Moving

September 26th, 2009

“The earth was formless and void, and darkness was over the surface of the deep, and the Spirit of God was moving over the surface of the waters.” (genesis 1:2)

“Though the earth was formless and void, God was busy. The universe was static, but His Spirit was not. He wasn’t waiting for administrative approval to take an active role in the grand, defining moment of history. He was in motion. Even in the darkness, God was making His presence known.”
~ Vernon M. Whaley, Called to Worship (2009)

You know how I love words, and I’m always curious about their origins. So… I looked up the Hebrew word used here, seeking more on the mysterious nature of this “moving” of God’s Spirit. It is transliterated rachaph, and the lexicon I read defined it as “to be moved, affected, specially–with the feeling of tender love, hence to cherish.”

Yes, that’s quite moving.

Filed under Eye Opening Quotes, Soul + Spirit | Comment (0)

Waking Up on 9/11

September 11th, 2009

“We are living in a time of pervasive sleepwalking.”

I first read this quote back in 2000, and it has stayed embedded in my thoughts ever since. It speaks to the numbness we often feel in lives of complacency. The statement was attributed to the Greek 20th century poet, George Sefaris (circa 1939) in a book I read called Inventing Paradise by Edmund Keeley. It was an account of the so-called “generation of the 30s,” writers who cut their teeth during the years surrounding World War II in Greece, many from the exile to which they fled during the German invasion. It chronicled their activities and lifestyles through the war, the Greek occupation and the subsequent civil war. The book was primarily about Henry Miller and his friendship with many notable Greek nationalist poets, and it contained beautiful excerpts from some of their writings–many of which were not political in nature, but told the story of daily life in their homeland. George Sefaris was one of those poets. He spent much of his early life in exile, but later became a diplomat and was the first Greek to be awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1963.

In reading the book, I found it very compelling that through writing so vividly about life as a Greek, poets like Sefaris tapped into common thoughts and hopes that transcend geography. Such is the way of poetry! Henry Miller wrote of George Sefaris that he “had begun to ripen into a universal poet–by passionately rooting himself into the soil of his people.”

So, why am I writing this now? On this, the eighth anniversary of the September 11th attacks on our country, I’m thinking about the pitfalls of freedom–how though we are jarred from our slumber, we often so quickly slip back into its complacency. I almost forgot about 9/11. Eight years ago we were riveted to our computers and radios at my office. The second plane hit the towers shortly after I got to work. By the time we got out of a scheduled client meeting, the towers were down. This week it’s been just a fleeting thought.

As I often do, I was looking through one of my old journals this week and found my notes from Inventing Paradise, including Sefaris’ quote, and I could clearly remember the vivid thought process of Keeley’s description of that time period. I read the book in 2000, a year before the attacks of September 11th. In my journal entries, I recorded how accounts of the German occupation of Greece and the subsequent exile of many citizens reminded me that the only reason I can learn about some of the atrocities that occurred then is that those poets and statesmen survived. The stories of the ones who were murdered can only be pieced together, and some may never be told.

In 2001 we had the benefit of video cameras, cell phones, impromptu photographers and all that 21st century technology has to offer to record the events of 9/11. Still, some stories are only pieced together, and some may never be told. In these past eight years, the concerns, red or orange alerts and daily images of destruction have diminished. The shock and horror is not nearly as acute. And, though it’s colored much of our public and social policy, at times in the day to day it’s so forgettable.

My how freedom so easily settles into complacency of spirit. We live in the excess of a generation who has never known famine, lasting fear or often the honor required by sacrifice. My generation. September 11, 2001 only gave us a glimpse. Sadly enough, our freedom is often taken for granted because we only know how to be free. We’ve never experienced anything else. The events of 9/11 were the closest my generation has come to thinking our freedom was in real jeopardy–and even that jeopardy has turned more into an outrage and a springboard for the hot button issue du jour. Entrenched in freedom, I can so easily default to laziness, restlessness, ingratitude–to being asleep. George Sefaris’ observation of 70 years ago is a telling statement. Have I become lulled by my excess, my good fortune to have been born free and my privelege to have been granted freedom for all my life? Have I settled again into slumber, into contentedly closing my eyes to the world and the stories I encounter each day? Am I sleepwalking through this life of freedom?

