I am not going to talk about SouthLAnd today, as much fun as that would be. I will talk about it again soon. And when I do, I will speak of the wondrous Sammy Bryant. ;-)
Today, I am going to ponder "homeschooling". It seems like a good time for this, as it is Labor Day weekend, the traditional final weekend of summer vacation.
Some people believe I have been a bit hard on homeschoolers in my blog. Sorry if you feel that way. I think homeschooling can be a wonderful thing. I mean, I homeschooled my kids for a total of 13 years. So, logically, I must find it to be a reasonably acceptable educational alternative. The only other logical conclusion is that I am crazy. And maybe I am a little crazy.... But, as with any decision in life, I think it is important to look at both the pro's and the con's, without getting overly defensive about your own position. I believe this to be a healthy thing.
There are many positive aspects to homeschooling. Firstly, when all the other kids were heading back to their educational institutions in August, my kids never started their studies until after Labor Day. They also had two full weeks of Christmas vacation and their Easter break actually coincided with Easter. There were no teacher in-service days, and I could adjust the calendar so that we could accomplish everything by Memorial Day weekend. So, you can see my first priority as a homeschool mom -- lots of time off. (Tongue-in-cheek here. So, don't get your undies in a bunch people.)
Seriously, though, there are many true benefits to home education. I did teach in a public high school at one time, and I realized some things. Most of the kids who did not succeed had poor basic skills -- reading, writing, math. They were also disorganized and did not take personal responsibility for their work. Of course, if you cannot read, write, and do math at a grade-appropriate level, you will probably not have much motivation to be organized and responsible. I also came to the conclusion that if a person has strong basic skills, he or she will be able to tackle most of the other academic subjects with reasonable proficiency. So, as a home educator, I was able to concentrate on helping my kids achieve proficiency in these basic skills in grades K-8, so that they were then able to apply them to a more rigorous high school curriculum which would prepare them for college. Thus far, this approach has borne good fruit. My two oldest have successfully graduated from college. My youngest is a college sophomore, whose grades thus far have been very solid. I do not mean to brag here about the greatness of my own children. I believe this approach could work for many people's children, giving them opportunities for higher education that they might not otherwise have. I know this is a bold assertion, unsupported by any formal research. So, let me just call it an hypothesis.
Another wonderful aspect of home education is that the curriculum can be adjusted to reflect a child's interests. This is fun for both the student and the teacher, as the student will have much more enthusiasm about his or her studies. For example, my youngest son became a World War II buff at approximately age seven. Therefore, he was eager to read and write about this topic; and he also came to appreciate the importance of mathematics in the area of aviation. Fractions may be boring, in and of themselves, but he realized he would have to learn about them in order to be able to fly a plane like the aces of WWII.
On the other hand, though, there are negative aspects to homeschooling. And these must be squarely faced, in my opinion. If you are a home educator, and someone questions or criticizes your choice, you should not be defensive and accuse that person of persecuting you. You should thoughtfully consider these questions and criticisms. They might help you to be a better teacher to your children. They might help you to strengthen your program. Many people, for instance, wonder whether or not homeschooled kids have adequate extracurricular and social activities. Most of these kids do have opportunities in these areas, but I have also seen some problems. Socially, homeschoolers do tend to hang with other homeschoolers, who are of similar backgrounds and points-of-view. This can be a wonderful thing for forging the bonds of friendship. We all enjoy being with like-minded people. But, on the other hand, children and teens who attend public (and private) schools do tend to be regularly exposed to those of differing viewpoints, and there are benefits that come with this. One of these benefits, which I think is very important, is that the kids can come to view those with different opinions as actual human beings who can be VERY GOOD FRIENDS, friends who will truly stand by them in a time of need. It is important for kids to learn that they can actually enjoy the company and wonderful qualities of those who are different from themselves. And it has been my personal experience that many homeschoolers have difficulties when entering the "real" world, as they can be highly suspicious of those with the "wrong" viewpoints.
Because homeschooling is often undertaken without any connections with authorities in private or public educational institutions, there are those who will prey on homeschoolers and take unfair advantage of them. There are people who privately provide extracurricular activities for home educated students. Most of these people are wonderful, don't get me wrong. But, I have also seen some of these providers make almost fraudulent claims about themselves. These providers are also usually not subject to the background checks that are required of those who work in accredited private and public schools. So, a warning to homeschool families: Just because a person says he or she is a Christian, or supports Christian beliefs, or is going to vote for the pro-life candidate, doesn't mean you should trust that person. There are people who will say these things in order to take advantage of you. Be aware and beware.
Homeschoolers tend to be very bright and independent people, who firmly believe that it is the parents' right and duty to choose and provide for their children's educations. I believe this, also. And, it is not that I am a total "It Takes A Village" kind of person, but I think we need to remember that there are some advantages to what I think of as the educational "safety net". If a child is in school, there are multiple people there to support the parents and the family. And most educators truly do want to support the parents and the family, in spite of what some may believe. So, as a parent, if you choose to remove yourself from the educational establishment, it is important to remember that sometimes you can misjudge a situation or make a mistake in a decision. Humility is required. If you have a friend or friends who care for you and are expressing concern about your educational decisions, at least listen and consider respectfully what they have to say. In the end, your decisions are your own, but try not to be dismissive of the concerns of others.
I hope I have clarified my views on homeschooling. I do not regret my decision to educate my children at home, but after many years of doing this "thing", these are the conclusions I have come to about this choice. May all parents be granted wisdom as they make decisions for (and with) their children about what type of education is best for them. And may we realize that people do not all fit into the same mold, and that variety is the spice of life.
Friday, August 31, 2012
Wednesday, August 29, 2012
How I Came To Watch "SouthLAnd"
Since I often refer to the TV show SouthLAnd in this blog, I figured I would explain how I came to watch it. I don't know if this is interesting to you, but it is fun for me to talk about.
There is this very kind actor I follow on Twitter. His name is Chris Bruno. Back in January, I think it was, he was a guest star on SouthLAnd, so he tweeted something like, "I will be appearing on SouthLAnd tonight. If you have time, you can watch it. But, don't blink." I thought his request was just so humble and self-effacing that I decided to watch the show. I thought it was going to be about The South. You know, like Tennessee or Mississippi or Alabama. Imagine my surprise when it was a show about the LAPD. I guess that explains the "LA" in "SouthLAnd". Yeah. I can be pretty dense sometimes.
