Returning home from a Thanksgiving weekend away, we stopped at a rest area to stretch our legs and walk the dog. As I passed a parked sports car in the lot, I noticed that the driver had gone inside, but in the passenger seat of the two-seater sat a big teenaged boy, I’m guessing around sixteen, with headphones on, staring nonchalantly (as teenagers do) out the window. I wondered: when his dad gets back to the car, will he take off the headphones and talk, or will they ride along, shoulder to shoulder, in their little pods of silence?
As it got dark, I rode shotgun up and down the long hills in Connecticut, watching the families around us pass by. Inside nearly every other vehicle I could see little screens glowing: up in the ceiling, in the backs of headrests, clutched in hands. Now, I understand that long road trips with small children can be harrowing, especially as the hours drag on. “He’s on my side” arguments have evaporated as child-seat laws have kept them off each other physically, but there are plenty of battles over whose turn it is with which toy/book/pillow, or whose turn it is to choose the next (grating children’s music) CD. And there are times I’d love to pop in a movie and have a little time to myself or to chat (amazing!) with my husband. Is zoning out with your own personal LCD really the answer? Are we really incapable of existing without an information feed in front of us at all times?
There seem to be no chances anymore for families to really interact with each other. We’re too busy to sit down to meals together, and our activities and volunteer commitments and work schedules make us long for simpler times when we could hang out. Yet here is a golden opportunity to ask our kids questions, to involve them in family decisions (should we go to the park next weekend, or the zoo? What should we get Nana for Christmas? Have any of your friends asked you about trying cigarettes/booze/drugs?)
And we’re constantly finding new research that shows how increased screen time leads to obesity, violence, smoking, and heaven knows what else among children, yet instead of turning off their screens and spending time talking or reading with them, or playing actual games (anyone ever heard of “license plate bingo”?), we put screens in the backs of our headrests and hanging from the ceilings of minivans, where our kids spend an incredible amount of time as we catapult ourselves around our suburban idylls carpooling and running errands. We give them Nintendo DS players so they don’t have to suffer an instant’s boredom while waiting in line with mommy at the post office or at a doctor’s appointment. (Must be saving the restaurant industry a fortune in crayons and black-and-white paper placemats.) How will our children develop the ability to invent, create, and imagine if they never have quiet time to themselves? Not only will they be hamstrung in their scholastic endeavors, but as they enter the working world they will be much more effective and valuable employees if they are able to imagine creative, original solutions to problems they are presented with.
For your next road trip, encourage your children to interact with their surroundings and each other. Try playing the “I’m going on a trip, and I’m bringing…” game. Read books to each other. Put in a ridiculous holiday CD and everyone sing along. (Your toddler doesn’t know you can’t carry a tune.) Take turns telling everyone what you’re most thankful for. Get one of those dinner-party ice-breaker card games and play with your family. The memories will mean more than the best holiday gift you could buy.
11.23.2008
Why Can't We Accept Thanks Graciously?
I was listening to the end of an interview on a major public radio station the other morning, and the reporter finished with “Jane Doe, author of My Major New Novel. Jane, thank you for your time.” Jane replied, “Thank YOU.” And I thought, why is it that none of these people ever just say, “You’re welcome.”? I find myself avoiding it when thanked: “No problem,” or “I was going this way anyway,” or some other effacing comment. What is wrong with graciously accepting a little gratitude?
We have been taught from an early age to say “Thank you” whenever something, tangible or intangible, is offered or given to us. Our mothers exhort us to write thank-you notes any time we’re hosted, gifted, or honored by someone else. It’s become an industry, thank-you notes and gifts, and a concept most people are comfortable with. When we were little, we were told also to say “You’re welcome” every time we’re thanked, but for those old enough not to be reminded by their mothers "Say 'you're welcome'," this has fallen out of custom.
At what point in life does that simple sentence start making us uncomfortable? Are we nervous about appearing to have tried too hard? Will the recipient think we’re dorks because we care too much? Doubtful. By belittling the offering or the effort made in giving it, we reduce its value to the receiver. Think of it: you spend the afternoon making a home-cooked meal for your family and an out-of-town visitor, and at the end of the meal, your guest says, “Thank you, that was delicious.” By saying “It was nothing, really,” are you putting the guest at ease by minimizing your efforts? No, you are implying that they are not worth the effort they perceive you to have put out. Or if you simply hold the door for someone, and they thank you, by saying “no problem” you are reducing the value of your gesture and also the worthiness of the recipient.
Let’s all start simply saying “You’re welcome,” with smiles on our faces, and see how peaceful it can be. The best gifts are those given without hope for repayment, but a heartfelt “Thanks!” can be a gift in itself. In this season of gratitude, we should honor each other not only with thankfulness but also with graceful acknowledgement of each other’s thanks.