“We are living in a time of pervasive sleepwalking.”

I first read this quote back in 2000, and it has stayed embedded in my thoughts ever since. It speaks to the numbness we often feel in lives of complacency. The statement was attributed to the Greek 20th century poet, George Sefaris (circa 1939) in a book I read called Inventing Paradise by Edmund Keeley. It was an account of the so-called “generation of the 30s,” writers who cut their teeth during the years surrounding World War II in Greece, many from the exile to which they fled during the German invasion. It chronicled their activities and lifestyles through the war, the Greek occupation and the subsequent civil war. The book was primarily about Henry Miller and his friendship with many notable Greek nationalist poets, and it contained beautiful excerpts from some of their writings–many of which were not political in nature, but told the story of daily life in their homeland. George Sefaris was one of those poets. He spent much of his early life in exile, but later became a diplomat and was the first Greek to be awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1963.

In reading the book, I found it very compelling that through writing so vividly about life as a Greek, poets like Sefaris tapped into common thoughts and hopes that transcend geography. Such is the way of poetry! Henry Miller wrote of George Sefaris that he “had begun to ripen into a universal poet–by passionately rooting himself into the soil of his people.”

So, why am I writing this now? On this, the eighth anniversary of the September 11th attacks on our country, I’m thinking about the pitfalls of freedom–how though we are jarred from our slumber, we often so quickly slip back into its complacency. I almost forgot about 9/11. Eight years ago we were riveted to our computers and radios at my office. The second plane hit the towers shortly after I got to work. By the time we got out of a scheduled client meeting, the towers were down. This week it’s been just a fleeting thought.

As I often do, I was looking through one of my old journals this week and found my notes from Inventing Paradise, including Sefaris’ quote, and I could clearly remember the vivid thought process surrounding Keeley’s description of that time period. I read the book in 2000, a year before the attacks of September 11th. In my journal entries, I recorded how accounts of the German occupation of Greece and the subsequent exile of many citizens reminded me that the only reason I can learn about some of the atrocities that occurred then is that those poets and statesmen survived. The stories of the ones who were murdered can only be pieced together, and some may never be told.

In 2001 we had the benefit of video cameras, cell phones, impromptu photographers and all that 21st century technology has to offer to record the events of 9/11. We have amazing collections of photos like those from the LIFE collection above documenting the heroism of so many. Still, some stories are only pieced together, and some may never be told. In these past eight years, the concerns, red or orange alerts and daily images of destruction have diminished. The shock and horror are not nearly as acute. And, though it’s colored much of our public and social policy, at times in the day to day it’s so forgettable.

My how freedom so easily settles into complacency of spirit. We live in the excess of a generation who has never known famine, lasting fear or often the sacrifice required by honor. My generation. September 11, 2001 only gave us a glimpse. Sadly enough, our freedom is often taken for granted because we only know how to be free. We’ve never experienced anything else. The events of 9/11 were the closest my generation has come to thinking our freedom was in real jeopardy–and even that jeopardy has turned more into an outrage and a springboard for the hot button issue du jour. When I read about the pervasive apathy or disillusionment associated with “generation X,” I wonder. What do we have to be disillusioned about? We’ve lived our whole lives in the lap of freedom’s luxury. Entrenched in freedom, I can so easily default to laziness, restlessness, and ingratitude–to being asleep to the things that really matter, to the responsibilities inherent in this place of freedom. George Sefaris’ observation of 70 years ago is telling. Have I become lulled by my excess, my good fortune to have been born free and my privelege to have been granted freedom for all my life? Have I settled again into slumber, into contentedly closing my eyes to the world and the stories I encounter each day? Am I sleepwalking through this life of freedom?

Filed under Politics + Social Issues, Reading + Writing | Comments (2)

Guest Post: Parenting the Nearly Grown

September 8th, 2009

As I mentioned on Sunday, I’m pleased to post an essay written by Masha Hamilton. Ms. Hamilton is an author I’m just becoming aware of, and I’m eager to read her new novel, 31 Hours, which launches today. As I wrote in Sunday’s post, there is a level of fear that seems inherent in parenting that comes from the challenge of watching those so precious amble around outside your ability to intervene. I’ve heard it descibed as watching your heart walk around outside your body. True.

