Simplicity is “in” these days, at least in theory. In homes and offices, the word beckons from walls and knick-knacks urging us to “simplify.”
I’ve write often about simplifying. It’s an illusive goal, not easily achieved in our world of materialism and multitasking. We try to reduce, reuse and recycle, then head to Wal Mart to buy stuff to organize our stuff.
Despite an overwhelming number of failures, I achieved a small victory in simplifying this summer without even trying.
I became a farmer – an urban farmer. Inspired by my endlessly talented friend Becky and her handy hubby Leo, they helped us turn a previously useless hill in our backyard into our own little 8 X 14 farmer’s market.
People used to garden to produce the food they needed to survive. Now we don’t have time to garden – we’re too busy working to buy the food we need to survive.
This weekend, as we harvested our last bounty, I was reminded of the simple thrills this little patch of dirt created for our family.
The first thrill was watching our seeds sprout in the warmth of our sunniest room while snow and wind held us captive all spring. We cheered the day an infant tomato reached the roof of its mini greenhouse.
Planting was the second big thrill. I spent an entire evening kneeling beside my daughter and sprinkling seeds in the dirt. Neither of us knew what we were doing, but that didn’t matter.
A few weeks later, lettuce emerged and generated our third big thrill. We proudly shared this with grandparents and neighbors, multiplying these thrills exponentially. The kids delivered bags of fresh green leaves as if they were gold.
Yellow blossoms on tomatoes, cucumbers, peas and watermelon generated more thrills. The fact that those plain little flowers transform into big tasty vegetables is a rather impossible proposition. Our kids didn’t believe it would happen.
So when it did, and cute cucumbers, tiny tomatoes and mini watermelon appeared, we were thrilled again. For the rest of the summer, we savored the fruits of this garden. My son and I hid from the others to share the first perfectly ripe tomato. “Mom, can I go pick peas,” our four year old often asked, as hopefully as if he were angling for a new toy.
As we walked to the garden to clean it out for winter this weekend, I was sad. The limp, frost-bit plants boasted fruit that didn’t have time to ripen. I wanted to be depressed about the long winter that stood firmly between our next growing season, but that little garden would not allow it.
It thrilled us all afternoon. Seeing brilliant orange carrots surface among shovels of black dirt was like finding hidden treasures. Capturing dozens of ladybugs who were feasting on remaining cucumber leaves entertained the kids for hours.
And clean-up complete, the kids lingered long in the garden digging holes and moving dirt without a toy in site.
Our first garden was a great experiment in science, problem solving and innovation. We undertook gardening to generate good food for our family, which it did.
But its greatest bounty was the countless opportunities (and excuses) it gave us to hang out together, be outside, and slowdown enough to marvel at the wonders of our world.
That’s simplicity at its best.
Monday, October 19, 2009
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
No Time To Spare
I stood at a fax machine recently chatting with a co-worker about how passé the once revolutionary machine has become. In the era of scanning, emailing and electronic signatures, fax machines sit largely idle, collecting dust beside Dictaphones and overhead projectors.
When I entered the workforce, faxing was cutting edge technology and email was an infant. So I don’t have any frame of reference for what the workplace was like without the ability -- and expectation -- to instantly exchange information.
I enjoy trying to imagine that world and the conversations in it. “OK Bob. I’ll look for your draft to arrive in a few days. You should have my edits back in a week.” These pleasant daydreams are usually interrupted by a vibrating phone urgently alerting me to something very trivial that needs my immediate attention.
It’s hard to imagine the pace of life getting any faster or people trying to cram more into our maxed out minutes. Instant messaging, ready-made meals, one-hour processing, overnight delivery, same-day service. The list alone makes me anxious.
Nearly every driver on the road is also talking, texting or checking email on their phone, sometimes while eating breakfast and putting on makeup.
Technology has also blurred the lines between work, play and home life. This can be a great blessing, but has its challenges. The other day I caught myself having a serious conversation with a reporter while decorating for my child’s birthday party. I did my best to disguise my breathlessness while lugging a heavy cooler up and down our stairs.
