Tag Archives: Youth

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The Cowardly Lion

The Happy LionIt has been quite a while since I thought about the Wizard of Oz. Truthfully I was never a huge fan of the movie. The witches and flying monkeys always bothered me.  I remember watching it once in the 80’s on TV and being perplexed when the scary monkeys didn’t appear.  The channel had cut them out for some unexplained reason, but even without the monkey scenes, I still wasn’t a fan.  By the time I reached adulthood, I had developed a dislike for the good witch as well as the bad one, but for entirely different reasons.

I thought Dorothy was childish, loved everything about Toto, felt sorry for the Tin Man, laughed at the Scarecrow, and wanted to pat the Cowardly Lion on the head.  I understood the point of the movie, but found it to be nauseatingly sweet.  Now, that I think about it more – I really didn’t like the movie.

Today however, I gained a greater appreciation for one of the characters.  I began to ponder the Cowardly Lion.  As long as he stayed in his dark and scary forest, he thought himself a coward.  He could not see the courage inside of himself; the courage it takes to live in a scary world and not run away.

Sadly, his definition of courage was based on the acts of thrill seekers and desperate men.  He thought that by facing danger, suffering hardship and journeying to some far off land, he would become brave and thereby receive the rewards given to brave men.   His journey to OZ had not been necessary, and even after leaving his comfort zone and placing himself in danger, he struggled to recognize his own natural courage. In the end, the Cowardly Lion had to be told of how he had always possessed the thing which he desired.  Even through the journey, danger and challenge, he had not recognized his own courageousness nature.

Real courage is often overlooked and undervalued.  The courage to like oneself, to make good choices, and to be your own cheerleader is too often called pride and therefore underdeveloped and under-recognized.  How many people, especially youth, seek challenge and danger just so they can receive a reward or praise?  Just so they can fit in with a crowd?

Today the Cowardly Lion became the focus of a mother-son discussion, and while the Wizard of Oz will never be a favorite movie, the Lion will hold a tender place in my heart.

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Great Benefits and The Best Pension Plan

I have just spent the last two weekends with my daughter learning how to weave, knit and crochet with metal.  My daughter even learned how to use an acetylene torch – with the eagle eye of the instructor watching her while my eagle eyes were fiercely averted.  I felt no need to learn how to use the torch, and even less desire to see my daughter wield the flame.  My daughter was eager to learn the new skill and was competent enough on her first try to work her second project unattended.

For the majority of the class we sat side by side, occasionally speaking, but mostly working in concentrated silence.  We each took opportunities to interact with the other students, and my daughter even switched tables once in order to learn something new from a fellow student.  There were times of abundant laughter and times of awkward silence in the class, but never did my daughter and I regret our seating arrangement.

We shared tools, commented on each other’s projects and gave each other pointers.  When she looked tired, I reminded her to drink some water.  When I looked uncomfortable, she asked if I needed her to get me something.

We created quite a bit of interesting work.  We each tried new things, but then gravitated to our comfort zones when tired.  She wove with metal using multiple techniques; I played with knitting and crochet.  Most of the time our color pallets clashed, but oddly at the very end we were using not only the same color pallet but utilizing the same technique to create strikingly different objects.

Is it luck that my teenaged daughter and I can have such positive experiences together?  No it is not luck.  It is lots of time, planning and work.  It is a full time job with great benefits and the very best of pension plans.

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Moments in Time: Monumental Lessons

The first moment I would like to share came when I was nine years old.  My mother, who was running marathons at the time, had a grave concern that I was going to grow up to be overweight, and thus decided to entice me to get fit with a bribe  She offered to take me to New York to participate in an all-female 10K, but only if I could run the distance without stopping beforehand.  The jog around Central Park was much more pleasant than the training runs, due mostly to the fact that my mom left me with some slower runners who were prone to take walking breaks. This moment in time taught me I could do anything if I tried hard enough, and that breaks make tasks much more pleasant to accomplish.