In addition to that fear, as children grow, we are faced with not only the dangers and entrapment of the big world, but also the realization that they are increasingly able to make their own choices–and bear the consequences outside of our control. For my gifts, I can see (sometimes in slow motion) the chair as it’s tipping or the feet as they’re stumbling. I can scoop them up with hugs and kisses. I can apply ointment and bandaids and all the sympathy my heart can muster. As they grow beyond my ability to scoop, I’m left with the same poignant questions Ms. Hamilton poses.

I clearly remember the unavoidable sorrow in the first few times I realized Little Drummer Boy would one day disappoint me–disappointment in the sense that he would make a choice I knew wasn’t good for him. I remember discussing it with his daycare “teacher” when he was an infant. She was at a different stage, much like Ms. Hamilton, faced with the possibility that her grown children might be on verge of losing their way. Does the fear and responsibility of parenting really ever end?

Parenting the Nearly Grown by Mash Hamilton

“Times are bad. Children no longer obey their parents, and everyone is writing a book.” Roman philosopher and orator Marcus Tullius Cicero, 106-43 B.C.

Not long after the second of my three children was born, I sat at the kitchen table late one evening talking to my dad about parental responsibility. It’s a big topic and we were covering lots of philosophical ground, but what I remember most is my pronouncement that my primary job could be boiled down quite simply and starkly: I had to keep safe these beings released into my charge. I needed to keep them alive.

These were the musings of a new parent, of course. The circumstances, too, should be considered; the first child had been born in Jerusalem during the intefadeh, and the second was born as I was reporting from Moscow during the collapse of Communism. In both situations, I repeatedly came face-to-face with life’s fragility.

But even in calmer times, even after the birth of my third child, I never lost the feeling that my main duty was to pass them on into adulthood as unscathed as possible, as healthy in every way as they could be.

It sounds pretty simple, on the face of it. We perform many jobs as parents: nurturers, playmates, cheerleaders, short-order cooks, nurses, disciplinarians, detectives, spiritual leaders. Keeping them safe should not be the hardest, not with the help of baby monitors, plastic devices to cover electrical outlets, pads for sharp corners, child-proof medicine bottles, the list goes on.

And in fact, we passed through well, with just the usual rounds of stitches, one violent dog attack, a rabies scare and a few months when my youngest fell so often and got so many bumps on his forehead that my husband and I joked someone was surely going to call child services on us.

Now, though, my youngest is 14, and as they’ve grown, I recognize my job has been transformed. It is to give them trust and space so they can develop confidence in their ability to make their own lives. And yet the two oldest, at ages 19 and 20, are in a period of time that seems almost like a parentheses in their lives. They are certainly not children, but nor are they quite adults. Meanwhile, I say and think all the usual things parents have been saying and thinking since—well, perhaps ever since Cicero, whose words I keep taped to my office wall: it’s rougher out there than it was in my time. More chaotic. More violent. More dangerous.

And everyone is writing a book.

It was, in fact, into my latest novel, 31 Hours, that I channeled my fears. Among other things, the novel offered a chance to explore what it means to be the parent of someone on the cusp of adulthood but not yet there. The mother in 31 Hours, Carol, is strong and independent, free of empty nest syndrome, but her maternal intuition is strong and she’s concerned about her 21-year-old son’s growing emotional distance, the way he seems tense and depressed. Her fears are amorphous and hard to convey; nevertheless, as she lies awake in the dark, she decides to trust the hunch that something is wrong, and to spend the next day trying to track her son Jonas down and “mother him until he shrugs her off.”

There are many themes in the novel, but one question it asks—one pertinent to all parents and one I’m still trying to answer for myself—is this: after years of being vigilant and protecting our kids, what should we do—and what are we allowed to do—to keep them safe once they are nearly, but not quite, grown?

“Times are bad. Children no longer obey their parents, and everyone is writing a book.” Roman philosopher and orator Marcus Tullius Cicero, 106-43 B.C.

Not long after the second of my three children was born, I sat at the kitchen table late one evening talking to my dad about parental responsibility. It’s a big topic and we were covering lots of philosophical ground, but what I remember most is my pronouncement that my primary job could be boiled down quite simply and starkly: I had to keep safe these beings released into my charge. I needed to keep them alive.

