Help Baby Jesus

Tags

Barack Obama, parenting, religious fanatics, teabaggers, the Insane Right

You may or may not know, so let me echo the announcement this morning.

Time has designated Barack H. Obama as their “Person of the Year”. . . . again.

He is one of the few who have been named twice.

I can only imagine the gnashing of teeth, the beating of dogs, the broken furniture, and the howling at the moon that is going across America among the insane Right. The great enemy of mankind, the anti-Christ, the destroyer of America has yet again duped the world. Not only did he manage to pull off an extraordinary re-election coup by fraud and deceit, but the editors of Time bought it!

With the tragedy at Newtown, no doubt he will soon remove the 2nd Amendment  from the Constitution, erasing it from the very parchment. He has done this with his dictatorial secret powers, and all will soon be lost, as America becomes the cornerstone alone with the EU of the new WORLD ORDER.

If you hadn’t noticed, guns sales are skyrocketing as smart survivalists grab up the last of the high-power weaponry before it is banned. Ammo sales are following in lockstep, as the preppers spend their last thousands tricking out that arsenal that will be their salvation when  Armageddon descends upon the quaint towns and countryside of the beloved Republic. Camouflage is the new color of the season.

If it weren’t close to being absolutely accurate, I would laugh. But frankly it’s beginning to send a shiver down my spine. As the world continues to fail to see the obvious danger and insanity of the Black Guy in the White House, the fringe element becomes more frantic in its claims and assurance that the vast majority of citizens are unable to comprehend what to them is blatantly obvious. And they are going to have to save us from ourselves.

That is the part that scares me. If they would all just go hunker down in the wilds of Wyoming or North Dakota, I guess I would be fine. But they lurk in the most normal places. I don’t mind at all those folks who go “off the grid” and live primitively in the outback of Alaska. That is fine with me. They do no harm there except to the critters they kill to eat. It is sad that they inculcate this madness into their kids, some of which will carry on the tradition. But it is no worse than those crazies from the Westboro Baptist Church and what they are teaching their kids.

Funny isn’t it, or sad, really. We would be aghast at the suggestion that there should be any rules of the road when it comes to birthing children and raising them any old way, save outright physical torture. We would not even let the idea cross our minds let alone be the topic of conversation. We freely allow people to raise their children with boatloads of hatred and revulsion at all sorts of people, places and things. In doing so, we perpetuate for another generation a fringe element of insanely crazy ideologically driven nuts.

And so the world turns.

If our children are so damn precious, and I believe they are, don’t they deserve to be raised by competent people? I don’t mean the average dsyfunctionality that perhaps most of us live with. I’m talking about parents who are so twisted that they preach hate, teach fear, and prepare their children for a future that has statistically zero chance of happening.

But of course, the devil is in the details. I recognize without even spending three seconds, that HOW you would devise such a standard and enforce it would be impossible. If we can’t figure out the budget or gun laws, what chance would we have here?

None.

And frankly, I’m pretty sure we should not.

The chances of it being administered by the “wrong” people are gigantic. It would always be the wrong people by someone’s estimation. It’s a bit like the filibuster rule. Change it and we can get some things done finally, but whoa, what happens when THEY have the majority? Yeah, therein lies the rub as the Bard would say.

But when I read that the Loonie Right is blaming gun-control advocates for the Newtown slaughter, because we have made schools “gun-free zones” and bright lights like Gohmert and McDonald and Perry ponder whether we should “arm our teachers”, well, I have pause to consider why we don’t have SOME standards of fitness to be a parent.

I mean, I can’t even adopt a dog without filling out an application, asking me a few psychologically directed questions.

Ya know what I mean?

Honor Thy Mother (Part II)

Tags

Autobiography, Mother, mother-daughter relationships, parenting, psychology

The threads of the end are easy to see in retrospect. Although I had tried to renegotiate our roles in my 30’s, which worked for a while, things returned to their normal position over time.

I was the “this is my daughter, she’s a lawyer” object to impress friends. I was also the one who was “not married” and would “never produce a grandchild.” Such are endured by many a young woman, and I place no especial emphasis on them as harbingers of some future face off.

