36 Years

I read the other day that it was Anita Bryant who really juiced the anti-gay movement when she coined the battle cry "Save Our Children." She worked to organize conservative parents to fight against the terror of gay parenthood. "Please join us in voting for the human rights of children — voting for decency." That was in 1977.

Growing up in Southern California there were several things I didn't like about Anita Bryant, not the least of which was the fact she had taken employment doing ads for Florida orange juice. Now, 36 years later and looking back, I feel this woman, the fervor, the tide that swelled from that movement-- while I know it is all still very much alive, more and more it is beginning to be recognized for the aberration it is: scared little people trying to create a safe reality.

Unfortunately, what has been envisioned and promoted is neither safe nor reality. Sadder still, the intent is not all that far removed from the way we function in this country as a whole: Rather than trusting in the power of tolerance and acceptance of others, rather than embracing the resource that is diversity, we chose to confront, attack, and attempt to control the social and political systems we don't understand and which seem so different from our own.

Perhaps we're hopelessly lost in the biology of human nature and we will never learn to accept and care about others in an open and holistic manner. Perhaps we will simply continue our course of fear, attack, and denial until we finally reach that point where we can each be certain we are, in fact, safe, happy, and free of all conflict. The grave.

Out of the Mouths of Babes

Sooner or later it happens to every parent. You sit there and suddenly a word or phrase pops out of your kid's mouth that is at once inappropriate and all too familiar. Like the other night: Tam's resting on the couch, Ev and I are sitting in chairs watching the Yankees and the Red Sox. There was a wild pitch, it hit the catcher's shoe, and went flying off behind the plate allowing a runner to score.

Suddenly, as if a button had been pushed, Evan jumps to life: "What-the-hell! Did you see that. He kicked the ball!! That's ridiculous!"

I calmly explained to Ev that the catcher did not kick the ball, he was struck by a wild pitch. Then I turned and glanced in the direction of the couch where Tam's head had popped right up over the armrest at the sound of Evan's astute commentary.

We ended up just letting it pass. No lecture. No correction. No scolding. We figured he'd learned it from his grand father, rolled our eyes, and shook our heads. Then, of course, we found ourselves using the same expression a half dozen times between the two of us over the next two days.

It's not so much that he used the expression that gives a parent concern. It's the thought of getting that note sent home from school one day in the not too distant future.  We can try rehearsing now, "we have no idea where he would learn to say something like that!" His teacher doesn't have kids of her own. It might work. Then again, we'd only be fooling ourselves. Everyone knows how this happens.

At this point I guess we can just be glad he's using his expletives in the proper setting and context. His response did seem rather spot-on.

All Action No Conscience

Kansas House Speaker Ray Merrick, a Republican, watches the chamber's electronic tally board as it approves a sweeping anti-abortion bill Friday at the Statehouse in Topeka. At left is Majority Leader Jene Vickrey.
NO WIZARD

I am sad, mad, and frustrated almost beyond function today. This morning I read that Kansas is posed to enact legislation that recognizes life begins with fertilization and includes all manner of obstacle for a woman seeking an abortion, as well as those who would provide one.  I have to believe that we will get past this thing. Somehow, owing to science, reason, and economics, we will eventually realize the folly of these laws. Laws that are almost always written and forwarded by men. Laws that are almost always the brainchildren of women and men who believe they are acting to uphold God’s law. Laws that are promotoed by men and women who claim they are acting to recoginize the sanctity of life. Laws that are promoted to ensure that every “child” has the opportunity to come into this world and fully partake in the wonder of human life on this planet and in this country.

It must be easy to hold those beliefs. Especially when you have never, and never will, face the physical and emotional cost of carrying a pregnancy. Especially when you believe you’re perfect, or at least damn close in the eyes of your God. Especially when you can drive home in a car without fear of breakdown or concern for the price of gas. Especially when you know your child will be cared for every single day by you, a member of your household, or a member of your staff, in a safe and cozy home. Especially when you know your child will never know the serious side of want or need. Especially when you know your child will never lack for educational opportunity and support.

But, it must require an especially perverse way of thinking to enable one to hold those beliefs and ignore the consequences. To ignore the vast number of children who are seriously injured or die each year at the hands of an abusive parent. To ignore the vast number of children warehoused in foster homes. To ignore the vast number of children in this country who sleep homeless, who are all but discarded by a seriously damaged parent, who never know what it’s like not to be hungry. To propose ongoing cuts to social programs like Headstart, unemployment benefits, job training, schools, the arts, and all manner of social welfare programs.

I guess I’d like these supposedly well-meaning legislators to have a seat in a pediatrician’s office here, where I live. Or in any other poor county in this country. Or in the heart of any major city. Just let them drink in the wholesale neglect. Drink in the sight of a troubled and angry child—at the age of 2. Drink in the sight of incapable moms dragging their children around by the arms, yelling, pushing, hitting. Get the full impact of a child hydrated with high sugar drinks and nourished on a high carb, high fat diet.