I have now watched all the episodes of SouthLAnd, but this particular episode came in the middle of Season 4. My children, after watching the series with me, have come to the conclusion that this was the most violent episode of them all. I cannot disagree.
So, anyway, I turn on the show and I see the following things: First. A crazed woman in an old nightgown and bathrobe waving a knife. A lady cop goes to tackle her. Freeze frame. But, you know nothing good is going to result. Second. Cute blond dude in bed with two ladies, who has to leap out of a second floor window when the husband of one of the ladies arrives home unexpectedly. To his credit, this dude apparently did not know the lady was married. At first, I do not know this young man is a cop, but later in the show, I learn that he is one of the main cop characters. He then has to work hard to win me over, as I am not immediately impressed. (Also, I do not personally understand why two women would want to share one guy. I guess it's because I am Italian. We do not share our guys.) At this point I am thinking, "Chris, you are apparently a wonderful person. But, WHAT IN THE HELL KIND OF SHOW IS THIS???" And the grand finale of the episode? A very large tattooed man viciously attacking one of the heroic police officers by knocking him over and latching his teeth onto said officer's neck. They struggle for what seems like an eternity. We are left not knowing what will be the fate of this obviously epic law enforcement official. In the midst of all this action is Chris Bruno's scene, which is a lot of fun. He plays a cop who has just put several bad guys out of commission, all by himself, using kick-ass martial arts skills. Yes, perhaps he broke a few cop rules. But, all's fair in love and war. Right?
The episode ended. I thought, "Well. It was fun to see Chris Bruno. But, I am DONE with watching SouthLAnd." The following week came around, though, and SouthLAnd was going to be on that night. I couldn't help but wonder what was going to be the fate of the neck-bite victim. Evening came. I turned on the set. And, so, there you have it. Each week, I told myself that I was finished with this "dark and gritty" show. Then, the next week would roll around, and I couldn't help but wonder what was going to happen next. And, to be fair, I stopped seeing the show as being "dark and gritty." The characters gained my sympathy and the writing is extremely compelling, providing a lot of food for thought. The production value is also top-notch. I finished watching Season 4 of SouthLAnd, and then proceeded to watch all the other episodes of all the other seasons. Can't wait for Season 5. Coming in 2013.
There is this very kind actor I follow on Twitter. His name is Chris Bruno. Back in January, I think it was, he was a guest star on SouthLAnd, so he tweeted something like, "I will be appearing on SouthLAnd tonight. If you have time, you can watch it. But, don't blink." I thought his request was just so humble and self-effacing that I decided to watch the show. I thought it was going to be about The South. You know, like Tennessee or Mississippi or Alabama. Imagine my surprise when it was a show about the LAPD. I guess that explains the "LA" in "SouthLAnd". Yeah. I can be pretty dense sometimes.
I have now watched all the episodes of SouthLAnd, but this particular episode came in the middle of Season 4. My children, after watching the series with me, have come to the conclusion that this was the most violent episode of them all. I cannot disagree.
So, anyway, I turn on the show and I see the following things: First. A crazed woman in an old nightgown and bathrobe waving a knife. A lady cop goes to tackle her. Freeze frame. But, you know nothing good is going to result. Second. Cute blond dude in bed with two ladies, who has to leap out of a second floor window when the husband of one of the ladies arrives home unexpectedly. To his credit, this dude apparently did not know the lady was married. At first, I do not know this young man is a cop, but later in the show, I learn that he is one of the main cop characters. He then has to work hard to win me over, as I am not immediately impressed. (Also, I do not personally understand why two women would want to share one guy. I guess it's because I am Italian. We do not share our guys.) At this point I am thinking, "Chris, you are apparently a wonderful person. But, WHAT IN THE HELL KIND OF SHOW IS THIS???" And the grand finale of the episode? A very large tattooed man viciously attacking one of the heroic police officers by knocking him over and latching his teeth onto said officer's neck. They struggle for what seems like an eternity. We are left not knowing what will be the fate of this obviously epic law enforcement official. In the midst of all this action is Chris Bruno's scene, which is a lot of fun. He plays a cop who has just put several bad guys out of commission, all by himself, using kick-ass martial arts skills. Yes, perhaps he broke a few cop rules. But, all's fair in love and war. Right?
The episode ended. I thought, "Well. It was fun to see Chris Bruno. But, I am DONE with watching SouthLAnd." The following week came around, though, and SouthLAnd was going to be on that night. I couldn't help but wonder what was going to be the fate of the neck-bite victim. Evening came. I turned on the set. And, so, there you have it. Each week, I told myself that I was finished with this "dark and gritty" show. Then, the next week would roll around, and I couldn't help but wonder what was going to happen next. And, to be fair, I stopped seeing the show as being "dark and gritty." The characters gained my sympathy and the writing is extremely compelling, providing a lot of food for thought. The production value is also top-notch. I finished watching Season 4 of SouthLAnd, and then proceeded to watch all the other episodes of all the other seasons. Can't wait for Season 5. Coming in 2013.
Tuesday, August 28, 2012
My Hollywood Miracle
"Where shall we go on vacation?" I asked myself as the summer of 1994 approached. My husband and I had an almost 2-year-old boy, a 4-year-old girl, and an almost 6-year-old girl at the time. But, my adventurous spirit was undeterred, and I hatched a plan for the family to vacation in Santa Monica for a week. A full seven days in one hotel room. You would have grounds to question my sanity.
We traveled separately. My husband drove from the San Francisco Bay Area in our 1984 VW Jetta, with all the necessary equipment for life with small children, including a stroller and a porta-crib. I flew down with the three kids. I hate long drives, as does my middle child. So, an airplane ride seemed as though it would be easier. Ha-Ha. Actually, the flight was uneventful, except for the part when daughter #2 announced, very loudly, to a very packed aircraft, "I AM GOING TO THROW UP." I have never seen a flight attendant move so fast. Thankfully, said daughter did not throw up. A few sips of water were all that was necessary to quiet her upset tummy. The really exciting part was the cab ride from LAX to the hotel on Santa Monica Blvd. I had absolutely no idea how to get around LA, so I put my life and the lives of my children into the hands of a cab driver who barely spoke English. He literally slammed on the brakes on the freeway when, again, my second child loudly announced her feelings of queasiness. But, again, we were spared any tragic events and eventually arrived at our destination. Hubby arrived a couple of hours later with the car and all our stuff. So, I told myself, we are in for a fun-filled, rejuvenating week in LA. So exciting! Ha-Ha.