So goes the imperfect juggling act we call life. We can use every high-tech trick and device, and somehow remain perpetually behind. Between email, cell phone, facebook, blogs, voicemail, twitter, and texting I could spend a whole day with my child and never complete a real conversation.
So what’s the point? I can daydream for hours about life before computers but technology has forever changed the way we live and interact. It pervades every aspect of our lives.
The problem is, the time savers don’t live up to their claims. My Blackberry might have more memory than my own brain and a few more applications too, but it can’t give me what I want the most. More time.
Ultimately, only I can do that, by judiciously drawing boundaries and determining which balls in my juggling act can fall and which ones are just too precious to break.
When I entered the workforce, faxing was cutting edge technology and email was an infant. So I don’t have any frame of reference for what the workplace was like without the ability -- and expectation -- to instantly exchange information.
I enjoy trying to imagine that world and the conversations in it. “OK Bob. I’ll look for your draft to arrive in a few days. You should have my edits back in a week.” These pleasant daydreams are usually interrupted by a vibrating phone urgently alerting me to something very trivial that needs my immediate attention.
It’s hard to imagine the pace of life getting any faster or people trying to cram more into our maxed out minutes. Instant messaging, ready-made meals, one-hour processing, overnight delivery, same-day service. The list alone makes me anxious.
Nearly every driver on the road is also talking, texting or checking email on their phone, sometimes while eating breakfast and putting on makeup.
Technology has also blurred the lines between work, play and home life. This can be a great blessing, but has its challenges. The other day I caught myself having a serious conversation with a reporter while decorating for my child’s birthday party. I did my best to disguise my breathlessness while lugging a heavy cooler up and down our stairs.
So goes the imperfect juggling act we call life. We can use every high-tech trick and device, and somehow remain perpetually behind. Between email, cell phone, facebook, blogs, voicemail, twitter, and texting I could spend a whole day with my child and never complete a real conversation.
So what’s the point? I can daydream for hours about life before computers but technology has forever changed the way we live and interact. It pervades every aspect of our lives.
The problem is, the time savers don’t live up to their claims. My Blackberry might have more memory than my own brain and a few more applications too, but it can’t give me what I want the most. More time.
Ultimately, only I can do that, by judiciously drawing boundaries and determining which balls in my juggling act can fall and which ones are just too precious to break.
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
A Case for Conservatism
For much of his presidency, George Bush was called just about every dirty name possible, including “liar” by Sen. Harry Reid.
We didn’t hear righteous indignation blaring from the steps of the Capitol on the nightly news. No calls for an apology. No outcry for civility or respect.
So I find the clicking of tongues and waving fingers of shame at Rep. Joe Wilson interesting. Many of Wilson’s critics similarly complain about the health care and tea party protests, and dismiss the protestors as being rude, orchestrated, paid, or ill-informed.
Wilson’s outburst was wrong. Our President deserves more respect. But advocates of President Obama’s rapid and sweeping reforms seem unwilling to recognize one simple fact: the storms of protests are fueled not by ignorant misunderstanding but by ardent disagreement with the basic premise of these changes.
I’m among the conservatives who disagree with much of President Obama’s agenda, not out of desire to protect the rich or the status quo. Not because I’m racist. Not because I lack compassion for the poor or disabled. Not because I’m too dumb or ill-informed to really understand the issues or because I need to be enlightened somehow by my liberal friends.
My philosophy comes after much deliberate consideration. I believe that conservative principles of limited government and a strong free enterprise system offer the surest, most sustainable road to opportunity, prosperity, and happiness for the largest number of people.
Economist Milton Friedman, who died in 2006, staunchly defended free enterprise as the best economic system ever developed by civilization. The great achievements of civilization, he said, have not come from government bureaus but by individuals pursuing their own interests.
In an interview with Phil Donahue, the famously liberal talk show host lamented the uneven distribution of wealth in the world, the desperate plight of people in undeveloped countries, the existence of so few haves and so many have nots.