But the beginnings of the end started when I converted to the Catholic church. Since my parents were never ones to “talk” about the past, I had no idea whether I had ever been baptised. I assumed not, but it was made clear that I needed to know.

I called Mother to confirm that such was not the case. In a strange prescient moment, she responded, “well just don’t end up being a nun or something.” I laughed, assured her that nothing was further from my mind and soon joined the ranks of the newly baptised at the age of 43. It was several months later when I felt the call of the convent.

In a conversation some months after that when I was beginning that process, I mentioned that, ironically, in fact I had decided to join a religious community. Her reaction was short, sullen and non-communicative. In later years I asked her why she was so unpleasant about that choice, and her only response was the “way I had announced it.” I still have no clue what that was about.

What followed were another couple of instances of intense criticism, unwarranted and in the end, simply glossed over by her as if they had not occurred. Such was her way. She would blow up over some perceived insult, only to find in a day or two that she was wrong, and yet she never could make the call and say she was sorry for her outburst of anger, so misdirected. She even at one point claimed that I could not at my age enter a religious community, per some unknown “friend.” I learned as always, it was simply best to not respond.

Things started to unravel rather quickly after I decided that I in fact was not called to such service. I had met and fallen in love with a man from Connecticut. I called to tell her that I would be moving to that state and that I had cancelled plans to join the Dominicans. Her response was bizarre to say the least.

She was purely ecstatic. She was thrilled beyond words. She did not ask his occupation, his previous marital history, whether he had kids, his age, ethnicity, or anything whatsoever. It didn’t matter. I was finally “attached” to a man. I had of course been “attached” to several men over the years, but somehow this one mattered, since it saved me from the church, which apparently was important.

I was appalled frankly at her lack of concern about any particulars. I told her I would call when I arrived in Connecticut, and I did so. But the more I thought, the more this all seemed so exceedingly crazy that it required more thought.

What was this relationship? Clearly there was no interest in my happiness, or even safety. There was only one issue: was I living a life that met with her approval–which validated her own perhaps? It was never explained and I was unable to see any mothering or indeed any relationship whatsoever to preserve.

Since, as those of you who have read through the pertinent sections of the autobiography already know, the relationship was over before I arrived in Connecticut, I was loathe to explain this event. I could not bear, given my fragile state of mind, what might ensue should I admit that the hoped for marriage would not be occurring. Somehow it would all be my fault of course, and since I felt no responsibility for the demise of said relationship, I was not ready to withstand the torrent of blame that would come.

So I lied, or more to the point, didn’t bring it up during those couple of conversations that were initiated in the early months of my life on the east coast.

But as I said, as I pondered this thing called a mother-daughter relationship, I saw nothing to preserve, and out of sheer avoidance, the next time she called, I didn’t pick up. The next time, I avoided it as well. She was never good at even the easiest of technological innovations, so she never left messages on the answering service. I became simply “never there” when she called.

It  became easier, and easier, and more difficult to contemplate actually explaining my “unavailability” for so many months. I decided to make it permanent. I of course later met the Contrarian and moved to Iowa. She is aware that I am now married, is thrilled, and understands that I wish no contact.

That is how it stands. As a Christian, I periodically think about it, and often decide I’m not honoring motherhood as I should. That somehow, I should stick it out, and make allowances. Yet, I cannot bring myself to open up that can of worms again. I cannot bring myself to willingly offer myself up to that “motherly criticism” offered so easily, and always without request.

I don’t feel sorry for myself. One is dealt the cards one is dealt. I wish things were other, and I wish I had the relationship I sometimes see between other mothers and daughters that I know. But I don’t dwell on my misfortune. I am not the least unaware that another woman could have handled it where I could not. The blame is partly mine.

My cousin offers the example of one who faced similar nonsense from his mother, but firmly dealt with it, without shutting the door. Grandchildren may have had something to do with that decision, and I would probably have not made the drastic decision I did had there been children involved.