We did see many sights in the LA area and ate wonderful food. LA may have crappy air and traffic galore, but it has the BEST food. Healthy, fresh, flavorful -- even when you're at a place that serves quick informal meals, pizza, or take-out. After all, there has to be some motivation for all those talented people to consent to live there.
The bottom line, though? This turned into the vacation from hell. One toilet in the hotel room that clogged at least once a day. A 4-year-old girl who refused to eat ANYTHING except small packages of cheese and crackers or peanut butter and crackers, until I fortuitously located an IHOP, where she proceeded to make up for lost time. This 4-year-old girl also got really sick, which necessitated me spending at least an hour on the phone getting an o.k. from the Northern CA Kaiser beauracracy for my little girl to see a doctor in the Southern CA Kaiser beauracracy. The journey to this approved doctor was at least a 2-hour round trip, in all the traffic. It turned out that she had Fifth's Disease, which I came down with the following day. My poor hubby, with all this stress, developed a very painful cold sore. And, needless to say, with the one toilet constantly clogging up, everyone's pipes became a tad bit unhealthy. TMI, I know. There were also all the "normal" stresses of having two adults and three little people in one hotel room for a full seven days -- lack of space, lack of toys (which inspired the kiddos to turn the two double beds into trampolines), and lack of any privacy for the two adults. And this plot had all been cooked up by me. My Bad.
But, in the midst of it all came a little miracle. My Hollywood Miracle. As I have mentioned before in this blog, I went through a pretty painful faith crisis when my kids were small. And I was in the middle of this difficult time when we were on vacation in Santa Monica. I was hanging on by a very thin thread to my Catholicism. When Sunday rolled around, though, I took a deep breath, and the five of us headed off to Mass -- at Saint Monca's Catholic Community in, of course, Santa Monica. The Mass that day was held in the gym or parish hall (I can't quite remember which), because a recent earthquake had damaged the beautiful older church. And I had an experience in which God touched my heart and reminded me that I didn't have to be perfect to be loved by Him. There were many people there and, for the most part, they were very enthusiastic and welcoming. And there was the most wonderful choir and band. It was composed mostly of young adults, who actually sang on key (after all, this was the Land of Talented People). The selections were primarily modern praise and worship music, which I have always found to be uplifting, comforting, and conducive to prayer. Many people object to the use of this type of music at Mass. I will not argue with their reasoning, but these songs were a balm to my weary soul. And the instrumentalists were amazing. I will never forget the drummer (I LOVE drums at church) and the bass player who looked like Encino Man. So cool! And the priest who said Mass. Wow! He said just what I needed to hear that day. His sermon concerned the twelve apostles -- and he had twelve puppets, one for each of these men. How I love this Land of Talented People! And he spoke about each apostle, one by one. He described each of their individual struggles and faults; his point being that Jesus chose them in spite of these struggles and faults. And he pointed out that God loves and chooses each of us, too, in spite of our own shortcomings. On that day, the Lord held onto my hand, even though I was tempted to let go of His. I have never forgotten this Mass and how it was instrumental in saving my faith.
Saint Monica's still has this amazing musical group. They play each week at the 5:30 Sunday evening Mass. I think the same priest might still be there, as well. I found a sermon online that was recently given at St. Monica's, and it sure sounded like this wonderful person. His is a voice that I will never forget. Someday, maybe I'll make my way back there and give a little thanks in front of the altar.
We traveled separately. My husband drove from the San Francisco Bay Area in our 1984 VW Jetta, with all the necessary equipment for life with small children, including a stroller and a porta-crib. I flew down with the three kids. I hate long drives, as does my middle child. So, an airplane ride seemed as though it would be easier. Ha-Ha. Actually, the flight was uneventful, except for the part when daughter #2 announced, very loudly, to a very packed aircraft, "I AM GOING TO THROW UP." I have never seen a flight attendant move so fast. Thankfully, said daughter did not throw up. A few sips of water were all that was necessary to quiet her upset tummy. The really exciting part was the cab ride from LAX to the hotel on Santa Monica Blvd. I had absolutely no idea how to get around LA, so I put my life and the lives of my children into the hands of a cab driver who barely spoke English. He literally slammed on the brakes on the freeway when, again, my second child loudly announced her feelings of queasiness. But, again, we were spared any tragic events and eventually arrived at our destination. Hubby arrived a couple of hours later with the car and all our stuff. So, I told myself, we are in for a fun-filled, rejuvenating week in LA. So exciting! Ha-Ha.
We did see many sights in the LA area and ate wonderful food. LA may have crappy air and traffic galore, but it has the BEST food. Healthy, fresh, flavorful -- even when you're at a place that serves quick informal meals, pizza, or take-out. After all, there has to be some motivation for all those talented people to consent to live there.
The bottom line, though? This turned into the vacation from hell. One toilet in the hotel room that clogged at least once a day. A 4-year-old girl who refused to eat ANYTHING except small packages of cheese and crackers or peanut butter and crackers, until I fortuitously located an IHOP, where she proceeded to make up for lost time. This 4-year-old girl also got really sick, which necessitated me spending at least an hour on the phone getting an o.k. from the Northern CA Kaiser beauracracy for my little girl to see a doctor in the Southern CA Kaiser beauracracy. The journey to this approved doctor was at least a 2-hour round trip, in all the traffic. It turned out that she had Fifth's Disease, which I came down with the following day. My poor hubby, with all this stress, developed a very painful cold sore. And, needless to say, with the one toilet constantly clogging up, everyone's pipes became a tad bit unhealthy. TMI, I know. There were also all the "normal" stresses of having two adults and three little people in one hotel room for a full seven days -- lack of space, lack of toys (which inspired the kiddos to turn the two double beds into trampolines), and lack of any privacy for the two adults. And this plot had all been cooked up by me. My Bad.