Donahue’s concerns are legitimate, and most people share them. No one has a monopoly on compassion for the poor and needy.
Friedman maintained, however, that the only cases in which the masses have escaped the kind of grinding poverty Donahue described are where they have capitalism and free trade.
“The record of history is absolutely crystal clear,” Friedman said. “There is no alternative way so far discovered of improving the lot of the ordinary people that can hold a candle to the productive energies that are unleashed by a free enterprise system.”
We have already wandered far from limited government. President Obama’s policies would propel government on a growth chart that seems impossible to sustain. This poses a huge threat to the government’s funding source, our free enterprise system, which in turn will hurt, not help the poor or middle class people President Obama professes to represent.
Rather than creating a fairer more just society, these proposals will undermine the quality of life for all future Americans.
Take exception with the manner of the debate if you will. But the intensity of opposition to these proposals suggests it is change many Americans don’t believe in.
We didn’t hear righteous indignation blaring from the steps of the Capitol on the nightly news. No calls for an apology. No outcry for civility or respect.
So I find the clicking of tongues and waving fingers of shame at Rep. Joe Wilson interesting. Many of Wilson’s critics similarly complain about the health care and tea party protests, and dismiss the protestors as being rude, orchestrated, paid, or ill-informed.
Wilson’s outburst was wrong. Our President deserves more respect. But advocates of President Obama’s rapid and sweeping reforms seem unwilling to recognize one simple fact: the storms of protests are fueled not by ignorant misunderstanding but by ardent disagreement with the basic premise of these changes.
I’m among the conservatives who disagree with much of President Obama’s agenda, not out of desire to protect the rich or the status quo. Not because I’m racist. Not because I lack compassion for the poor or disabled. Not because I’m too dumb or ill-informed to really understand the issues or because I need to be enlightened somehow by my liberal friends.
My philosophy comes after much deliberate consideration. I believe that conservative principles of limited government and a strong free enterprise system offer the surest, most sustainable road to opportunity, prosperity, and happiness for the largest number of people.
Economist Milton Friedman, who died in 2006, staunchly defended free enterprise as the best economic system ever developed by civilization. The great achievements of civilization, he said, have not come from government bureaus but by individuals pursuing their own interests.
In an interview with Phil Donahue, the famously liberal talk show host lamented the uneven distribution of wealth in the world, the desperate plight of people in undeveloped countries, the existence of so few haves and so many have nots.
Donahue’s concerns are legitimate, and most people share them. No one has a monopoly on compassion for the poor and needy.
Friedman maintained, however, that the only cases in which the masses have escaped the kind of grinding poverty Donahue described are where they have capitalism and free trade.
“The record of history is absolutely crystal clear,” Friedman said. “There is no alternative way so far discovered of improving the lot of the ordinary people that can hold a candle to the productive energies that are unleashed by a free enterprise system.”
We have already wandered far from limited government. President Obama’s policies would propel government on a growth chart that seems impossible to sustain. This poses a huge threat to the government’s funding source, our free enterprise system, which in turn will hurt, not help the poor or middle class people President Obama professes to represent.
Rather than creating a fairer more just society, these proposals will undermine the quality of life for all future Americans.
Take exception with the manner of the debate if you will. But the intensity of opposition to these proposals suggests it is change many Americans don’t believe in.
Monday, August 24, 2009
Wanted: Two More Weeks of Summer
As I drove to pick up my kids from school recently, the temperature at the bank read 84 degrees.
I reflected with frustration on the weeks of crappy May and June weather that consumed probably 40 percent of our summer break. How I’d like to exchange these warm August days in school with the early June days of freezing rain.
In North Dakota, the start date of schools is a local matter, one that school boards and superintendents protect vigorously. I agree with local control and support it.
The problem with school schedules is this. Local school boards approve the schedule but the schedule is built around -- or strongly influence by -- a statewide athletic calendar (with a big emphasis on finishing football before the snow flies.) The real “control” being exercised at the local level on school start dates seems pretty minor.