These were the musings of a new parent, of course. The circumstances, too, should be considered; the first child had been born in Jerusalem during the intefadeh, and the second was born as I was reporting from Moscow during the collapse of Communism. In both situations, I repeatedly came face-to-face with life’s fragility.

But even in calmer times, even after the birth of my third child, I never lost the feeling that my main duty was to pass them on into adulthood as unscathed as possible, as healthy in every way as they could be.

It sounds pretty simple, on the face of it. We perform many jobs as parents: nurturers, playmates, cheerleaders, short-order cooks, nurses, disciplinarians, detectives, spiritual leaders. Keeping them safe should not be the hardest, not with the help of baby monitors, plastic devices to cover electrical outlets, pads for sharp corners, child-proof medicine bottles, the list goes on.

And in fact, we passed through well, with just the usual rounds of stitches, one violent dog attack, a rabies scare and a few months when my youngest fell so often and got so many bumps on his forehead that my husband and I joked someone was surely going to call child services on us.

Now, though, my youngest is 14, and as they’ve grown, I recognize my job has been transformed. It is to give them trust and space so they can develop confidence in their ability to make their own lives. And yet the two oldest, at ages 19 and 20, are in a period of time that seems almost like a parentheses in their lives. They are certainly not children, but nor are they quite adults. Meanwhile, I say and think all the usual things parents have been saying and thinking since—well, perhaps ever since Cicero, whose words I keep taped to my office wall: it’s rougher out there than it was in my time. More chaotic. More violent. More dangerous.

And everyone is writing a book.

It was, in fact, into my latest novel, 31 Hours, that I channeled my fears. Among other things, the novel offered a chance to explore what it means to be the parent of someone on the cusp of adulthood but not yet there. The mother in 31 Hours, Carol, is strong and independent, free of empty nest syndrome, but her maternal intuition is strong and she’s concerned about her 21-year-old son’s growing emotional distance, the way he seems tense and depressed. Her fears are amorphous and hard to convey; nevertheless, as she lies awake in the dark, she decides to trust the hunch that something is wrong, and to spend the next day trying to track her son Jonas down and “mother him until he shrugs her off.”

There are many themes in the novel, but one question it asks—one pertinent to all parents and one I’m still trying to answer for myself—is this: after years of being vigilant and protecting our kids, what should we do—and what are we allowed to do—to keep them safe once they are nearly, but not quite, grown?

A special thank you to Masha Hamilton for this essay, and to Unbridled Books for providing a copy of 31 Hours for me to read. Stay tuned for my review posting in a few weeks!

As I mentioned on Sunday, I’m pleased to post an essay written by Masha Hamilton. Ms. Hamilton is an author I’m just becoming aware of, and I’m eager to read her new novel, 31 Hours, which launches today. As I wrote in Sunday’s post, there is a level of fear that seems inherent in parenting that comes from the challenge of watching those so precious amble around outside your ability to intervene. I’ve heard it descibed as watching your heart walk around outside your body. True.

In addition to that fear, as children grow, we are faced with not only the dangers and entrapment of the big world, but also the realization that they are increasingly able to make their own choices–and bear the consequences outside of our control. For my gifts, I can see (sometimes in slow motion) the chair as it’s tipping or the feet as they’re stumbling. I can scoop them up with hugs and kisses. I can apply ointment and bandaids and all the sympathy my heart can muster. As they grow beyond my ability to scoop, I’m left with the same poignant questions Ms. Hamilton poses.

I clearly remember the unavoidable sorrow in the first few times I realized Little Drummer Boy would one day disappoint me–disappointment in the sense that he would make a choice I knew wasn’t good for him. I remember discussing it with his daycare “teacher” when he was an infant. She was at a different stage, much like Ms. Hamilton, faced with the possibility that her grown children might be on verge of losing their way. Does the fear and responsibility of parenting really ever end?

Parenting the Nearly Grown
by Masha Hamilton

“Times are bad. Children no longer obey their parents, and everyone is writing a book.” Roman philosopher and orator Marcus Tullius Cicero, 106-43 B.C.