But, in the midst of it all came a little miracle. My Hollywood Miracle. As I have mentioned before in this blog, I went through a pretty painful faith crisis when my kids were small. And I was in the middle of this difficult time when we were on vacation in Santa Monica. I was hanging on by a very thin thread to my Catholicism. When Sunday rolled around, though, I took a deep breath, and the five of us headed off to Mass -- at Saint Monca's Catholic Community in, of course, Santa Monica. The Mass that day was held in the gym or parish hall (I can't quite remember which), because a recent earthquake had damaged the beautiful older church. And I had an experience in which God touched my heart and reminded me that I didn't have to be perfect to be loved by Him. There were many people there and, for the most part, they were very enthusiastic and welcoming. And there was the most wonderful choir and band. It was composed mostly of young adults, who actually sang on key (after all, this was the Land of Talented People). The selections were primarily modern praise and worship music, which I have always found to be uplifting, comforting, and conducive to prayer. Many people object to the use of this type of music at Mass. I will not argue with their reasoning, but these songs were a balm to my weary soul. And the instrumentalists were amazing. I will never forget the drummer (I LOVE drums at church) and the bass player who looked like Encino Man. So cool! And the priest who said Mass. Wow! He said just what I needed to hear that day. His sermon concerned the twelve apostles -- and he had twelve puppets, one for each of these men. How I love this Land of Talented People! And he spoke about each apostle, one by one. He described each of their individual struggles and faults; his point being that Jesus chose them in spite of these struggles and faults. And he pointed out that God loves and chooses each of us, too, in spite of our own shortcomings. On that day, the Lord held onto my hand, even though I was tempted to let go of His. I have never forgotten this Mass and how it was instrumental in saving my faith.
Saint Monica's still has this amazing musical group. They play each week at the 5:30 Sunday evening Mass. I think the same priest might still be there, as well. I found a sermon online that was recently given at St. Monica's, and it sure sounded like this wonderful person. His is a voice that I will never forget. Someday, maybe I'll make my way back there and give a little thanks in front of the altar.
Monday, August 27, 2012
Appreciating Gifts Received -- Or, Kudos To The Dems
I am a registered Republican, though a somewhat reluctant one. Because, more importantly, I am a Catholic; and if you study Catholic social teaching, you will realize that it contains ideas of both the Republican and Democratic parties. And some of the ideas embraced by the Democratic Party are very important in Catholic thought. For a while, I was registered as a non-partisan. But, for various reasons, I decided it would be a good idea to choose a party, so I chose the GOP. I tend to be a limited government sort of person. I also believe in the idea of subsidiarity, which is important in both Catholic thought and conservative politics. In this post, though, I am going to speak of the ways in which the Democrats have enriched my life all through the years. And these are things for which I am truly grateful. And when I ponder these things, it keeps me from being too partisan.
Long before I was born, my Italian great-grandfather lived in the United States. While here, I am told that he helped form the Furriers Union. So, as you can see, I have connections to the Democratic Party that go way back. After a while, this great-grandfather returned to Italy. But, when his children were grown, he sent them to America, to have better lives than they could make for themselves as peasant farmers in the "Old Country." One of these children was my grandmother, Adele Caffoni. She was followed to New York by her "boyfriend" -- Aldo Argenti. Who, by the way, was almost immediately sent back to the land of his birth for fibbing to the immigration authorities about something or other. He was in a holding cell on Ellis Island when a kind relative of my grandmother's showed up to bail him out, thus saving my future existence. As a married couple, both of my grandparents worked blue-collar jobs -- factory work, construction, janitorial services. And, as they explained it to me, they would never have had the pay, benefits, and security in retirement that they had without the efforts of the Democratic Party. The Party of the Working Man. And they did not squander the efforts of their party, either. They were frugal and saved their money, and thus they were able to help their own children get a "leg up" in life. My grandparents gave their children good educations and some financial assistance starting out in life, because of the benefits the Democrats helped them secure. Their own children took this help from their parents with grateful hearts, worked hard, and achieved a good standard of living for themselves. Thus, I get a little annoyed when certain conservatives accuse the Democrats of wanting to give "hand-outs" to undeserving people. I have seen that, with proper stewardship, less fortunate people can use these "hand-outs" to help themselves and their progeny achieve better lives. Lives during which, by the way, they will pay their fair share of taxes to help other less fortunate people.
I am also very grateful to the Democratic Party for my high school and college educations. I attended a private elementary school (grades 1-8), where books, supplies, and heat during the winter always seemed to be in short supply. I remember doing assignments on paper that resembled recycled paper towels and shivering in the classroom during the winter. And sharing a textbook with another child, when one of you is on page 20 and the other is on page 30, can be a bit stressful when you are 9 years old. So, when I went to a public high school, I was basically in educational heaven. It was calm, orderly, clean, and well-stocked. The teachers were well-trained, and most knew how to inspire a kid with positive words of encouragement. I attended a publicly-funded college, as well -- San Francisco State University. There I was given the opportunity to get a very good education alongside people of diverse opinions and walks-of-life. This was invaluable to me, as it helped me learn how to enjoy and appreciate all kinds of people. I also found, at these public institutions, that my rather conservative religious and political views were treated with respect by my teachers and classmates. We were able to talk with each other about our differing ideas in a way that was positive for all. I never felt like I was treated badly by anyone -- instructor or student -- because of my more traditional opinions. To me, it was the best of what you might call a truly liberal education. An education where all points of view are considered in the discussion, in a fair and respectful manner, with everyone still calling each other "friend" at the end of the day.
Because of programs championed by the Democrats, I had many enriching experiences as I grew up. There was that wonderful summer school program where I got to play Dorothy in The Wizard Of Oz. There were swimming lessons, which provided me with a healthy, life-long activity that I love. There were also dance lessons, driving lessons, library books, opportunities to attend plays -- I could go on and on... Without the Democrats, I would probably not have been able to partake in any of these activities. My father did have a good job and we had a wonderful home-life, but his income would not have supported these things, even if he was in a lower tax bracket.
And I have to say this about publicly-funded programs, also -- especially those of an educational type. They do provide the opportunity for people of diverse backgrounds to interact. And this is something that I believe to be of great value -- at least it was for me and for others I have known.
So, this Republican tips her hat to the Democrats. I recognize the value in much that you have done. And I hope we can all work together for the common good.