We have been taught from an early age to say “Thank you” whenever something, tangible or intangible, is offered or given to us. Our mothers exhort us to write thank-you notes any time we’re hosted, gifted, or honored by someone else. It’s become an industry, thank-you notes and gifts, and a concept most people are comfortable with. When we were little, we were told also to say “You’re welcome” every time we’re thanked, but for those old enough not to be reminded by their mothers "Say 'you're welcome'," this has fallen out of custom.
At what point in life does that simple sentence start making us uncomfortable? Are we nervous about appearing to have tried too hard? Will the recipient think we’re dorks because we care too much? Doubtful. By belittling the offering or the effort made in giving it, we reduce its value to the receiver. Think of it: you spend the afternoon making a home-cooked meal for your family and an out-of-town visitor, and at the end of the meal, your guest says, “Thank you, that was delicious.” By saying “It was nothing, really,” are you putting the guest at ease by minimizing your efforts? No, you are implying that they are not worth the effort they perceive you to have put out. Or if you simply hold the door for someone, and they thank you, by saying “no problem” you are reducing the value of your gesture and also the worthiness of the recipient.
Let’s all start simply saying “You’re welcome,” with smiles on our faces, and see how peaceful it can be. The best gifts are those given without hope for repayment, but a heartfelt “Thanks!” can be a gift in itself. In this season of gratitude, we should honor each other not only with thankfulness but also with graceful acknowledgement of each other’s thanks.
10.06.2008
Ants to Grasshopper: Buzz Off!
The fable of the Ant and the Grasshopper tells how the grasshopper watches the ants working hard collecting food in the summer sun, while he reclines singing on a blade of grass. He asks why they work so hard, and the ant replies that they are saving for winter. The grasshopper pooh-poohs this theory, reasoning that there will be plenty of time to save after enjoying the fine weather for a while longer.
Fast-forward to the blizzardy middle of winter, when the grasshopper knocks on the ants’ door, starving and shivering in the cold. The ants tell him to buzz off, and remind him of his indolence while the weather was fine. The grasshopper freezes to death and the ants laugh around the dinner table in the warm glow of companionship and full bellies.
2008 Version: The ants work hard all summer, and stockpile enough supplies to lend some to the grasshopper, who promises there will be even more to return to the ants after some deals with other insect groups. The ants keep working hard while the grasshopper makes such gains that he’s able to buy acres of sod and buckets of honey, and he starts lending the ants’ surplus to the earthworms, who don’t really have anything of their own to speak of, but who promise they’ll pay it back later. But when the grasshopper tries to collect from the earthworms when the contract comes due, the earthworms still don’t have any way to pay the grasshopper back. The grasshopper then proclaims that the whole system of barter and inter-insect collateral will collapse unless the ants pony up their remaining piles of hard-earned supplies.
The ants, after much deliberation, decide that while they are really angry about the foolish frittering of their food, they’ll scrape the bottom of the barrel to bail out the ridiculous gamble by the greedy grasshopper just to keep the whole insect food supply from collapsing. Meanwhile, the honeybees, who had expected further profits for their honey sales, see the value of their stockpiles collapsing in the wake of the ants’ troubles, and are forced into their own downturn. The whole garden suffers and tightens the belts around their thoraces in anticipation of the deprivations to come.
Until around mid-November, when the ants decide they’ve had enough, band together, kidnap the grasshopper, roast him over an open flame, send the legs to the earthworms and share the rest of the barbeque with the long-suffering honeybees, who contribute a lovely ’87-vintage mead to the festivities. Everyone vows not to speak to grasshoppers for all the summers to come.
I think I’ll see if anyone’s hungry for wings.
Fast-forward to the blizzardy middle of winter, when the grasshopper knocks on the ants’ door, starving and shivering in the cold. The ants tell him to buzz off, and remind him of his indolence while the weather was fine. The grasshopper freezes to death and the ants laugh around the dinner table in the warm glow of companionship and full bellies.
2008 Version: The ants work hard all summer, and stockpile enough supplies to lend some to the grasshopper, who promises there will be even more to return to the ants after some deals with other insect groups. The ants keep working hard while the grasshopper makes such gains that he’s able to buy acres of sod and buckets of honey, and he starts lending the ants’ surplus to the earthworms, who don’t really have anything of their own to speak of, but who promise they’ll pay it back later. But when the grasshopper tries to collect from the earthworms when the contract comes due, the earthworms still don’t have any way to pay the grasshopper back. The grasshopper then proclaims that the whole system of barter and inter-insect collateral will collapse unless the ants pony up their remaining piles of hard-earned supplies.
The ants, after much deliberation, decide that while they are really angry about the foolish frittering of their food, they’ll scrape the bottom of the barrel to bail out the ridiculous gamble by the greedy grasshopper just to keep the whole insect food supply from collapsing. Meanwhile, the honeybees, who had expected further profits for their honey sales, see the value of their stockpiles collapsing in the wake of the ants’ troubles, and are forced into their own downturn. The whole garden suffers and tightens the belts around their thoraces in anticipation of the deprivations to come.