Not long after the second of my three children was born, I sat at the kitchen table late one evening talking to my dad about parental responsibility. It’s a big topic and we were covering lots of philosophical ground, but what I remember most is my pronouncement that my primary job could be boiled down quite simply and starkly: I had to keep safe these beings released into my charge. I needed to keep them alive.

These were the musings of a new parent, of course. The circumstances, too, should be considered; the first child had been born in Jerusalem during the intefadeh, and the second was born as I was reporting from Moscow during the collapse of Communism. In both situations, I repeatedly came face-to-face with life’s fragility.

But even in calmer times, even after the birth of my third child, I never lost the feeling that my main duty was to pass them on into adulthood as unscathed as possible, as healthy in every way as they could be.

It sounds pretty simple, on the face of it. We perform many jobs as parents: nurturers, playmates, cheerleaders, short-order cooks, nurses, disciplinarians, detectives, spiritual leaders. Keeping them safe should not be the hardest, not with the help of baby monitors, plastic devices to cover electrical outlets, pads for sharp corners, child-proof medicine bottles, the list goes on.

And in fact, we passed through well, with just the usual rounds of stitches, one violent dog attack, a rabies scare and a few months when my youngest fell so often and got so many bumps on his forehead that my husband and I joked someone was surely going to call child services on us.

Now, though, my youngest is 14, and as they’ve grown, I recognize my job has been transformed. It is to give them trust and space so they can develop confidence in their ability to make their own lives. And yet the two oldest, at ages 19 and 20, are in a period of time that seems almost like a parentheses in their lives. They are certainly not children, but nor are they quite adults. Meanwhile, I say and think all the usual things parents have been saying and thinking since—well, perhaps ever since Cicero, whose words I keep taped to my office wall: it’s rougher out there than it was in my time. More chaotic. More violent. More dangerous.

And everyone is writing a book.

It was, in fact, into my latest novel, 31 Hours, that I channeled my fears. Among other things, the novel offered a chance to explore what it means to be the parent of someone on the cusp of adulthood but not yet there. The mother in 31 Hours, Carol, is strong and independent, free of empty nest syndrome, but her maternal intuition is strong and she’s concerned about her 21-year-old son’s growing emotional distance, the way he seems tense and depressed. Her fears are amorphous and hard to convey; nevertheless, as she lies awake in the dark, she decides to trust the hunch that something is wrong, and to spend the next day trying to track her son Jonas down and “mother him until he shrugs her off.”

There are many themes in the novel, but one question it asks—one pertinent to all parents and one I’m still trying to answer for myself—is this: after years of being vigilant and protecting our kids, what should we do—and what are we allowed to do—to keep them safe once they are nearly, but not quite, grown?

A special thank you to Masha Hamilton for this essay, and to Unbridled Books for providing a copy of 31 Hours for me to read. Stay tuned for my review posting in a few weeks!

Filed under Family + Motherhood, Reading + Writing | Comment (0)

Monday MeMyBook&Eye: Geek Finale

August 24th, 2009

For my final Bringing Up Geeks post for the MeMyBook&Eye solo book club, I thought I’d highlight a few of the over-arching lessons in parenting (and life) that I’ve gleaned from this inspiring book by Marybeth Hicks. I haven’t specifically commented upon 6 of the 10 geek parenting principles Marybeth outlines: Raising a Late Bloomer, Team Player, True Friend, Homebody, Principled Kid and Faithful Kid. However, I found those chapters just as timely and challenging as the first 4 “rules” in Marybeth’s practical and common sense approach to parenting in today’s cool-obsessed culture. I hope you’ll go to your local book store or library and form your own opinions about the principles she outlines.

From page 1 of this book, several general themes have stood out to me consistently as very significant, perspective-shifting reminders of the realities of parenting my gifts in society today. While many of the themes reflect beliefs I already had or demonstrate facts I already knew, Marybeth’s observations and advice on how these issues play out in the real day-to-day decisions of 2009 have been invaluable. At the end of this post, I’ll share several specific sections of the book (with page numbers) that I strongly recommend as resources–one I’ve marked to read again periodically because of their power and practicality. But, first, my list of 8 smart parenting realities I’ve learned from Bringing Up Geeks:

1. Culture cannot be trusted. (As if there were any doubt.) No, culture doesn’t want the best for my child. Culture does not want to educate my child, to keep him healthy, or to help him be the person he was created to be. No, that’s a fallacy perpetuated by culture itself. Culture is not an adequate judge of what is acceptable. For my kids, that would be my job. The cultural machine is made up of people and companies who’s goal is to make money. Bottom line: Culture defines my babies by their demographic markers and their ability to influence spending–nothing more.