Long before I was born, my Italian great-grandfather lived in the United States. While here, I am told that he helped form the Furriers Union. So, as you can see, I have connections to the Democratic Party that go way back. After a while, this great-grandfather returned to Italy. But, when his children were grown, he sent them to America, to have better lives than they could make for themselves as peasant farmers in the "Old Country." One of these children was my grandmother, Adele Caffoni. She was followed to New York by her "boyfriend" -- Aldo Argenti. Who, by the way, was almost immediately sent back to the land of his birth for fibbing to the immigration authorities about something or other. He was in a holding cell on Ellis Island when a kind relative of my grandmother's showed up to bail him out, thus saving my future existence. As a married couple, both of my grandparents worked blue-collar jobs -- factory work, construction, janitorial services. And, as they explained it to me, they would never have had the pay, benefits, and security in retirement that they had without the efforts of the Democratic Party. The Party of the Working Man. And they did not squander the efforts of their party, either. They were frugal and saved their money, and thus they were able to help their own children get a "leg up" in life. My grandparents gave their children good educations and some financial assistance starting out in life, because of the benefits the Democrats helped them secure. Their own children took this help from their parents with grateful hearts, worked hard, and achieved a good standard of living for themselves. Thus, I get a little annoyed when certain conservatives accuse the Democrats of wanting to give "hand-outs" to undeserving people. I have seen that, with proper stewardship, less fortunate people can use these "hand-outs" to help themselves and their progeny achieve better lives. Lives during which, by the way, they will pay their fair share of taxes to help other less fortunate people.
I am also very grateful to the Democratic Party for my high school and college educations. I attended a private elementary school (grades 1-8), where books, supplies, and heat during the winter always seemed to be in short supply. I remember doing assignments on paper that resembled recycled paper towels and shivering in the classroom during the winter. And sharing a textbook with another child, when one of you is on page 20 and the other is on page 30, can be a bit stressful when you are 9 years old. So, when I went to a public high school, I was basically in educational heaven. It was calm, orderly, clean, and well-stocked. The teachers were well-trained, and most knew how to inspire a kid with positive words of encouragement. I attended a publicly-funded college, as well -- San Francisco State University. There I was given the opportunity to get a very good education alongside people of diverse opinions and walks-of-life. This was invaluable to me, as it helped me learn how to enjoy and appreciate all kinds of people. I also found, at these public institutions, that my rather conservative religious and political views were treated with respect by my teachers and classmates. We were able to talk with each other about our differing ideas in a way that was positive for all. I never felt like I was treated badly by anyone -- instructor or student -- because of my more traditional opinions. To me, it was the best of what you might call a truly liberal education. An education where all points of view are considered in the discussion, in a fair and respectful manner, with everyone still calling each other "friend" at the end of the day.
Because of programs championed by the Democrats, I had many enriching experiences as I grew up. There was that wonderful summer school program where I got to play Dorothy in The Wizard Of Oz. There were swimming lessons, which provided me with a healthy, life-long activity that I love. There were also dance lessons, driving lessons, library books, opportunities to attend plays -- I could go on and on... Without the Democrats, I would probably not have been able to partake in any of these activities. My father did have a good job and we had a wonderful home-life, but his income would not have supported these things, even if he was in a lower tax bracket.
And I have to say this about publicly-funded programs, also -- especially those of an educational type. They do provide the opportunity for people of diverse backgrounds to interact. And this is something that I believe to be of great value -- at least it was for me and for others I have known.
So, this Republican tips her hat to the Democrats. I recognize the value in much that you have done. And I hope we can all work together for the common good.
Sunday, August 26, 2012
The PDA -- Or, Sweet Memories Of Youth
The Public Display of Affection, or PDA. What is a young person to think or do? This is my view on the whole thing, which may be entirely wrong. Please do not be offended or feel that I expect you to agree with me.
My two daughters went to institutions of higher education where there were fairly strict rules about the PDA. Although, at one of the colleges, there was some latitude. PDA's were discouraged in the main campus area, but in the "lower campus" and off-campus, as I understand it, your business was your own. The other institution, as it seemed to me, was a bit stricter. A couple could be fined or at least "talked to" for PDA-ing pretty much anywhere they might be spotted by an authority figure from the school, including off-campus. My understanding is that those in charge of running the school were concerned for the reputation of the school. And, I do believe, they had the best interests of the young people at heart. I do have a bit of an issue, though, with the policy of this latter college.
I appreciate the idea of encouraging in young people the development of a proper social decorum. In a professional situation, and attending classes at a college could be viewed as such, the idea of treating others in a more formal way is a very positive one. On the other hand, school is not the workplace, so a little hand-holding and a kiss for your special someone as you see him or her off to class is really not that big of a deal, and is even rather sweet, at least in my book.
When it comes to locations that are outside the area of the school itself, though, it is my personal opinion that these young people should basically be left alone, with perhaps some gentle guidance from their elders. It can be a bit uncomfortable to see a couple making out in a hallway or common area, appearing as though they are unaware of the presence of anyone else, but it can be handled with a GENTLE word or good-natured ribbing by a friend or authority figure. I see absolutely no need to humiliate the young people. And fining them monetarily seems completely ridiculous to me. After all, these people are young, but they are also adults.
Personally, I remember my own days of young adulthood, when I so much enjoyed lavishing affection on my beloved. (I would like to apologize to my own kids, if this is TMI.) I would have been getting fined ALL THE TIME, and it most likely wouldn't have stopped me. I would have just set apart a budget for PDA fines. Rebel yell. ;-)
Yes, we need to help young people develop common sense about romantic behaviors. But, we also need to have some heart for these lovely individuals. PDA's can often be some of the sweetest memories of youth and of our early times with our spouses. My dad, who I spoke of in another post, was very smart about this and the following anecdote still makes me laugh. There was an old sofa in the living room of the home where I lived until I married. The old sofa was eventually replaced by a new sofa, and the day it arrived, my dad solemnly announced, with a twinkle in his eye, "Here is the new couch. For you and Chris to make out on."
And this leads me to my own PDA advice. Making out is fun, but carries with it less danger when undertaken in a place where you can easily be caught. Enough said.
This post is written from my own perspective on things. I am not The Pope, or any definitive Authority. If I have made any mistakes or you feel I am being unfair, please forgive me. If you disagree with my views, I understand.
My two daughters went to institutions of higher education where there were fairly strict rules about the PDA. Although, at one of the colleges, there was some latitude. PDA's were discouraged in the main campus area, but in the "lower campus" and off-campus, as I understand it, your business was your own. The other institution, as it seemed to me, was a bit stricter. A couple could be fined or at least "talked to" for PDA-ing pretty much anywhere they might be spotted by an authority figure from the school, including off-campus. My understanding is that those in charge of running the school were concerned for the reputation of the school. And, I do believe, they had the best interests of the young people at heart. I do have a bit of an issue, though, with the policy of this latter college.
