Parenting in a Brand New World

"When we were kids, our parents taught us to meditate. They said 'Sit down and shut up!'" ~ unknown

Raising kids to become responsible, well-adjusted adults is pretty tricky business I think. As the mother of two teenagers, I feel sometimes like I am flailing about in unknown waters as I throw life preservers at my kids. How in the world do you nurture a sense of adventure in your children when what is most important is to protect them from harm? I decided long ago that sharing this world with my children means exposing them not only to its beauty, but also to its unsavory side...there seems no way around it.

During summers when I was a kid, my parents would take us down to the lake for a swim before bed. It meant crossing a road, so we were shepherded from the house by Mom and Dad - an unholy trio of hot kids who couldn't wait to be "the first one in." I remember one night I ran ahead, bound and determined to be the first one to the dock. My father yelled "stop" and so I did...in the middle of the road. "Did you look?" he asked. I looked in both directions and promptly replied, "Yes." "Lookit here...the only thing you're gonna see is the colour of the car that hits you." Then it hit me. Not a car...but that first feeling of vulnerability...mortality. It was a lesson, albeit a brief one, but I still remember it and - well - I couldn't tell you what I ate for lunch last Tuesday so...let's just say it stuck.

We all agree, we don't want to scare our kids, we just want them to be aware. The world needs risk-takers not martyrs and certainly not more fools. It takes courage to know when the risk outweighs the reward and the world needs heroes so we do our best to help our kids calculate risks and then attack life with purpose and clarity and confidence. We hold our breath as they test the waters and hope they survive each and every lesson as they become more practised at managing their own risks. But they are kids, and they are human, and they make mistakes.

Accidents are just that...heartbreaking tragedies that steal and cheat time away from families and friends and futures. There are no reasons to be found...no villains...no dark motives. Just a sad absence that bores its way into the community that loses a life unlived.

Too many young lives end in so many preventable ways but this one...Ben Rogers...hits home. It wasn't misadventure. It was a choice that, under different circumstances would be applauded as a responsible one. I would have done the same thing...I would have walked.

My kids were talking about Ben and, while I normally offer my opinions I could not offer anything of substance...no deeper insight or understanding. No advice. Nothing. I felt only a tightening in my chest and realized I was holding my breath.

Grandma's Little Red Book

I was thinking today of my Grandma. When she passed, a small red book came to be in my care. It is a collection of pages written in the careful penmanship of someone who spent a lifetime scrolling letters across an expansive blackboard. Careful letters canting to the right in a lazy, lovely flow of captured versus. She wrote in this book, quotes and captions that held some secret meaning for her...a cautionary tale, a life lesson or maybe just something to read when she needed to change her perspective. It's too late to ask her why she selected the passages; I can now only imagine why or how she chose each and every one.

On days like today when I wish I could curl back up into her lap like I did when I was young, I get instead to flip through the pages and remember her through her handwriting. I remember being young, sitting on her lap. I remember the way it felt when she ran her fingers through my hair as I leaned back into her. I remember her smell, her voice, her benevolence...the peace I felt curled there in her care.

The words of Taylor Caldwell, Piet Hein, Peter Marshall, Winston Churchill, Euripides and ...wait for it... Led Zeppelin...among others.

"Life itself can't give you joy unless you really will it. Life just gives you time and space. It's up to you to fill it." The Mountain Bar

"The first thing that popped into my head was the last thing I should've said." Unknown

"The reason that worry kills more people than work is that more people worry."

"Use the talents you possess for the woods would be very silent if no birds sang but the very best."

"Those who bring sunshine to the lives of others cannot keep it from themselves." Sir James Barrie

"A girl who thinks she is too good for any man may be right -- but she may be left."

A Clockwork Orange

It's been said that one man's trash is another man's treasure. Well, our dump has this incredibly popular re-use centre. Locals can donate unwanted items that haven't quite reached throw-away condition.

An entire section of the centre is devoted to books. Not surprising really. Have you ever seen anyone throw out a book. Even a poorly written one. People just don't finish a book, close it up and say..."Man, that sucked," and toss it in the trash. It just doesn't happen. And so I discovered A Clockwork Orange.

I was skimming through the titles trying to find a book that I thought I might like when I came across A Clockwork Orange. In high school, I wrote an essay on censorship and I remember the title from my assignment. In fact, when I come across a book that was (at least at one time) censored, I usually try and snap it up. Just in case. Besides, I L-O-V-E to read. Love, Love, Love.

Imagine my surprise then, when I opened the book to read the author's introduction titled, "A Clockwork Orange Resucked." The author basically dedicates 7 pages to denouncing the public for their fascination with the story when "other works of mine that I value more bite the dust." In the end, as with so many other literary works, the film version rocketed the story to the cult-following that it continues to enjoy. Thanks Stanley Kubrick.

Part one identifies the main character as the storyteller and then he says..."Our pockets were full of deng, so there was no real need from the point of view of crasting any more pretty polly to tolchock some old veck in an alley and viddy him swim in his blood while we counted the takings and divided by four, nor to do the ultra-violent on some shivering starry grey-haired ptitsa in a shop and go smecking off with the till's guts."

Huh?

I'm sorry. What did you say?

I made it a point to find out exactly what I was up against so I did a little homework and found out that the novel is set in 1962 England. To add a little atmosphere, the author created his own language called Nadsat which is a combination of Cockney, Polary and Russian slang.

Eeeeesh!

I trudged through it. I found the meaning behind the title and then suffered through the "rehabilitation" of the leading character. It was like taking medicine...you just do it because you absolutely have to. Unfortunately it became my literary equivalent to daily doses of Buckley's.

I cannot even fabricate a level of sophistication where I pretend to understand or appreciate the book. I am, in fact, so annoyed that I lost hours of precious time reading it, that I hope never to encounter a poor pretentious ass who takes it upon him/herself to exalt the groundbreaking qualities of this novel to me. Note to self: Common etiquette says not to talk about politics, sex, religion or money, or A Clockwork Orange.

So friends, this will serve as a warning to you to spare yourself the grief of labouring through this book. For those of you who want to decide for yourself whether or not it is worth the pain, I will be returning my copy to the reuse centre this weekend. Judge for yourself.