2. Parenting is longterm. My goals need to be centered in “life,” not in the passing phases of popularity. Children become adults. There’s the ball.

3. Take responsibility. Get a set of standards and stand for them. Parenting my kids is my responsibility. If I abdicate that responsibility to culture, it’s not CNN’s fault, or public school’s or the left wing agenda’s. “We don’t lose authority, we give it away.” (pg. 17)

4. Innocence is worth protecting. Culture’s rushing of my children to know more and do more is motivated by money. Countless research studies show premature exposure to entertainment and activites that are fitting for mature adults increases the danger and risk to children both physically, developmentally and socially. We don’t stop the cycle because we are lazy. Period. I MUST recognize the value of innocence and take the necessary steps to guard it–even if it makes me “that” preschool mom.

5. Standards produce free children and free adults. Culture offers a seductive, but false, freedom centered in a life without boundaries. But children who’s status is subject to the whims of the popular crowd, the latest trends and the size of their pocketbooks are chained to just those things. They become adults who are chained to those things raising more children chained to those things. Standards and boundaries provide safe and secure place for my children to explore the world and become the people they were created to be.

6. Value true value. Culture establishes a false sense of value that is derived primarily from possessions. I want to base my parenting (and purchasing) decisions on what is truly valuable.

7. Knowledge is parenting power. If I am to make the best decisions and open the most opportunities for my gifts, I have to take the time to evaluate. Going with the cultural flow (even at preschool) is the easy way out, certainly the path of least resistance. When I make the effort to know what is out there, to measure it against my standards, to pause before saying yes, to make an informed decision, my choices have meaning and power.

8. Family trumps friendship. That’s not to say the friendship isn’t important. It is very valuable. But, I don’t want 4-year-old or 6th-grade or even 11th-grade friendships to be the basis of my child’s view of the world. Despite what culture may have us believe, families (not peer groups) are the building blocks of society and the primary means of nurturing and growing productive and principled adults. Family time is vital, and it’s ok to say “no” to protect it.

A few passages of Bringing Up Geeks I’ll be reading again:

1. Rules for Surfing the Net (page 75-76 & 78)

2. Essential Media Literacy concepts from the Center for Media Literacy (page 80-81)

3. Tips for fostering play and hobbies (page 105-109)

4. Guidelines for electronic games (page 109-112

5. Encouraging Modesty in Dress (page 165-169)

6. Elements of Good Character (page 263-265)

7. Basic “tenets” of “moralistic therapeutic deism” (page 282-283) — yikes!

8. Letter to Katie (page 290-291)

9. Chapter One — just a good reality check!

One final note before I move on to other reading selections: A special thank you to Marybeth Hicks for giving me a copy of her book to review and for her willingness to communicate with me directly rather than through a media rep. It’s been a pleasure!

Stay tuned in the coming weeks as MeMyBook&Eye shifts focus to living by the numbers with 10-10-10 by Suzy Welch!

For my final Bringing Up Geeks post for the MeMyBook&Eye solo book club, I thought I’d highlight a few of the over-arching lessons in parenting (and life) that I’ve gleaned from this inspiring book by Marybeth Hicks. I haven’t specifically commented upon 6 of the 10 geek parenting principles Marybeth outlines: Raising a Late Bloomer, Team Player, True Friend, Homebody, Principled Kid and Faithful Kid. However, I found those chapters just as timely and challenging as the first 4 “rules” in Marybeth’s practical and common sense approach to parenting in today’s cool-obsessed culture. I hope you’ll go to your local book store or library and form your own opinions about the principles she outlines.

