. I know sometimes stubbornness has its drawbacks. But it's also part my sister. And on National Celebration of Life Day, she deserves some credit.
Don't let us become a society that doubts the value of those who are "less than perfect." We're all less than perfect. In some, it's just more visible. And I've yet to see a good definition of perfect, anyway, when it comes to a human being. Don't allow our culture to cheapen the lives of those who are born with disabilities but still teach us so much with their existence. That sounds like I believe their existence is "all about us," but that's not what I mean. It's all about them, and it's all about God, and we're just lucky bystanders.
I don't like to get political here, and I am not putting a stamp of approval on any candidate for office, but I remember hearing that the same group who criticized Sarah Palin for hunting animals also criticized her for not aborting her disabled child. Now, whether you are conservative or liberal, democrat or republican, does that not strike you as a little morally messy?
I'm not here to crusade for a political cause. I'm writing here to crusade for Marilyn, and those like her, who are imperfect people on an imperfect journey. Like all of us. I know that I, for one, would be a lesser person without them.
Tomorrow is definitely one of the stranger holidays on the list. And many are very strange. Tomorrow, invented by some person somewhere, we celebrate National Answer Your Cat's Questions Day. So in honor of my three cats, I have prepared answers to the questions I suspect they will pose to me on this day. For instance:
Merry: Why is there a hamster in this house if I cannot eat him?
Humans are strange. Some rodents we positively encourage you to hunt and scarf down, so long as you refrain from leaving their heads as offerings on our pillows. Other rodents we actually like and keep in cages and feed and pet. There appears to be little difference between them, except for the no tail issue, but you would do well to leave the hamster cage where it is on the laundry room counter. The humans do feed you. Hamsters are friends, not food.
Thespian: Why is that other four-footed furry creature here?
Dogs are man's best friend. Well, actually I prefer you cats. But don't tell the dog that. She is sweet and old and far more scared of you than you ever have been of her. Please practice live and let live detente.
Pippin: And what's up with that stupid rabbit? Why can't I get in and go after him?
Because that rabbit could kick your butt. Literally. This is for your own good. Trust me. Trust is not something that comes naturally to cats. But attacking that rabbit would be like Taiwan declaring war on China. Sure, you will inflict a few wounds, but your're toast in the end.
Merry: Why did you get that kitten?
Well, we didn't. She invaded. I know--ever since, she's been invading your private lap space, bed space, and leave-me-alone-you-stupid-cat space. But you were young once too. It's probably payback.
Merry: Why can't we go outside like all the other cats?
Because, contrary to your inflated sense of self, you cannot take on a coyote. I don't care what Fluffy's mother does. I'm your mother.
Pippin: Why can't I have more food?
Because you're obese. Like people, obese cats have shorter lives and are prone to all kinds of illness. I didn't make you eat your way to that belly that sways under you like a 56-year-old guy in a Speedo. Don't whine to me because I care about you. And no, you can't eat the dog food.
Merry: What is the meaning of life?
Get people to give you all you want simply because you're cute. It works similarly in humans, I hear, if you're young and (usually) blonde.
Thespian: Why can't I ever catch that squirrel?
I realize that in cat world, glass doesn't exist. But in people world, it separates you from that teasing squirrel two inches from your face. This teaches you to deal with life's frustrations. Advertised jobs that were never truly 'open' and professors who psychologically cannot give out perfect scores serve the same general purpose for humans. You'll never get that squirrel. Feel lucky. Feel very lucky.
Pippin: Why does Merry always win even though I outweigh him big time?
Um, how to put this diplomatically? You're just, intellectually challenged, Pip. You're the offensive guard, and Merry's the quarterback. You may be able to squash him, but he'll always call the plays. You're Dwayne Johnson; he's Johnny Depp. You're a bulldozer and he's a contractor. You're both needed in life, but he's always going to make the bigger bucks. Sorry. All of us must learn to accept our lot in life. If it helps, you're a really sweet offensive guard.
Everyone: Why do you not understand I am to be the center of your attention?
Stand in line guys. Take a number. There are a lot more who seem to feel that way, too.
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
I must have been one of the most cynical elementary school kids ever born. I rejected almost all of the childrens media icon offerings. I wondered why I should love a constantly grinning mouse who sounded like he was on helium. I believed Donald Duck not only couldn't speak properly but really ought to wear pants. I thought Mr. Magoo should retire to some old folks home and stop messing up other peoples' lives. I had no use for Popeye, who sang like a buzzard with a cold and might give my mother ideas about feeding me spinach. Shaggy needed a shave. And Goofy? Well, the name pretty much said it all.
But the most embarrassing admission is that as a child I never would have celebrated Monday--the birthday of A.A. Milne, creator of Winnie the Pooh. Yes, January 18 is official Pooh Day. I had no respect for a bear of little brain. Not to mention--Pooh? Really? That's just asking for disdain. Besides, he doesn't wear pants, either.
