When I was your age...

To be 16 again... 

I was in my junior year of high school, and everything was so dramatic.  Who likes who went where with who when?  Parties, dances, sleepovers, homework, actual work, my life was exhausting.  Then I got older and there were more parties, homework and tons more actual work, and finally the homework was over, but so were most of the parties. That left actual work and housework.  Then children and housework and actual work. 

I had it soooo good.  A Mom who loved me enough to make rules, a great town with a good school system and the Five Colleges close enough  to get into some trouble, but not too much.  I was sheltered from the reality of the world.  All the attitude and grief I gave my mother was because I was so sheltered in my little community and had no idea what it was like to wonder if I would be attacked on my way to school, sold as a slave or scrounge for food; clean water was a given, not a novelty; a police officer might deliver me to my mother if it was after curfew, but I never was afraid he would beat, rape and kill me for being a girl, and therefore property.  Those are real tragedies, not missing a party or being grounded for skipping school.

As I get older and begin to tell the "When I was a teenager" stories, the teens and preteens in my life roll their eyes.  Their lives are so terribly tragic...parents who love and want to spend time with them, homework from top quality schools, ipods and nooks and texting like crazy.  They have it soooo good.  And someday after parties and sleepovers turn to work and motherhood, they will realize just how good they had it.  Especially when their children are deep into the drama of it all.  It is clear to me now that payback for behaving the way that I did to my mother, is having children who are just like me.  Drama queens.

I wouldn't want to be 16 again.  I had a good time, but I am glad I can now appreciate how great my life is.

Sharp grass

When we lived on Cape Cod we were lucky to have green grass.  I don't know how it happened, perhaps the grass thrived on dropped crackers and bare baby feet, but whatever it was, it was just short of a miracle.  Our lawn had a lot of shade, the kids were always running under the sprinkler so our grass grew relatively well considering sand was a few inches under the soil. I often made fun of our friends who lived across town and had brown grass that hurt when you stepped on it. And it stood out because most of the lawns on the Cape are lush, green and full of toxic chemicals...how else do you get grass to grow in sand?

As I watch the Trugreen truck rolling down our street I think of the irony.  We now live amid farms in the fertile Connecticut River Valley and our lawn is brown...and sharp.  And we do stick out because half of our neighbors are retired and spend hours each day creating gorgeous gardens and manicuring their lawns and the other half hire landscapers to create thick, deep, green lawns that beg you to take off your shoes and sink in.  This is an urge one must deny because everyone on our street uses chemical fertilizer and pesticides to create fancy yards I won't allow my children to play in.  We look across and admire the grass that truly is greener on the other side, but stick to our belief that healthy children win over a beautiful yard every time.

It is only the beginning of the season, and today's showers will bring forth grass less like razorblades and more welcoming to the bare feet that pummel it all summer.  I toy with the idea of using a chemical fertilizer and then I think of all the other places the toxins seep into my children's little bodies, and the friends who have survived cancer, and those who have not.  I know the neighbors wish we would do something more, but we rake, we plant flowers and try to keep up with the weeds. Even though my chemical avoidance is merely a drop of water compared to the  massive river of chemicals my neighbors, and many others across the nation, use, I try to console myself with the thought that the person who gets the last drop of clean water will be glad that we cared less about lush, green grass, and more about playing in the grass. 

Let's get ready to RUMBLE!

As a parent there are many things your find yourself saying, that previous to that moment in time seemed ridiculous.  "Take the goggles off the cat."  "Stop eating your boogies."  "No eating things off the sidewalk." And the list goes on.  As a human there are also things that I never thought I would say.  "Sometimes violence is necessary to keep people safe."  "Perhaps I overuse bleach."  "I bet if the cat had opposable thumbs she would make us brownies."

 However, the most ridiculous truth happened today in the car on the way to Wal Mart.  Listening to NPR, I realized that I agree with Jesse Ventura on a lot of issues.  Jesse Ventura.  The former wrestler. A guy who used to get dressed up in a spandex outfit to pretend to fight with other profane guys.  A guy who I never heard utter an intelligent thought, but then became the governor of Minnesota.

As it turns out he and I have a lot of common views.  The misuse of our National Guard by the Government, how the Patriot Act removes all that the Constitution afforded the citizens  of the US, that both Democrats and Republicans are bought and no contender for public office can claim to be part of either party and still look out for the good of the American people. Mr. Ventura did not run for a second term because it took too much of a toll on his family, a position I respect and admire.

The man lost me when  he was talking about 9/11.  This conspiracy theory is too far fetched, or too terrifying for me to contemplate.  Clearly he has been researching this, but our government being involved is not something I choose to focus on. Otherwise, his interview on WAMC (Northeast Public Radio) was intelligent and straight forward.  
www.publicbroadcasting.net/wamc/news.newsmainaction=article&ARTICLE_ID=1788092

I still think some of his ideas are crazy, but anyone who has met me knows that is the pot calling the kettle black.  I judged a person by his past, and now realize that Mr. Ventura has more to offer than just being a bad guy in an over-the top wrestling scenario. After all, if someone heard me asking the cat to make me brownies, they might not think I am qualified to be Queen of the World...and boy would they be wrong.   ;-)

Longing for food, many are hungry.
Longing for truth, many still thirst.
Make us Your bread, broken for others,
Shared until all are fed.

Longing for shelter, many are homeless.
Longing for warmth, many are cold.
Make us Your home, sheltering others,
walls made of living stone.

Christ be our light,
Shine in our hearts, shine in the darkness.
Christ be our light,
Shine in Your church gathered today.

Something about this song really struck me this morning at SING!  Watching Maddy and Sophie belt it out with the other children on the drums and tambourines, (and the guitars and flute that accompany all our songs) was quite touching.  So many people need for things and many others need for peace.  It is hard to know where to begin.

Sometimes I wonder why I always volunteer to do millions of things.  If I am going to spend time away from my family, shouldn't I at  least get paid?   "Make us Your bread, broken for others, shared until all are fed."  Time and an able body I have, so that is what I must share. I have such a blessed life. Who said payment must be money?