From page 1 of this book, several general themes have stood out to me consistently as very significant, perspective-shifting reminders of the realities of parenting my gifts in society today. While many of the themes reflect beliefs I already had or demonstrate facts I already knew, Marybeth’s observations and advice on how these issues play out in the real day-to-day decisions of 2009 have been invaluable. At the end of this post, I’ll share several specific sections of the book (with page numbers) that I strongly recommend as resources–ones I’ve marked to read again periodically because of their power and practicality. But, first, my list of 8 smart parenting realities I’ve learned from Bringing Up Geeks:

1. Culture cannot be trusted. (As if there were any doubt.) No, culture doesn’t want the best for my child. Culture does not want to educate my child, to keep him healthy, or to help him be the person he was created to be. No, that’s a fallacy perpetuated by culture itself. Culture is not an adequate judge of what is acceptable. For my kids, that would be my job. The cultural machine is made up of people and companies who’s goal is to make money. Bottom line: Culture defines my babies by their demographic markers and their ability to influence spending–end of story.

2. Parenting is longterm. My goals need to be centered in “life,” not in the passing phases of popularity. Children become adults. There’s the ball.

3. Take responsibility. Get a set of standards and stand for them. Parenting my kids is my responsibility. If I abdicate that responsibility to culture, it’s not CNN’s fault, or public school’s or the left wing agenda’s. “We don’t lose authority, we give it away.” (pg. 17)

4. Innocence is worth protecting. Culture’s rushing of my children to know more and do more is motivated by money. Countless research studies show premature exposure to entertainment and activites that are fitting for mature adults increases the danger and risk to children both physically, developmentally and socially. We don’t stop the cycle because we are lazy. Period. I MUST recognize the value of innocence and take the necessary steps to guard it–even if it makes me “that” preschool mom.

5. Standards produce free children and free adults. Culture offers a seductive, but false, freedom centered in a life without boundaries. But children whose status is subject to the whims of the popular crowd, the latest trends and the size of their pocketbooks are chained to just those things. They become adults who are chained to those things raising more children chained to those things. Standards and boundaries provide a safe and secure place for my children to explore the world and become the people they were created to be–FREE of the dictates of culture and popularity.

6. Value true value. Culture establishes a false sense of value that is derived primarily from possessions. I want to base my parenting (and purchasing) decisions on what is truly valuable.

7. Knowledge is parenting power. If I am to make the best decisions and open the most opportunities for my gifts, I have to take the time to evaluate. Going with the cultural flow (even at preschool) is the easy way out, certainly the path of least resistance. When I make the effort to know what is out there, to measure it against my standards, to pause before saying yes, to make an informed decision, my choices have meaning and power.

8. Family trumps friendship. That’s not to say that friendship isn’t important. It is very valuable. But, I don’t want 4-year-old or 6th-grade or even 11th-grade friendships to be the basis of my child’s view of the world. Despite what culture may have us believe, families (not peer groups) are the building blocks of society and the primary means of nurturing and growing productive and principled adults. Family time is vital, and it’s ok to say “no” to protect it.

A few passages of Bringing Up Geeks I’ll be reading again:

1. Rules for Surfing the Net (page 75-76 & 78)

2. Essential Media Literacy concepts from the Center for Media Literacy (page 80-81)

3. Tips for fostering play and hobbies (page 105-109)

4. Guidelines for electronic games (page 109-112)

5. Encouraging Modesty in Dress (page 165-169)

6. Elements of Good Character (page 263-265)

7. Basic “tenets” of “moralistic therapeutic deism” (page 282-283) – yikes!

8. Letter to Katie (page 290-291)

9. Chapter One — just a good reality check!

One final note before I move on to other reading selections: A special thank you to Marybeth Hicks for giving me a copy of her book to review and for her willingness to communicate with me directly rather than through a media rep. It’s been a pleasure!

Stay tuned in the coming weeks as MeMyBook&Eye shifts focus to living by the numbers with 10-10-10 by Suzy Welch!

Filed under Family + Motherhood, MeMyBook&Eye, Reading + Writing | Comment (0)

Monday MeMyBook&Eye: Geeks are Weird

August 3rd, 2009

I had to chuckle and shake off vivid memories as I read Geek Principles #3 & 4 in Bringing Up Geeks this weekend. Some of the experiences and thoughts Marybeth Hicks shared in her chapters on “Raising an Uncommon Kid” and “Raising a Kid Adults Like” reminded me of some of the commitments my own parents made when I was growing up. Most of their theories, however, didn’t come from reading the advice of others. It came from how they, themselves, were raised and from their own values and preferences. That type of demonstration is the chief lesson I gleaned from this portion of the book.