Still, I return to the decision, as I said, from time to time, and I only ask for God’s forgiveness, for I feel sure that I’ve not done the right thing. But I also feel I did the only thing for myself. I feel at peace with my decision. I simply refused to be part of a toxic relationship.

It is a fine line between honoring parents and honoring self.  I hope others are not called to make such a choice as I, yet,  I have now a measure of self-respect, pride, and strength that I had not before. That soothes me in the those moments of doubt. I have been, to that degree authentic to my self.

Honor Thy Mother

Tags

Autobiography, conditional love, mothers and daughters, parenting, psychology, relationships

Mother-daughter relationships are some of the more complicated ones we have. As I mulled over the idea of writing this, I seemed always to devolve into a “defense” of my position. Nothing would delight me more than than you agree that I made the right decision. I want sympathy, not coherent criticism.

Yet, I instinctively know that I don’t really want that at all. I don’t want it to be a her side, my side kind of thing. I want to explain myself, and express my continuing questions about whether I’ve made the right decision. How does this all square with my faith?

So, I shall begin. If I can say it all in one post, I cannot yet say. It will take as long as it takes. I will try to be honest.

I’m not sure when I realized that my relationship with Mother was dysfunctional, and not the norm. I certainly didn’t feel that way as a young girl still living at home. My mother was no better nor worse than most of the other mothers I encountered. Let me state clearly, I was not physically abused unless you think that the average spanking and a couple of slaps here and there are abuse. I did not consider them as such.

My parents had similar parenting styles, learned no doubt from their own experiences as children. Both were clearly (knowing what I know of their upbringing) the victims of conditional love. And so they practiced it as the only kind they knew.

Without delving into specific instances, I can only relate that there is nothing quite so exquisitely painful as entering a house and being met with a cold stare, a turned back, and one word responses. Your mood falls, your stomach clenches, and you wait in silent emotional agony, as you search your mind trying to figure out what you have done wrong now.

The game that ensued usually only took minutes to play out and become the lecturing, demeaning diatribe of how incompetent you were, yet one was draw to the flame much as the proverbial moth. I never learned to simply go to my room and wait it out. For in truth, that would never work, you never got off the hook that way.

I had no siblings to be comforted by. I had no idea that this behavior was emotional blackmail. I assumed it normal. On the up side, along with being siblingless, I learned to be rather independent, a good quality to acquire.

What I mean by emotional blackmail, is that the indictment eventually came to the following questions: Was I incredibly stupid? Had I no common sense? Was I so selfish and self-centered? And then followed the comparisons with the ethereal “other people’s kids” who didn’t exhibit all these awful qualities. I was an embarrassment, an unnatural burden (chubby, braces, glasses–a wonderfully self-esteem trifecta to begin with!).

I was smart at books, and stupid at life. So it went.

But, again, I must point out, that I did not overall feel abused in any way. I thought it normal. But, you can understand why I was happy to graduate from living at home to having my own life.

Somewhere, as an adult, I started meeting women professionally who had quite different relationships with their mothers; and I could witness, sometimes,  a mature mother-daughter relationship. You mean you call your mother every day? I had to steel myself to call once every three months!

As I entered my 30’s and then 40’s, I began to resent this upsetting in my life. Why should I have to endure such periodic rejection. There was never an apology. I should point out that my father did exactly the same thing and when I lived with him in his last months, I was subjected more than once  to the same childhood agonies, and I admit I never outgrew the queasy stomach that ensued.

Still, I let the relationship limp along, getting through somehow, and breathing a sigh of relief once the dutiful call had been made and I was free from all this for another quarter year. Yet, the insanity of it all, seemed to escalate in some sense, and my patience and endurance grew weak.

A number of incidents seemed to coalesce into a condemnatory document in my mind that in the end, I could not ignore. I determined to end this circus of a relationship, this unhealthy misery inducing thing that was Mother and me.

Tomorrow I’ll explain what happened. You may in fact wish to hold off comment until I’ve finished.