Since that misguided childhood, however, I've come to a profound appreciation of the stuffed with fluff fellow. Pooh, in fact, represents all that is good in life. Or at least, a lot of it. As Robert Fulghum learned all he needed to know in kindergarten, so I've learned much from Pooh.
--Watching the stars is a very worthwhile use of your time.
--Watching with a friend is even better.
--Something sweet in the cupboard always helps any situation.
--A good body image is important. If you're "short, fat, and proud of that" don't let anyone tell you otherwise.
--Sometimes, those of little brain can solve the biggest problems.
--A sturdy umbrella can become a boat, and so in much of life, being resourceful and creative pays off.
--It's nice to have friends who come in all shapes, sizes, and personalities. You never know when you'll need a practical Rabbit or a spontaneous Tigger. Value them all.
--Living life trusting in others' goodness and being occasionally disappointed is better than living in suspicion and being occasionally surprised.
--Sometimes it's best just to follow people we love into the woods and not ask what's ahead. If we knew the future, we might not have the courage to go.
--Don't disguise who you are. If you dress up as a little black raincloud and think you're fooling anyone, you're going to get stung.
--Being in too much of a hurry can make you miss the real goal.
--Usually, smaller words communicate better than big ones.
--Work at relationships so you are able to say, "If you live to be 100, I hope I live to be 100 minus 1 day, so I never have to live without you."
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
Having recently finished assisting with the production of Alice in Wonderland (in which child number three played Tweedledee. Perfectly, of course), I feel an affinity for today, Lewis Carroll's birthday. I have to admit, I never really liked Disney's version of Alice. It seemed to me to make an offbeat, seemingly pointless book into a truly pointless movie. Surprisingly, my kids agreed. Their reactions to the Disney Alice movie:
Tell-it-like-it-is child number one: He's on drugs.
Free-spirit child number two: (while twirling about the room) ""'In my youth', Father William replied to his son, 'I feared it might injure the brain; But, now that I'm perfectly sure I have none, Why, I do it again and again.'"
Analytic child number three: This makes no sense. Why would anyone do that?
But now that I'm older, I have come to a much finer appreciation of pointlessness. I mean, if we outlawed pointlessness, an awful lot of government institutions would disappear instantly.
As most of the planet knows, the new Alice in Wonderland movie debuts soon. March 5, to be precise. To celebrate the author's birthday, besides having a very rousing un-birthday party tonight for everyone but him, I decided to find some lovely quotes to ponder from Lewis Carroll, aka Charles Lutwidge Dodgson. You be the judge of whether this is nonsense. It seems awfully like the truth to me.
"It's the most curious thing I ever saw in all my life!""Begin at the beginning and go on till you come to the end; then stop."
"'But I don't want to go among mad people,' said Alice. 'Oh, you can't help that,' said the cat. 'We're all mad here.'"
"Contrariwise, if it was so, it might be; and if it were so, it would be; but as it isn't, it ain't. That's logic."
"I can't go back to yesterday - because I was a different person then."
"If you don't know where you are going, any road will get you there."
"It's a poor sort of memory that only works backward."
"One of the secrets of life is that all that is really worth the doing is what we do for others."
"She generally gave herself very good advice, (though she very seldom followed it)."
"There are three hundred and sixty-four days when you might get un-birthday presents, and only one for birthday presents, you know."
"Who in the world am I? Ah, that's the great puzzle."
And my personal favorite: "Why, sometimes I've believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast."
A long time ago, I wrote an article for some parenting magazines on why I found it important to encourage children to believe the impossible. (Good for adults, too.) More and more, it seems that our kids are bombarded with the idea that the only things worth putting their faith in are the things they can see and touch. Things that get them closer to their career path. Things that make sense. That explains, I suppose, why our schools recently cut their arts programs drastically while pretty much retaining the State Champion football team untouched.
Yet the more I know of life, the more I know that the greatest parts of it--the most wonder-inspiring and dangerous--can't be seen, or predicted, or quantified. They're found in the arc of a Planet Suite , the brush strokes of a water lily garden, the grin of an inner-city kid who just got accepted to college, the faces of a little girl from China and an American couple who just found "family." All these things should be impossible. But they should be fervently believed in.
In the Bible, we read the poetic images of trees clapping their hands and Jesus' unlikely stories of mustard seeds and lost sons. We rejoice in the improbable delight of a shepherd boy turned king or a teenage girl bearing God himself. God's love of the impossible soars through every penstroke. If He can believe it, so can I.
It's too late to begin before breakfast, but do try to believe at least six impossible things today. I'm guessing that if you succeed, you'll find it easier to get out of bed tomorrow.