Until around mid-November, when the ants decide they’ve had enough, band together, kidnap the grasshopper, roast him over an open flame, send the legs to the earthworms and share the rest of the barbeque with the long-suffering honeybees, who contribute a lovely ’87-vintage mead to the festivities. Everyone vows not to speak to grasshoppers for all the summers to come.
I think I’ll see if anyone’s hungry for wings.
9.27.2008
Media Distracts Voters from Issues with Celebrity-esque Gobbledygook
I was having dinner with some family members recently, and conversation turned to the Supreme Court. (Clearly, this was early in the evening.) My cousin startled me by being able, with his wife’s help, to name all nine Supreme Court Justices. Now, I’ll give you that she worked in politics for a while, but I couldn’t believe that they could remember all nine judges’ names. After my shock subsided, I was overcome by shame. I could name only four. Why is it that I can remember who Jessica Simpson’s hairdresser is, or the names of Britney’s kids, or what Li-Lo was driving when she got pulled over for DUI, but I know so little about the people who are interpreting the Constitution and affecting my life directly? I’ve joined the ranks of media whores.
Aside from the current economic bung-up, there are some serious political problems going on around here. We’re being stunned by inane, self-indulgent bells and whistles that distract us from using our brains to keep our country moving forward in a magnanimous, mutually beneficial track. Like when you distract a toddler with a shiny toy so he doesn’t notice you’re about to stick him with a needle. Politicians have become celebrities – one of them even, allegedly, “the most famous person in the world.”
In an era when we are bombarded with tabloid melodrama and paparazzi invasions of privacy, we’ve let the media convince us that it’s more important to know whether a “polebrity” has a history of marijuana use during college or how they laugh in front of a press conference than where they stand on issues that will keep us safe, healthy, and well educated. Is it really possible that Mitt Romney’s campaign got as far as it did just because he has perfect hair? Does it matter, in the long run, whether Obama went to Hawaii on vacation? Whether McCain writes emails or has someone do it for him? What are they going to do about the fact that people can’t afford medical insurance? How are they going to keep the oil lobby from squelching energy technology advances that might preserve our environment? I don’t care what Sarah Palin wore to meet Hamid Karzai; I want to know whether she talked to him about reducing terrorist activity in the Middle East.
How have we let them convince us that it’s more important whether a candidate is “likeable” or “elitist” than whether they have an interest in resolving complex issues that trouble our society? How can we expect to be taken seriously among our international community if we focus on politicians’ cleavage or their children’s names instead of pressing them (and their parties) to work to resolve issues in a timely and bipartisan manner?
The other day I came across the quote from a voter during the 2004 election that said W seemed like a guy you’d want to have a beer with. News flash: we don’t need a drinking buddy, we need a leader.
How do we save ourselves? Read the candidates’ stances on the issues, and make up our own minds. It’s time to turn off the news and turn on our brains. The polls don’t matter until November 4.
Aside from the current economic bung-up, there are some serious political problems going on around here. We’re being stunned by inane, self-indulgent bells and whistles that distract us from using our brains to keep our country moving forward in a magnanimous, mutually beneficial track. Like when you distract a toddler with a shiny toy so he doesn’t notice you’re about to stick him with a needle. Politicians have become celebrities – one of them even, allegedly, “the most famous person in the world.”
In an era when we are bombarded with tabloid melodrama and paparazzi invasions of privacy, we’ve let the media convince us that it’s more important to know whether a “polebrity” has a history of marijuana use during college or how they laugh in front of a press conference than where they stand on issues that will keep us safe, healthy, and well educated. Is it really possible that Mitt Romney’s campaign got as far as it did just because he has perfect hair? Does it matter, in the long run, whether Obama went to Hawaii on vacation? Whether McCain writes emails or has someone do it for him? What are they going to do about the fact that people can’t afford medical insurance? How are they going to keep the oil lobby from squelching energy technology advances that might preserve our environment? I don’t care what Sarah Palin wore to meet Hamid Karzai; I want to know whether she talked to him about reducing terrorist activity in the Middle East.
How have we let them convince us that it’s more important whether a candidate is “likeable” or “elitist” than whether they have an interest in resolving complex issues that trouble our society? How can we expect to be taken seriously among our international community if we focus on politicians’ cleavage or their children’s names instead of pressing them (and their parties) to work to resolve issues in a timely and bipartisan manner?
The other day I came across the quote from a voter during the 2004 election that said W seemed like a guy you’d want to have a beer with. News flash: we don’t need a drinking buddy, we need a leader.
How do we save ourselves? Read the candidates’ stances on the issues, and make up our own minds. It’s time to turn off the news and turn on our brains. The polls don’t matter until November 4.
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