Where to Draw the Line

Tags

child abuse, children, church, faith, parenting, religion

Last week, I called Atheist Revolution to task for suggesting that fundamentalism was somehow more rational and cohesive a theology than more progressive mainstream religious thinking.

I suggested that the author meant to “get the goat” of believers rather than honestly suggest such a ludicrous theory, or that he was utterly uninformed. As anyone knows who is not a fundamentalist of any religion, such mindsets and worldviews are anything BUT rational and fact based.

Another post by the same author has yet again rung so untrue that it got me to thinking about the subject in general. Basically, he suggests that parental insistence that children attend religious services against their will is tantamount to child abuse. And he points to his own experience as evidence. Again, I submit something else is at work.

While I’ve suggested that forcing fundamentalism upon a child can be child abuse (a significant portion of said indoctrinees become atheists when they enter the real world, and or are significantly deficient in science learning, putting them far behind in college), it is hard for me to realize how simply imposing a requirement of church attendance without more, can damage a child.

Here is my reasoning. Let’s say that parents A require child B to attend Sunday services. Now, as the child ages, certainly most rebel against this. But the rebellion has little to do with a professed adherence to atheism. The rebellion is the general rebellion common to all kids who are seeking independence. The child doesn’t rebel against God so much as he’d rather be with friends playing basketball. His priorities are different!

For those small numbers of kids who have at an early age developed a rational intellectual argument against the concept of a deity, I don’t think harm is the result. Rather, this rational child sees the whole process as primitive and outmoded. He argues with parents and others who will listen that there are better  and more rational answers to unknowables than a God. He is bemused certainly by the religiosity of others, and perhaps angry at his time being usurped in this manner, but a couple of hours a week can be “lived” with.

 I cannot for the life of me, find where some deep psychological harm would emanate from. Atheism prides itself on being coldly rational, an intellectual tour de force if you will. Religion to them, is cultish and ritual mumbo jumbo, hardly the stuff to torture the mind of a rational atheist.

So, I submit that the writer has other issues, perhaps ones that he has misunderstood as resulting from forced church attendance. (No doubt there are cultic forms of religion that practice harmful rituals, such as sacrifice of animals and such, that can be harmful, but these I submit are so minor as to be outside the norm of our discussion.)

Still, an important issue is raised. If it is right and proper for parents to require church attendance of their children, how much and for how long comes to mind. I have an opinion on this, but it is one born of what common sense tells me. It is the result of my life experiences either witnessed or read about. So, I’m interested in what tack others feel is appropriate or not.

My thinking is that family church attendance serves other purposes than the instillation of religious belief. Feelings of security, reliability, love, responsibility and such are served by making this a family affair. Modeling of intact family units, sharing, cooperation, and other attributes are offered by the family itself and by other congregationalists.

Up to a certain age, children have not the ability to rationally decide for themselves what is valuable and what not. But, age does play a significant factor. Age, and maturity. I would tend to place the cut off at 14. Here, children have had significant experiences of their own, they know what they believe or don’t (at least for the moment), and they have had a time to sift through the information offered in church settings.

If a child, at 14 (presumably an age when parents feel comfortable leaving a youngster alone for a few hours at home), decides that church is not for him, then I think it appropriate to allow him/her to stop. The inculcation of other values can still be imposed through family “time” on Sunday for an appropriate number of hours. After discussion, there may be “independent” study requirements to learn of other faith traditions or none to help the child sort out their true feelings and beliefs.

I would agree that forcing a child to not only attend services past a certain age, but also to participate in numerous other church related groups and practices is not appropriate and counter productive. This I do  think turns off kids, and creates either out right atheists or at least secular Christians (those I define as professing a belief in God, but a distrust of organized religion).

Anyway, that’s my take on the subject. It’s a thorny one, no doubt, and people on all sides tend to be assertive of their belief and protective of their position.  Can we talk to each other rather than across each other? What say you?

Wearing My Alien-Proof Perfume

Tags

children, creationists, education, homeschooling, Kahil Gibran, parenting

Most of you know that I am transported from time to time into other universes. This is never with my consent, but I’ve grown to accept it. My brain cannot process certain insanities on planet Earth, and so it probably is a good thing.