Jump ahead a handful of years to the summer when I was fourteen.  While my grandfather had dairy cows, a couple of his brothers had beef cattle and Quarter Horses.  I loved to ride, and would ride as often as I could convince someone to get me to a horse.  I had ridden with my mom and dad, with my cousins and brothers, even with a few uncles, but never with my grandfather, at least not since I was an infant in his arms.  That summer a unique thing happened, my grandfather took to the saddle one more time. With his older brother, and three grown nephews, he decided to revisit the days when he still used a horse to get the work done.  The men all had saddles, bridles and young mounts.  There was only one horse to be left behind, a thirty year old cattle pony which my mother had trained decades before.  My mom, neglecting to ask me or the men for permission, found an old broken bridle and without much warning, hoisted me up on the beautiful, wise, saddle-less mare. I was instructed to let the horse do the work, hold on and try my best not embarrass my mom.  Then off I went, chasing cows and jumping ditches right alongside my grandfather.  I had never before been as humbled or proud as I was on that day; the day I learned to hold on, stay quiet and cherish the moment.  Although my grandfather lived many more decades that was the last time he rode a horse, and the first time I really knew he was proud of me.

My next moment unfolded during the very first days of my sophomore year in college.  Over the summer, I had worked at a camp in Alabama teaching girls how to ride.  I had earned very little money at the camp, in truth only enough to cover the cost of unlimited riding lessons at college which I so desperately wanted, but which wasn’t covered by my student loans and grants.  It was a hard year to work at a summer camp, record rains kept us fighting mud and humidity.  Plus I had suffered a broken toe just a week into camp, causing me to limp through the remainder of the summer.   To my horror, after a week back at school and back in an English, rather than a Western saddle, my knee was painfully swollen and a trip to the doctor was in order.  As it turned out, all the limping from the broken toe had aggravated an old injury to the point where surgery was advised.  However, surgery was not an option for me.  Besides the fact that knee surgery wasn’t as nice and tidy as it is now; I didn’t have the insurance or funds to cover it.  Riding was therefore replaced by physical therapy. Therapy taught me that I could overcome the obstacle of pain and find a replacement for my lost love of riding. After months of working with the school physical therapist, I became healthy enough to train for the New York Marathon.

So with a marathon completed, I moved on to my next challenge: US Marine Corps Officer Candidate School.  In a mere seven weeks of the ten week program, I was left with tendonitis in all my toes, a torn muscle in my shoulder, a chipped tooth and various other minor injuries; all of which had not stopped my desire to be a Marine.  But then flu-like symptoms, unexplained leg swelling and dizziness set in and I was done. I decided that leaving on my own terms rather than in a wheel chair wasn’t quitting, it was just recognizing that my body wasn’t suited for what my brain wanted to do.   That summer I learned how to laugh instead of cry when I was in pain, even when the pain was from the heartache of leaving something behind.  

There are so many more moments in time I could share, but I will finish with one simple moment that occurred today when I was able to exercise for fifteen minutes on my elliptical machine.  Four years ago, I was advised by my doctor to take things slowly if I wanted to manage my fibromyalgia. When I asked what she meant, she replied, “Five minutes at a time.”  I wasn’t even sure how a person exercised for only five minutes at a time, but I was determined to learn.  I made a goal: have more energy when I turn fifty than I did when I turned forty.  I have had to overcome a lot of frustration. I have had to find a place to start and then I had to start again and again.  I have had to get creative and humble in my approach.   First I bought a cane so I would no longer feel so helpless when the fatigue hit.  Second, I bought a spinning wheel, for while I could not exercise without fatigue, and a strange feeling of guilt; I could spin yarn for hours and feel productive while doing it.  Finally, I gave myself permission to find strength in my weaknesses and opportunities in my limitations.

In our youth, time seemed endless, yet we rushed.  In our maturity, time seems brief, and we savor the moments we have left.

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Entitlement is a Symptom

I am a mother of two teenagers.  My boy turns sixteen in less than a month and my girl is in the first half of her fourteenth year. This fact does not make me an expert, however it does qualify me as a mother of our current generation of teens.

While my teens disagree with non-family adults at times, they are quick to apologize if they should act in a rude manner.  What I mean by this is that they speak their minds, defend their beliefs and apologize later even if they were in the right. They are good kids, they show respect for me and my husband.  They argue with us, as I believe they should because each argument leads to a lesson taught and learned.  They have said they are sorry for their attitudes more times than I can count and so have I (just not as often).  They have learned to respect people who deserve respect and have tolerance for those who do not.