“Raising an Uncommon Kid” begins with a simple reality: “Some people think being different is weird.” (pg 90) I’ll say! I was raised as an uncommon child, and I realize that it never bothered me much. I never felt I was slighted in the things that mattered. I remember my childhood as a very blessed and happy one–but one that was uncommon. I never had an Atari game. I didn’t watch most of the popular sit-coms of the day because my Dad thought they were silly and unentertaining. I remember watching the 5:30pm national news and the 6:00pm local news. I never had posters of Shawn Cassidy hanging in my room. I got a balance beam for Christmas one year. I spent my weekends at my grandparents farm playing with puppies and cows rather than going to the movies or hanging out in the McDonald’s parking lot. I watched Lawrence Welk and Austin City Limits on PBS with my family on Saturday night. Yep, I was weird. But, the more I think about it, the more I want to enstill that same weirdness in my own children.

Both of these chapters underscore again the need to be vigilant in how we deal with culture’s influence in our lives as well as the need to establish high expectations for our children. “Raising an Uncommon Kid” highlights the importance of encouraging our gifts to pursue their individual interests, rejecting the pull of materialism and consumerism that so often govern choices today. I believe these values also set the stage for “Raising a Kid Adults Like.” Children who have learned the value of and cultivated the freedom to pursue their own interests are just more interesting. They’ve been shielded from the overindulgence and media-savvy behavior that often promotes disrespect and poor attitudes. Uncommon kids have often learned the courtesies and skills that make adults like to be around them.

The subject of freedom is a seductive one. So often kids (and adults) equate freedom with getting to do whatever they want, regardless of the consequences to themselves, their families or others. Freedom in that regard often produces nothing more than bondage. Marybeth points out that in today’s “culture of cool,” children are subject to the whims of popularity. Now more than ever before, consumerism and selfish narcism are rampant in children (not just teens). Once again, they’ve taken their cues from the adults in their lives. They value what we value–which so often is nothing of real value. Making parenting–and purchasing– decisions for uncommon children, however, gives them the freedom to explore their own interests, their own styles, their own means of self-expression, truly free from the dictates of what company has the most advertising dollars or the coveted demographic market share or the ever-changing “it” people, places and things.

This whole discussion brings to the surface the importance of knowing what true value is and where we find it. With my children, I need to help them establish a core understanding that their worth and value as people does not rest in what they own or even what they do. It must rest in something more concrete and unchanging. I believe it rests in our status as a wholly loved, immaculately designed creation of the God of the universe. That sort of helps to put the value of self, others and possessions in their proper places.

One of the most poignant concepts presented in these two chapters is the idea of materialism and how insidious its influence can be. Marybeth quoted Madeline Levine, saying that materialism at its core shows “how easy it can be to choose the simple seduction of objects over true complex substance of relationships.” (pg 95)

As so often is the case, manipulation breeds manipulation. I look around and easily realize that the manipulation of media and culture toward materialism leads people to manipulate others. The desire for things, the quest to fit in often leads to children manipulating parents in the form of begging, whining, etc. It leads to the manipulation of others by encouraging children to arbitrarily and inconsistently bestow favor (or disfavor) on others based on constantly moving benchmarks.

“Raising a Kid Adults Like” reminded me again of the importance of manners and courteous, respectful behavior. Likewise, it underscored the reality that if we have low expectations of our kids, they will most certainly meet them. The fact is that respect and kindness are learned, and therefore trained. As I tell my boys, you can always choose to be kind or respectful. (Ahem. Adults, listen to this next sentence.) It is not dependent on circumstances. Although I’d love to live in a world where truly appearances and the seemingly superficial manner of speech is unimportant, it’s not the way of this world. We live in this world, and this world often gathers a first impression by the good manners (or lack of) a person exhibits.

Bringing Up Geeks continues to remind me of the need to live out values before my children, to reject the notion of culture as the master and to take concrete steps to control its influence. With practical advice that can be used on a day-to-day basis, it is quickly becoming a manual for uncommon parenting in a much-hyped, but common, culture.

Geek Episode #2
Geek Episode #1