I appreciate the idea of encouraging in young people the development of a proper social decorum. In a professional situation, and attending classes at a college could be viewed as such, the idea of treating others in a more formal way is a very positive one. On the other hand, school is not the workplace, so a little hand-holding and a kiss for your special someone as you see him or her off to class is really not that big of a deal, and is even rather sweet, at least in my book.
When it comes to locations that are outside the area of the school itself, though, it is my personal opinion that these young people should basically be left alone, with perhaps some gentle guidance from their elders. It can be a bit uncomfortable to see a couple making out in a hallway or common area, appearing as though they are unaware of the presence of anyone else, but it can be handled with a GENTLE word or good-natured ribbing by a friend or authority figure. I see absolutely no need to humiliate the young people. And fining them monetarily seems completely ridiculous to me. After all, these people are young, but they are also adults.
Personally, I remember my own days of young adulthood, when I so much enjoyed lavishing affection on my beloved. (I would like to apologize to my own kids, if this is TMI.) I would have been getting fined ALL THE TIME, and it most likely wouldn't have stopped me. I would have just set apart a budget for PDA fines. Rebel yell. ;-)
Yes, we need to help young people develop common sense about romantic behaviors. But, we also need to have some heart for these lovely individuals. PDA's can often be some of the sweetest memories of youth and of our early times with our spouses. My dad, who I spoke of in another post, was very smart about this and the following anecdote still makes me laugh. There was an old sofa in the living room of the home where I lived until I married. The old sofa was eventually replaced by a new sofa, and the day it arrived, my dad solemnly announced, with a twinkle in his eye, "Here is the new couch. For you and Chris to make out on."
And this leads me to my own PDA advice. Making out is fun, but carries with it less danger when undertaken in a place where you can easily be caught. Enough said.
This post is written from my own perspective on things. I am not The Pope, or any definitive Authority. If I have made any mistakes or you feel I am being unfair, please forgive me. If you disagree with my views, I understand.
Friday, August 24, 2012
King David, The Pool House, And The Big, Comfy Bed
It is Friday. I am in a celebratory mood. And I am just going to have fun writing this crazy-ass post. ;-)
As I have said before, my daughters and I are engaged in the endeavor of watching The O.C. This is a TV show which ran for four seasons starting in 2003. And, yes, I am quite behind in my television watching. The main character is a young man of 17 named Ryan Atwood (played by a 20-something Ben McKenzie). Ryan is truly a King David-type character (but, that is another post), though possessing a rather troubled past. He is taken in by the family of his public defender after a scrape with the law. The public defender makes no money, of course, but is married to a fabulously wealthy woman, with whom he has one son who is the same age as Ryan. Thus, they all come live together in the very upscale community of Newport Beach in Orange County.
When Ryan arrives at his new home, the mother of the family decides that he will take up residence in the pool house. When the doors to the pool house are opened, we see, in the middle of the room, a giant comfy bed -- made up with masculine linens and all sorts of fluffy pillows. Uh-huh. If I was the mother in this household, there is no possible way I would put my new, handsome, 17-year-old, King David-like, worldly-wise stepson all by himself in a pool house with this big, wondrous bed right smack dab in the center of it. ARE YOU KIDDING ME??? Perhaps I am just narrow-minded, but anyway....
As the story of Ryan and his new family and friends unfolds, I have come to see this bed being used to indicate the status of this boy's relationships with all the different characters, and also his own moods. Fascinating. Everything revolves around the bed. If Ryan is feeling lonely, he reclines by himself in a mopey mood on the bed. If he has decided that life must take a more serious turn and he is thinking about his future, he is seen studying on the bed. If he is not feeling so close with his girlfriend, they sit on the edge of the bed; and if he is feeling closer to her, of course they make out on the bed atop all the fluffy pillows. With a platonic friend, a closer relationship is indicated if they talk on the bed together; more distance is reflected if Ryan is sitting on the bed and his friend on the floor or a nearby chair. A tentative new relationship with a girl might be illustrated by both of them sitting on the floor at the foot of the bed, perhaps playing a video game. When the girl that Ryan gets pregnant comes to reside with this family for a while, she is given the pool house to stay in and the big, comfy bed to sleep in, with Ryan being moved into the main house (where I personally would have put him in the first place; but, then nobody would have watched the show). You see her -- a very beautiful young woman -- through the windows of this lovely structure, making the bed. Meanwhile, Ryan and his current girlfriend sit together outside, with Ryan looking, understandably, concerned (drastic understatement here). The visual effect of this scene shows us and causes us to feel the pain of Ryan's situation in a way that 1000 words never could. And when Ryan leaves his happy new community to go back to his hometown with the pregnant girl, because he feels it is his duty to do so, the image of the mother of the family stripping this bed while crying many tears is stunning -- leaving the audience to grasp fully the impact Ryan has had among the people who have come to love him. He eventually does return, but during his absence, there are shots of the bed with the blankets and sheets carefully folded at the foot of it. A stark illustration of a heartbreaking situation.
Maybe I am imagining this whole thing, through the oft-strange workings of my mind, but I don't think so. I believe what I am seeing is some delightful creativity and compelling story-telling. And I tip my hat to the creators, producers, writers, and actors of The O.C. Kudos!!!
As I have said before, my daughters and I are engaged in the endeavor of watching The O.C. This is a TV show which ran for four seasons starting in 2003. And, yes, I am quite behind in my television watching. The main character is a young man of 17 named Ryan Atwood (played by a 20-something Ben McKenzie). Ryan is truly a King David-type character (but, that is another post), though possessing a rather troubled past. He is taken in by the family of his public defender after a scrape with the law. The public defender makes no money, of course, but is married to a fabulously wealthy woman, with whom he has one son who is the same age as Ryan. Thus, they all come live together in the very upscale community of Newport Beach in Orange County.
When Ryan arrives at his new home, the mother of the family decides that he will take up residence in the pool house. When the doors to the pool house are opened, we see, in the middle of the room, a giant comfy bed -- made up with masculine linens and all sorts of fluffy pillows. Uh-huh. If I was the mother in this household, there is no possible way I would put my new, handsome, 17-year-old, King David-like, worldly-wise stepson all by himself in a pool house with this big, wondrous bed right smack dab in the center of it. ARE YOU KIDDING ME??? Perhaps I am just narrow-minded, but anyway....