I have the testimonials of others to confirm what I know from experience – I have good kids.  However, my kids didn’t get this way by chance and I didn’t win some good child lottery.  I worked diligently every day.  I went to bed praying every night to have better skills to teach my kids with, and forgiveness for my own shortcomings as well as theirs.  Too many days I yelled, too many times I became distracted, too often I waited longer than I should to give hugs and kisses.    I didn’t read to them enough, I didn’t play with them enough, but I did listen, observe and act.  I was in their lives, their faces and their business.  I still am.  I sacrifice for them. I give them all the tools they could possibly need to succeed. I drive them crazy with lectures, discussions and evaluations.  I am their mom, their confidant, their counselor and maybe just a tiny bit their friend.

It has not been, nor is it my goal to be their friend, but somehow, they like me.  Go figure, they like the grumpy, annoying, and nearly always right teacher, their mom.

So how have I managed this miracle?  Am I a Tiger Mom, or a French Mom or a Soccer Mom?  I am none of these things.  My success comes from spending endless hours talking to my kids, analyzing what they need, and acting.  In essence I parent them.

In 2004, Bill Cosby gave a speech in which he said, “We are not parenting.”  He also says that all the children “[know] is ‘gimme, gimme, gimme.’ These people [the parents] want to buy the friendship of a child….and the child couldn’t care less.”  He was talking to a very specific audience, an audience bigger than the one in the lecture hall that day.  His comments, which I advise all to read or watch, were directed to the lower and middle class black community of the United States, and he started a firestorm of fury.

However, I would like to direct his words to all of the middle and upper class of this nation, maybe even to the world.  I hear so much about the problem of youth entitlement, and how this is a “give me” generation, but where are their parents and grandparents in this debate?  Don’t get me wrong, I fully believe that the idiocy of the youth must be addressed, just as I have addressed my own children’s idiocy.  I have also addressed their grandparent’s idiocy of excess.  Excess money and toys do not make a child feel loved; only time and attention can generate that emotion.  Money and toys are easier to give and are a balm to the grandparent’s consciences when distance or busy lives keep them away from their posterity.  The child, old or young will not remember the money or toys when grandparents are gone, they will remember the games, stories and most of all the smiles and hugs that they shared with their “gramps and nanna”.

If it holds true that time and attention generate love, fondness and respect, then this recipe should work for parents as well as grandparents.

Often I have been told by working moms that they wish they could homeschool their kids as I do.  My answer has always been that they should use the hours of the evenings and weekends to work with their children.  Now, I don’t mean by heaping on more school subjects or doing endless housework (although working alongside your child is encouraged).  I mean that moms (and dads) should find a common interest or intrigue and pursue it together.  Yes, the zoo is fine or the museum, but unless you have a young biologist or artist in your home, try to find something else; something that you have to learn right alongside them, something new. It is amazing how much more open kids will be with you when the playing field has been evened.  Of course, word of warning, just like when teaching a child the game of chess you must help them win sometimes, while learning new skills and hobbies you should not outshine your child too much, let them compete with friends not parents for the blue ribbon.

When I hear adults complain about the “entitled youth”, I wonder about the parents and grandparents.  I wonder about the neighbor lady who is grandchildless, and the older gentleman whose children live far away.  How are they helping this generation?  I don’t think that the youth are the problem of today, I believe they are the byproduct of the problem.  Parents not parenting.  Grandparents spoiling rather than interacting.  Adults with kids grown, not volunteering in youth groups.  Society blaming the lost and not those who lost them.  Yes there will be some youth who will rebel or get lost regardless of the attention they recieve, but the effort should be made while there is still time left to make it.

I was brought up by a community of family and close neighbors.  When I had my children, I was not fortunate to have family nearby, so I found “family”.  I found aunts and uncles, grannies and grandpas, and even a few older cousins.  When someone moved away, I found a replacement.  I ensured that my children had a community of caring people in their lives.  I did this while I still worked full time and maintained it afterwards.  When my son faced a devastating internal struggle and his parent’s counsel did not help, we brought him to a loving “uncle” who spent time with him, listened to him and was always available, despite his own busy life as a father, husband and provider.  When my daughter struggled with self-doubt and low self-esteem, I found a bunch of “aunts” and “grandmas” who took her under their wing and nurtured her.

You will notice the word “I” was used quite often.  These are my kids and therefore I am accountable for them in their youth.

So what is the secret of my success, I spend time with my kids and I don’t do it alone – I don’t try to do it alone either.

(Just a note to the dads out their – all that I have stated, my husband agrees with, as parenting truly is a group effort.)