A couple years ago, the Legislature narrowly rejected a measure that would have required schools to start after Labor Day. Lobbying efforts by the school superintendents, school boards and other education groups prevailed.
Local control and athletic schedules aside, there are some sensible and compelling reasons to delay the beginning of school until after Labor Day. And it can be done without threatening local control or jeopardizing the quality of education.
The first and most obvious reason is weather. August is one of the most reliably warm months of the year in North Dakota. Why do we tie our families at home and our kids back in school for two or three of the nicest weeks of the year?
By doing so, we compel a large number of summer attractions to close prematurely. Last weekend was one of the nicest of the season, but families couldn’t take a dip in any of Bismarck’s public pools. All were closed for the season.
Raging Rivers, plagued by a summer of awful water-park weather, is closed except on weekends. That attraction is missing out on a couple potentially great weeks of revenue.
Hotels and other attractions suffer as well because once school starts both employees and in-state visitors dry up. Big attractions like Medora struggle to find staff for the last few weeks of their season because students leave for school in mid August.
A Bismarck hotel owner, testifying to the Legislature on this issue, said his business dropped off 30 percent as soon as school started in August. He said continuing the summer season through Labor Day would have generated another $15,000 in sales for the year – “a meaningful amount for a small North Dakota business who is asked to pay property taxes totaling over $37,000 and a school distribution of $20,683.”
A 2006 statewide survey found that 75 percent of people who have an opinion on this issue support requiring schools to begin after Labor Day.
But a state mandate shouldn’t be necessary. Since schools collectively agree on a very similar schedule now, why can’t they collectively agree on a schedule that starts after Labor Day?
They could. They just need to hear from enough people who want them to.
Summer is short and precious in our state. A later start and finishing date for schools makes sense. It would be good for families, kids, businesses, teachers, and our economy.
And it might even be a welcome change for those poor high school football players forced to practice in full gear on the hottest days of summer.
I reflected with frustration on the weeks of crappy May and June weather that consumed probably 40 percent of our summer break. How I’d like to exchange these warm August days in school with the early June days of freezing rain.
In North Dakota, the start date of schools is a local matter, one that school boards and superintendents protect vigorously. I agree with local control and support it.
The problem with school schedules is this. Local school boards approve the schedule but the schedule is built around -- or strongly influence by -- a statewide athletic calendar (with a big emphasis on finishing football before the snow flies.) The real “control” being exercised at the local level on school start dates seems pretty minor.
A couple years ago, the Legislature narrowly rejected a measure that would have required schools to start after Labor Day. Lobbying efforts by the school superintendents, school boards and other education groups prevailed.
Local control and athletic schedules aside, there are some sensible and compelling reasons to delay the beginning of school until after Labor Day. And it can be done without threatening local control or jeopardizing the quality of education.
The first and most obvious reason is weather. August is one of the most reliably warm months of the year in North Dakota. Why do we tie our families at home and our kids back in school for two or three of the nicest weeks of the year?
By doing so, we compel a large number of summer attractions to close prematurely. Last weekend was one of the nicest of the season, but families couldn’t take a dip in any of Bismarck’s public pools. All were closed for the season.
Raging Rivers, plagued by a summer of awful water-park weather, is closed except on weekends. That attraction is missing out on a couple potentially great weeks of revenue.
Hotels and other attractions suffer as well because once school starts both employees and in-state visitors dry up. Big attractions like Medora struggle to find staff for the last few weeks of their season because students leave for school in mid August.
A Bismarck hotel owner, testifying to the Legislature on this issue, said his business dropped off 30 percent as soon as school started in August. He said continuing the summer season through Labor Day would have generated another $15,000 in sales for the year – “a meaningful amount for a small North Dakota business who is asked to pay property taxes totaling over $37,000 and a school distribution of $20,683.”
A 2006 statewide survey found that 75 percent of people who have an opinion on this issue support requiring schools to begin after Labor Day.
But a state mandate shouldn’t be necessary. Since schools collectively agree on a very similar schedule now, why can’t they collectively agree on a schedule that starts after Labor Day?