As the story of Ryan and his new family and friends unfolds, I have come to see this bed being used to indicate the status of this boy's relationships with all the different characters, and also his own moods. Fascinating. Everything revolves around the bed. If Ryan is feeling lonely, he reclines by himself in a mopey mood on the bed. If he has decided that life must take a more serious turn and he is thinking about his future, he is seen studying on the bed. If he is not feeling so close with his girlfriend, they sit on the edge of the bed; and if he is feeling closer to her, of course they make out on the bed atop all the fluffy pillows. With a platonic friend, a closer relationship is indicated if they talk on the bed together; more distance is reflected if Ryan is sitting on the bed and his friend on the floor or a nearby chair. A tentative new relationship with a girl might be illustrated by both of them sitting on the floor at the foot of the bed, perhaps playing a video game. When the girl that Ryan gets pregnant comes to reside with this family for a while, she is given the pool house to stay in and the big, comfy bed to sleep in, with Ryan being moved into the main house (where I personally would have put him in the first place; but, then nobody would have watched the show). You see her -- a very beautiful young woman -- through the windows of this lovely structure, making the bed. Meanwhile, Ryan and his current girlfriend sit together outside, with Ryan looking, understandably, concerned (drastic understatement here). The visual effect of this scene shows us and causes us to feel the pain of Ryan's situation in a way that 1000 words never could. And when Ryan leaves his happy new community to go back to his hometown with the pregnant girl, because he feels it is his duty to do so, the image of the mother of the family stripping this bed while crying many tears is stunning -- leaving the audience to grasp fully the impact Ryan has had among the people who have come to love him. He eventually does return, but during his absence, there are shots of the bed with the blankets and sheets carefully folded at the foot of it. A stark illustration of a heartbreaking situation.
Maybe I am imagining this whole thing, through the oft-strange workings of my mind, but I don't think so. I believe what I am seeing is some delightful creativity and compelling story-telling. And I tip my hat to the creators, producers, writers, and actors of The O.C. Kudos!!!
Thursday, August 23, 2012
My Father's Wisdom
I was very fortunate in having the father I had. He passed away about two and a half years ago, but he left a lot of good sense in his wake.
My father was the son of Italian immigrants. His first language was Italian, and he didn't learn English until going to school. He actually skipped kindergarten, because he ran away the first three days. So, his teacher told his mom to keep him home until first grade. After that, he did very well in school, although he never enjoyed it. And that was one of his lessons to us -- sometimes, you just do what you are supposed to do, because you are supposed to do it. And you do your best, whether or not you are having a good time. More people could use that lesson, methinks.
After high school, my dad was drafted into the U.S. Army during the time of the Korean War. Being in the army was something he didn't much care for, either. But, he was of good character and had some excellent leadership skills, so he was made a squad leader. During his time in this position, my dad got so angry with a fellow soldier -- who was unwilling to take part in the weekly cleaning of the barracks -- that he broke a broom over his back. Yeah, my dad was kind of fiery sometimes. You know how Italians can be. As he said, though, he did not want to have his weekend liberty revoked because of this lazy dude. Understandable.
After his hitch in the army, my dad tried college, but he only lasted a semester. As I understand it, he was unwilling to spend his time listening to philosophy teachers wonder about whether or not we actually exist. So, he took a job as a teller at Bank of America, and was quickly promoted up through the ranks. During the 1970's, though, BofA began hiring a lot of MBA's fresh out of places like Stanford University. My father announced to our family that these guys were going to ruin the bank -- but, not out of any fault of their own. He explained that the Powers That Be at BofA hired these people fresh out of school, with no experience, and had them follow him around with clip boards for a couple of weeks, after which they were expected to do the same kind of job he was doing after working there for 16 years. When the big financial crisis hit a few years back, and we all found out the shenanigans that had been going on at BofA, I called my dad and said, "Well, you were right. The MBA's did end up ruining the bank." He did not disagree.
Upon seeing the writing on the wall at Bank of America, my dad fell back on the trade he learned from his own father. He renewed his general contractor's license and went into business for himself. He built new homes and remodeled older ones, always doing gorgeous work. People would often wait a year for him to do a job, rather than try to find anyone else. He built his own custom cabinets out of maple in the workshop he had in our garage; and he always, always cleaned up each job site immaculately at the end of each and every work day -- something that was greatly appreciated by his customers.
My dad had a reputation, among many people, of pretty much always being right. One of the reasons for this, I believe, is that he had an excellent intuitive grasp of human nature, of what makes people tick. Everyone loved my dad, no matter their religion, politics, sexual ethics, whatever -- because he was cool with all of them. He did dispense his advice, but usually gently, with an understanding that if you push people too hard, it will inevitably backfire. Here are a few of examples of what I mean.
My father interacted with a lot of young people -- family, children of his friends, subcontractors -- during the era of the "sexual revolution". Now, my father was a very good Catholic and very old-fashioned in his values. But, he also made people feel comfortable around him. So, often these young people -- well, the guys, anyway -- would tell him of their sexual adventures. Instead of acting shocked and lecturing them, my dad would listening patiently and with good humor. And then, with a small smile on his lips, would ask something like, "Do you really think that's a good idea?" You see, my father understood that people have to make up their own minds about things, that they have to make their own choices and learn from them. And these people would, over the course of the years, come back to my father at the different phases of their lives and talk to him about their issues. And he always would listen and have some wisdom to quietly impart. His patient manner invited them back. If he had moralized, they never would have given him another chance.
His parenting style was very similar. As I have said before, I was kind of a rebel. I would take it into my head that I wanted to do some crazy thing or other. My dad would have it out with me. We would often argue, quite loudly. But, in the end, he would say, quietly, "Well, it's your life. Do what you want to do." My defenses would thus go down, and I would think to myself, "Uh. Do I really want to do that crazy-ass thing?" And the answer was, usually -- no.
One of the best things my father ever did for me was this. When I was 20 years old and in college, I became engaged. It did not work out. Due to reasons I will not go into here, I called off the wedding one week before it was supposed to happen. I was 21 and devastated. I did not have the mental energy to go back to school. My father was sitting in his recliner chair a few days after the big event was cancelled, and he said to me, "You need a job." He then picked up the Want Ad section of the paper, looked for a few minutes, and announced, "Here is a good job. They need a loan clerk at the San Mateo County Credit Union. Call this lady -- Devonia." And he showed me the number. I picked up the phone that very minute and called this nice lady. I went for an interview the next day and was hired on the spot. It was the best thing that could have happened to me at the time. It was a wonderful job -- great co-workers, great life lessons, money in my pocket. And, there were LOTS of cops, deputies, and firefighters who had accounts at the credit union, and all of us gals there had great fun with them. Most of these guys had wonderful forearms; and if you have read my other posts, you know how I feel about great forearms on a guy. ;) This was all just what I needed to get over Mr. Wrong. I did end up going back to college, but I will always treasure the time I spent at the credit union. It is one of my fondest memories.