Last night, I awoke from dear slumber, realizing that for sure, the axis of the earth had tilted just a smidgen quite suddenly. The reason?

Why, McDonald’s has closed its doors in Iceland. Indeed, a near panic has ensued as frantic Icelandicers, or Icelandics? rush to get their last fix. So goes America’s best hope of supersizing  the rest of the world to it’s obesity level. It is a government plan put in play to prove what we all know already, America is exceptional, and fat drives it!

It seems impossible to conceive that McDonalds could suffer such a set back. I mean, let the banks close, let the hospitals overflow, let the fields run empty of potatoes, but good God,  how can humanity continue with any human not within ten minutes of a Ronald Mickey D? The sheer inhumanity of the thing is enough to make one choke with tears.

I figured that from that, everything else would go downhill. And it seemed to. The other day, I was reading the remarks of a creationist, who so happily and proudly proclaimed that she had used a particular creation site to extensive use during her homeschooling days. Does this mean that there are zero requirements for homeschooling to get that diploma?

I mean, do ya just call the state education department, and say, “send me one of dem diplomas. I’s ejucated nows?” Are there no standards of any kind? Or is this part of the great lie that creationist parents put their kids through? Here’s what you need to say to get the grade, but pssst, we don’t believe any of that is true. Is this not child abuse?

I can point to any number of people today who were told such lies as kids. Most all of them have since rejected their parents theology, in favor of none, sad to say. And they of course now know better about science as well. I find it sad, and it makes me mad. We are something like 31 in the world now in science and math, and we can thank in some part such intellectually bankrupt parents who have driven their kids into a scienceless world all in the name of feeling good emotionally. Shame on them. Believe what you want, but you’re kids–they are not property to be used as your emotional crutch.

I think this sums things up rather well.

Your children are not your children,

They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself.

They come through you but not from you.

You may give them your love but not your thoughts.

For they have their own thoughts.

You may house their bodies but not their souls,

For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,

which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.

you may strive to like them, but seek not to make them like you.

For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.

You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.

The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite,

and He bends you with His might

that His arrows may go swift and far.

Let your bending in the archer’s hand be for gladness;

For even as He loves the arrow that flies,

so He loves the bow that is stable.

                                       Kahil Gibran

I guess I come down on the side that parents have a duty to teach their kids morals and ethics, and how to use their minds with discriminating care. We need kids who can think critically and separate the chaff from the wheat. We don’t need to teach them what to think so much as how to think. Then we need to expose them to as varied a world as possible, and to as much varied thought as possible. It is up to them, in communion with their conscience and/or God to decide what to make of it all.

Humans are incredibly resilient. We, most of us that is, turn out okay, even against rather heavy odds against us. That doesn’t mean and shouldn’t mean that parenting is largely not important. It is. And we have become complacent to the fact that most of us turn out okay, and so nothing need watch over the parenting that goes on. But surely, we owe our kids more than to be raised as automatons of ideologically locked down humans. We owe them the true freedom of thought unhindered by psychologically driven mindsets essential to the parent, but not necessarily needed by the child.

Why we have never felt the need for parenting classes as the norm is beyond me. The wreckage of relationships is all around for the viewing. Can’t we do better than this? Are we going to live forever in the land where parent/child relationships are so sacrosanct as to be untouchable absent physical abuse? Do we not care that emotional and educational abuse are rampant in many of our homes? Is there not a better way?

I’m Not Euphoric for Aphorisms

Tags

daughters, mothers, parenting, psychology

Whenever I come upon an aphorism, I sigh, because it’s just more work. I know, you ask, why so? Well, it’s that they are so darned seductive, they sound so right, so good, and it’s so easy to just adopt them and use them as fact.

But alas, they are used for just that very purpose. They are conniving in their attempt to lull you into complacency, begging you to search no deeper for truth.

And that’s what you must avoid. That is unless you are of the lazy mind variety. And of course you aren’t like that.