They could. They just need to hear from enough people who want them to.
Summer is short and precious in our state. A later start and finishing date for schools makes sense. It would be good for families, kids, businesses, teachers, and our economy.
And it might even be a welcome change for those poor high school football players forced to practice in full gear on the hottest days of summer.
Monday, August 10, 2009
Friends: A choice and a treasure
"A faithful friend is a sturdy shelter; he who finds one finds a treasure." Sirach 6:14
One of my oldest pals, Schultzie, is in town. We’ve been friends for 26 years, ever since we met as mullet-wearing pre-pubescent junior high kids who shared a love for playing basketball and baking Christmas cookies.
From Thanksgiving through Christmas, we baked cookies almost every day after school. This tradition caught up with us in college. We once took pictures in a mall photo booth and tried to display as many of our cookie-induced chins as possible. When the machine spit out the strip of black and whites, they revealed at least 10 between us.
We laughed for hours at those awful pictures -- just one of countless such events that triggered stupid levels of laughter. Through high school, college and beyond, Schultzie was a pretty constant companion. We covered a lot of territory in those 12 years, growing from childhood to adulthood, and accumulated a hard drive full of memories.
When we were both just 19, our parents amazingly approved of us taking a five-week trip through Europe, largely un-chaperoned.
Credit cards were not yet an international currency, so we followed the “Europe on $20 a Day” plan. We were so nervous about running out of money we ate very little and walked everywhere. (This helped eliminate some of the chins.)
In Rome I remember staring at the carts of gelato, debating whether to eat supper or indulge in dessert because both would break the budget. Sensibility won out at first. But after errantly ordering potato pizza one night, we started ignoring our motherly voices and chose instead the largest-size bowls of Italian ice cream we could afford.
Ralph Waldo Emerson, who commented a lot about friendship, said the only way to have a friend is to be one. This is not so true of sisters, brothers, or parents. All of these relationships are gifts of birth. They are a lot better with effort of course, but they last a lifetime either way.
Spouses too are different, formally bound by a legal and/or spiritual pledge.
Friendship, on the other hand, is a choice. One that can be abandoned at any moment should either party so desire. That’s why friendships are so special. They are completely optional – held together only by mutual interest and good will.
As the years pass, the likelihood of sometime living across the street, across town or even across the state from my friend Schultzie dwindles. We’ll probably always live across the country.
But that’s okay. A lifelong friend is like a favorite pair of jeans that never wear out or become too tight. Days, weeks or even years might pass, but when you pull them on they still fit comfortably -- even if you’ve eaten too many Christmas cookies.
One of my oldest pals, Schultzie, is in town. We’ve been friends for 26 years, ever since we met as mullet-wearing pre-pubescent junior high kids who shared a love for playing basketball and baking Christmas cookies.
From Thanksgiving through Christmas, we baked cookies almost every day after school. This tradition caught up with us in college. We once took pictures in a mall photo booth and tried to display as many of our cookie-induced chins as possible. When the machine spit out the strip of black and whites, they revealed at least 10 between us.
We laughed for hours at those awful pictures -- just one of countless such events that triggered stupid levels of laughter. Through high school, college and beyond, Schultzie was a pretty constant companion. We covered a lot of territory in those 12 years, growing from childhood to adulthood, and accumulated a hard drive full of memories.
When we were both just 19, our parents amazingly approved of us taking a five-week trip through Europe, largely un-chaperoned.
Credit cards were not yet an international currency, so we followed the “Europe on $20 a Day” plan. We were so nervous about running out of money we ate very little and walked everywhere. (This helped eliminate some of the chins.)
In Rome I remember staring at the carts of gelato, debating whether to eat supper or indulge in dessert because both would break the budget. Sensibility won out at first. But after errantly ordering potato pizza one night, we started ignoring our motherly voices and chose instead the largest-size bowls of Italian ice cream we could afford.