I really miss my dad. A lot of people do. He had a great impact on many, and this impact came through his quiet wisdom about life and about people. He taught me to listen; to not push too hard, especially as a parent; to respect the right of individuals to make their own decisions and to learn from them; to trust that, if given the freedom to do so, most people will make the right choices for themselves, at least eventually. And maybe we need to strive to learn from my dad's insights when looking at our society. Perhaps we need to give each other some space, even when we don't like each others' opinions and decisions, having hope that the majority of our fellow citizens do want to do the right thing when all is said and done.
My father was the son of Italian immigrants. His first language was Italian, and he didn't learn English until going to school. He actually skipped kindergarten, because he ran away the first three days. So, his teacher told his mom to keep him home until first grade. After that, he did very well in school, although he never enjoyed it. And that was one of his lessons to us -- sometimes, you just do what you are supposed to do, because you are supposed to do it. And you do your best, whether or not you are having a good time. More people could use that lesson, methinks.
After high school, my dad was drafted into the U.S. Army during the time of the Korean War. Being in the army was something he didn't much care for, either. But, he was of good character and had some excellent leadership skills, so he was made a squad leader. During his time in this position, my dad got so angry with a fellow soldier -- who was unwilling to take part in the weekly cleaning of the barracks -- that he broke a broom over his back. Yeah, my dad was kind of fiery sometimes. You know how Italians can be. As he said, though, he did not want to have his weekend liberty revoked because of this lazy dude. Understandable.
After his hitch in the army, my dad tried college, but he only lasted a semester. As I understand it, he was unwilling to spend his time listening to philosophy teachers wonder about whether or not we actually exist. So, he took a job as a teller at Bank of America, and was quickly promoted up through the ranks. During the 1970's, though, BofA began hiring a lot of MBA's fresh out of places like Stanford University. My father announced to our family that these guys were going to ruin the bank -- but, not out of any fault of their own. He explained that the Powers That Be at BofA hired these people fresh out of school, with no experience, and had them follow him around with clip boards for a couple of weeks, after which they were expected to do the same kind of job he was doing after working there for 16 years. When the big financial crisis hit a few years back, and we all found out the shenanigans that had been going on at BofA, I called my dad and said, "Well, you were right. The MBA's did end up ruining the bank." He did not disagree.
Upon seeing the writing on the wall at Bank of America, my dad fell back on the trade he learned from his own father. He renewed his general contractor's license and went into business for himself. He built new homes and remodeled older ones, always doing gorgeous work. People would often wait a year for him to do a job, rather than try to find anyone else. He built his own custom cabinets out of maple in the workshop he had in our garage; and he always, always cleaned up each job site immaculately at the end of each and every work day -- something that was greatly appreciated by his customers.
My dad had a reputation, among many people, of pretty much always being right. One of the reasons for this, I believe, is that he had an excellent intuitive grasp of human nature, of what makes people tick. Everyone loved my dad, no matter their religion, politics, sexual ethics, whatever -- because he was cool with all of them. He did dispense his advice, but usually gently, with an understanding that if you push people too hard, it will inevitably backfire. Here are a few of examples of what I mean.
My father interacted with a lot of young people -- family, children of his friends, subcontractors -- during the era of the "sexual revolution". Now, my father was a very good Catholic and very old-fashioned in his values. But, he also made people feel comfortable around him. So, often these young people -- well, the guys, anyway -- would tell him of their sexual adventures. Instead of acting shocked and lecturing them, my dad would listening patiently and with good humor. And then, with a small smile on his lips, would ask something like, "Do you really think that's a good idea?" You see, my father understood that people have to make up their own minds about things, that they have to make their own choices and learn from them. And these people would, over the course of the years, come back to my father at the different phases of their lives and talk to him about their issues. And he always would listen and have some wisdom to quietly impart. His patient manner invited them back. If he had moralized, they never would have given him another chance.
His parenting style was very similar. As I have said before, I was kind of a rebel. I would take it into my head that I wanted to do some crazy thing or other. My dad would have it out with me. We would often argue, quite loudly. But, in the end, he would say, quietly, "Well, it's your life. Do what you want to do." My defenses would thus go down, and I would think to myself, "Uh. Do I really want to do that crazy-ass thing?" And the answer was, usually -- no.
One of the best things my father ever did for me was this. When I was 20 years old and in college, I became engaged. It did not work out. Due to reasons I will not go into here, I called off the wedding one week before it was supposed to happen. I was 21 and devastated. I did not have the mental energy to go back to school. My father was sitting in his recliner chair a few days after the big event was cancelled, and he said to me, "You need a job." He then picked up the Want Ad section of the paper, looked for a few minutes, and announced, "Here is a good job. They need a loan clerk at the San Mateo County Credit Union. Call this lady -- Devonia." And he showed me the number. I picked up the phone that very minute and called this nice lady. I went for an interview the next day and was hired on the spot. It was the best thing that could have happened to me at the time. It was a wonderful job -- great co-workers, great life lessons, money in my pocket. And, there were LOTS of cops, deputies, and firefighters who had accounts at the credit union, and all of us gals there had great fun with them. Most of these guys had wonderful forearms; and if you have read my other posts, you know how I feel about great forearms on a guy. ;) This was all just what I needed to get over Mr. Wrong. I did end up going back to college, but I will always treasure the time I spent at the credit union. It is one of my fondest memories.
I really miss my dad. A lot of people do. He had a great impact on many, and this impact came through his quiet wisdom about life and about people. He taught me to listen; to not push too hard, especially as a parent; to respect the right of individuals to make their own decisions and to learn from them; to trust that, if given the freedom to do so, most people will make the right choices for themselves, at least eventually. And maybe we need to strive to learn from my dad's insights when looking at our society. Perhaps we need to give each other some space, even when we don't like each others' opinions and decisions, having hope that the majority of our fellow citizens do want to do the right thing when all is said and done.
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