After a week or so of that, perhaps he or she can remind me, once again, as to the gift of life in every circumstance. Remind me again of just how much your God cares for these little ones. Remind me again of what a great service it is you provide by eliminating the teaching of birth control in the schools and the elimination of ready access to abortion.

Remind me. Because, from where I live and from what I see, day in and day out,  I’ve sure as hell forgotten.

Spring Fever

The Cone Zone opened here yesterday in my neck of the woods. I know this because Ev has been reminding his mother and me of the fact that it would open on April 5th for about a month now.

These little ice cream places are fairly frequently occurring dots on the landscape here in Michigan. Certainly every small town has at least one place where you can go for ice cream: hand packed in 2 dozen flavors; soft serve in another 20; shakes, malts, flurries. On a summer afternoon or a warm summer night the line goes out to the street. And you can just forget about it after soccer on Saturdays.

I promised Ev we'd go, and we did. It was a beautiful sunny opening day, even if it was only 41 degrees. I figured we'd go through the drive-thru, he'd get his Superman ice cream in a cup, and we'd be on our way. So we went.

Apparently I misunderstand just how widely loved this little ice cream stand is here in town. We had our choice: Wait in a drive-thru line of about 10 cars or park the car and stand in a line extending to the street in 40 degree weather.

Talk about spring fever. We were a bit chilly standing there for 10 minutes waiting our turn to order. But it must have been a lot worse for the folks who showed up in flip-flops and shorts.

Around these parts, when you're done with winter, you're done with winter!

Deli-icious

I read this story the other morning. I had to. When I see a story about deli I smell pastrami and lox and my mouth starts to water. Then I read where they feature a "grilled eggplant Rueben." Rather than walking out right then and there I stayed with the article all the way through the soup course of bone marrow matzoh balls in a ginger infused broth.

The problem for me is, well actually, two problems for me are, one, I'm a traditional kinda guy and two, I don't live where great deli is an easily accessible option. So, doing the math, when I have access to deli I don't want to try an inventive twist on a tradition bagel with lox. I want the real deal. I'm willing to go with reduced fat cream cheese but otherwise, just bring me the plate with the lox, the schmear, the capers, onion, chopped egg, and tomato. It's not rocket science, why make it complicated?

I've been eating meatless for about 3 years now and I must say, I feel better. But I've also learned that when it comes to certain foods, and deli is certainly one of them, there is no substitute for the real thing. If I'm gonna fall off the wagon, I'm going for the gusto-- and hold the egg plant.

Cheers

Too good to pass up: I have a 90 year-old patient I've been taking care of over the past few days. He has a terrible hand infection that requires frequent trips to the OR for clean-up and dressing changes. He's alert and snappy if not slightly forgetful.

In the OR on Saturday morning as he settled onto the OR table he looks at me and asks, "You ever drink on the job?" "No" I responded, a bit surprised and wondering why he would ask. His response to my answer in the negative? "You haven't lived."

At ninety, he should know.

Un-Educated

A recent report about cheating among Atlanta educators brings to light the grossly mis-concieved  national trend toward accountability in education. The trend is probably the brain storm fart of some highly degreed educator who has never even spent a full semester standing in front of a classroom full of kids. Instead, probably scared to death of the responsibility and monumental challenge faced by frontline teachers everywhere, this/these brainiacs came up with the genius idea that we should hold teachers accountable based on the performance of their students on standardized tests.

I watched a short film the other evening called "Becoming13" that followed three 12 year-olds in their thirteenth year. One of the remarkable observations the film allows is the staggering difference and influence of parental involvement, judgement, and steering. And there's the rub: Teachers cannot be held wholly accountable for the work of their students any more than a car can be held accountable for a crash. A car can be accountable for causing a crash but it's a far less common occurrence than the failure of the human factor. Likewise, a teacher is occasionally bad and responsible for poor performance but, far more often than not, it is the home, the parents, that should shoulder the blame for poor performance.

And so here we are, reading about a series of educators motivated to cheat on behalf of their students in order to keep their jobs and, I presume, earn their various incentives and bonuses.

I'm sympathetic and cynical in part owing to the fact that doctors and hospitals in America are being held to the same standard more and more. It's a little harder to cheat in healthcare, though. It's difficult to hide illness and death.

The bottom line is we seem to be trying to address our most serious social problems from the wrong end of the equation. In a society that is characterized more and more by a lack of personal integrity and responsibility, by parents with no commitment to their child's safety, health, and education, in a society where we are constantly seduced to overeat and enjoy the wrong kinds of food, a society where it just has to be someone else's fault-- we are blaming those who are left trying to deal with the mess rather than those who are making it in the first place.

Those educators in Atlanta were wrong to do what they did. The system, however, is the larger offender.