This is not a blog I care to write about, since mother-daughter relationships are certainly not my speciality nor my interest at all. I have my peace with life as it is, and seek no angst driven conversation the point of which is to make me feel “okay.”

It is what it is.

Okay, more background. I came to me last night as we were watching Brothers and Sisters. Nora, mother of the brood (Sally Fields) is trying to convince her son that she in fact, has full confidence in his ability to get through law school. She says some things, and then erupts. “God I sounded just like my mother. I said I would NEVER be like my mother, and I guess I am.”

She is wretched, and her son assures her she is nothing like Grandma. I realized that we are never neutral when it comes to that question. Either as we are thrilled to be compared to our mothers or fathers (sex to sex), or we are appalled at the mere suggestion. Nobody says, “I’m okay if I turn out like Dad, and okay if I don’t.”

That seems because we have clear opinions on the relative parenting skills of our parents and want to emulate or do the exact opposite.

There seems to be an aphorism that any person you don’t like tends to mirror things about yourself you don’t like. Nobody likes to hear that. And everybody worries and talks about channeling the person sometimes. “I just heard Mother come right from my own lips!”

I’m not sure the aphorism is true. Psychologists probably say it is. It may mean that people you don’t admire are people who show you characteristics you particularly look to avoid in your own behavior and personality. Perhaps you “fear” acting like them, but I’m not sure that you actually end up being like them.

I saw good mother-daughter relationships as I grew up. So I can tell when one is good. Unlike marriage. In most all of my adult life I never saw a marriage I considered “good.” Tolerable? Perhaps, but not good. Of course another aphorism is that you can never “judge another marriage from the outside,” and this one is quite likely true. Nobody knows but the two people what it is really like.

But you can tell one you don’t like. It of course, doesn’t mean the marriage is bad, only that it would be bad for you to have one like it. The parties themselves may be quite happy with each other.

Some folks think that having a bad or non-existent relationship with a parent is sad or miserable. I can say, from my vantage, that it is not. It is fact. Period. I don’t actually attribute a lot of fault. Parenting is not a given. It is learned behavior and if one hasn’t had a good teacher, one undoubtedly won’t do a good job, except by chance, and real commitment. Most people take being parents pretty much for granted, unfortunately.

And frankly, that’s  not the worst position to take, since most children are fairly resilient and most can withstand general dysfunction. Plenty of kids survive rather rough parenting in terms of physical abuse. I didn’t have that, and would categorize my family as simply adept at getting their way by manipulating other’s emotions.

This is never a good idea, but adults are fair game. Children don’t have the experience to defend themselves, and end up with self-esteem problems at minimum.

Psychologists of course claim that the worst thing to do is to disengage. They think this fails to resolve issues. Recently on GMA, Peg Streep talked about this and her book Mean Mothers. She too made a permanent break with her mother.

No doubt those who have excellent relationships with parents are aghast at such choices. They must find such a decision tragic from their point of view. From the point of view of the person who ends such a “relationship,” there is little to do except to put a dying horse out of it’s misery.

For there is seldom, I think, reason to think that such relations can be salvaged. They can never be “good” in any real sense. They can only become “accommodating” in which each side has had the chance to air it’s anger and resentment. Some of the worst things may change, but it will forever more be a forced kind of thing.

I’d rather have the “good” relationship rather than a limping along type. Same for marriage. Most marriages are “okay” but I’d have rather done without than settled for that. I was lucky in that one. I found a prize among men. My marriage is by most standards excellent, though we of the excellent category know how much effort is involved in keeping it so.

I just can’t seem to raise the necessary energy to “keeping it so” to a relationship, that in the end, will only be tolerable.

Just sayin’.

Dirt is Good

Tags

child safety, ethics, honesty, morals, parenting, psychology, religion, sociology

One of  the Contrarian’s   aunts was often heard to say, that “you gotta eat a peck of dirt before you die.”

While that may or may not be exactly true, it’s close to the mark I think. We are becoming a people who over-obsesses (can you over obsess?) about cleanliness and germs.

That’s perhaps a dumb remark given the flu epidemic and the fact that I am taking wipes to church and dunking my host these days, but let us continue.

This goes hand in hand with our obsession to keep our kids safe, against dangers real or imagined. This came to my attention when a woman in NYC was roundly accused of being “the worst mom in America” because she sent her seven year old off on the subway alone.

At least so America weighed in. Yet the woman in question says her son rides the subway regularly with her, is mature, wanted to go alone, and was sent with appropriate money and instructions. Now I’m not about to declare whether she is right or wrong. Not being a parent, I hesitate to try to place myself in that situation.

Yet that story was preceded by one in which a woman had developed “gloves” for kids to put on when entering public bathrooms where they might touch germy toilet seats. The reporter suggested that this, along with oodles of other “safety” items now available to parents was getting a bit “over the top.”

Some of this is I guess understandable in a post 9/11 world. Some of it is understandable in an urban versus suburban/rural world. Some of it is understandable in a information overload which tends to focus on the sensational murder/abduction case ad nauseum because they have to fill time. Plenty of women kill their husbands and plenty of men kill their wives. Most don’t make the national news unless there is some mystery to hang a story on.

But are we adults becoming paranoid to the point that we are teaching our youngsters to be fearful, reticent, and down right withdrawn from the world? Are we in fact encouraging the Internet junkie and computer game addiction in the name of “knowing where the kids are?”

I recall that as even a young child, I had a lot of time unsupervised. From the time I could ride a bike, I could pretty much travel on the dirt roads which gave me a 1 x 1/2 mile area to wander in. It was easily by age eight or nine that we were crossing the four-lane highway to get a loaf of bread or McDonalds (yes they had them way back then, but they were 15cents a burger!). My time to come home was when the “street lights” came on. (I was forever getting in trouble, since they came on not all at once but in a rotation, and the one on our corner obviously came on before the one where I was at did.)

The Contrarian is of the opinion that there was a lot less asthma and allergy illness when kids were allowed to be kids, i.e., wallow in dirt all day long, and wash most of it off before bed. Farm kids, who come in contact with the poop of many a critter besides dogs, seem to be the healthiest of all.

Now we have wipes handy in car and kitchen, ready to clean up that face and hands. Hey, who hasn’t tasted dirt? And a number of kids actually ate it. The grit still makes me shiver, like nails on a chalk board.

So I ask you, are we raising a generation of fraidy cats with compulsive hand washing obsessions? I dunno. Just askin’ the question.

On another and far distant note, I ponder the following. Several people, somewhere in the US have a bank that mistakenly credited their accounts with about a quarter million bucks. A woman, so blessed, notified the bank of the mistake. So far, Americans across the country have sent her nearly $2000 in “reward” for her honesty.

This is nothing new of course, but is now routinely done for anybody who does the right thing. And I wonder, why exactly is that? Aren’t we supposed to be honest? Isn’t that the norm?

Some religious do believe that morality can only come through religion, but that is bunk. There are perfectly logical reasons why non-believers conclude that honesty is the “best policy.” Its rational to be honest. Rational because dishonesty has unpleasant consequences first of all. Moreover, and one would hope more compellingly, empathy draws us to honesty. We can easily put ourself in another’s place and feel how we would feel should they suffer a loss due to thievery, or mistake or negligence on their part. We realize how someone might suffer by our unexpected opportunity.

If we start gifting the honest person, then we tarnish their honesty. We turn it into a compromise, wanting to keep it, figuring you might get caught, and the hope that you’ll get a sizable “reward” for being good. The altruism is ruined and we are poorer for it. So I say, don’t reward what is expected of every human being. It sends the wrong message.

A little creativity can be used. There are usually plenty of good reasons to “reward” anyone. Find one that doesn’t pat them on the head for doing what they should.

End of lecture for today. There will be a test. I’ll reward those who study hard. Oops, that would be reward for doing what is right. I could reward you for reading this, but then, that is also the right thing to do. At least in my world of what’s morally right!