Ralph Waldo Emerson, who commented a lot about friendship, said the only way to have a friend is to be one. This is not so true of sisters, brothers, or parents. All of these relationships are gifts of birth. They are a lot better with effort of course, but they last a lifetime either way.
Spouses too are different, formally bound by a legal and/or spiritual pledge.
Friendship, on the other hand, is a choice. One that can be abandoned at any moment should either party so desire. That’s why friendships are so special. They are completely optional – held together only by mutual interest and good will.
As the years pass, the likelihood of sometime living across the street, across town or even across the state from my friend Schultzie dwindles. We’ll probably always live across the country.
But that’s okay. A lifelong friend is like a favorite pair of jeans that never wear out or become too tight. Days, weeks or even years might pass, but when you pull them on they still fit comfortably -- even if you’ve eaten too many Christmas cookies.
Monday, July 27, 2009
Surviving a Summer of Squabbles
While thousands of people were reveling at the state fair or 10,000 Lakes Festival last weekend, I was solo-parenting at a very different festival: Bickerfest 2009. This included refereeing the ever-popular sideshows Whine-o-rama, Wrestlemania and Squabblejam.
For kids, summer means freedom, fun and a lot more togetherness with siblings. As August approaches, most parents I know are growing weary of the battles.
The scenarios that trigger sibling scraps are usually too-ridiculous to repeat. My favorite exchange this weekend found my son yelling down the steps, “Quit talking to me!” To which his younger brother responded in his loudest possible voice, “No!!! You quit talking to me first.”
In the peak of frustration with Bickerfest, I retreated briefly to my computer and hastily composed an email to my family chronicling the events of my aggravating morning and my not-so-graceful ways of handling it.
Later that day, when the kids and I arrived home from some errands, a beautiful vase of miniature roses greeted me at the door. A note in my mom’s script advised, “Spread happiness in a troubled world.”
My mom was famous for keeping her cool. When my siblings were young, we lived just one block from school, so they always came home for lunch. My mom set out the food family style and left them unsupervised to serve and eat lunch while she retreated to the piano.
Chaos usually ensued, as you would expect. But my mom was in her own happy place drowning out the noise with songs and scales. To this day, she insists she was trying to teach them to share.
For me, and I believe most parents, listening to my kids fight is difficult for reasons beyond just the noise or the inherent danger of two boys in a real brawl with light sabers. Remember Madlyn Primoff, the 45-year-old Park Avenue lawyer who became a nationwide news story this spring for kicking her 12 and 10-year-old quarreling daughters out of the car and driving away?
Their bickering was annoying I’m sure, but I doubt that’s what prompted her to make good on the most widely used threat of all time. “Stop fighting or I’ll stop the car.”
Ultimately, what eats away at parents like Primoff – and me -- is the fear that we are the cause of the sibling quarrels. That our combative kids are proof that we are failing as parents. What am I doing wrong and how can I fix this, we wonder?
Parenting experts offer a wide variety of tips and tricks. We’ve heard them before, but perhaps a few are worth repeating.
• Negotiate in advance solutions and penalties for common daily battles.
• Set ground rules for fair fighting, like teaching them to fight with words, not fists.
• Use natural consequences. For example, those who demand to get the first or the most, get the last and the least.
The one point on which all the experts agree is that fighting is both normal and essential for growing up. Somehow squabbling with siblings teaches kids how to solve problems and handle conflicts as adults.
To this end, my most trusted advisor (my mom) and the books, too, strongly advise that parents let kids work out their battles themselves.
So, I guess I can retire my whistle and striped shirt. Next time my kids are fighting, you can find me at the piano.
For kids, summer means freedom, fun and a lot more togetherness with siblings. As August approaches, most parents I know are growing weary of the battles.
The scenarios that trigger sibling scraps are usually too-ridiculous to repeat. My favorite exchange this weekend found my son yelling down the steps, “Quit talking to me!” To which his younger brother responded in his loudest possible voice, “No!!! You quit talking to me first.”
In the peak of frustration with Bickerfest, I retreated briefly to my computer and hastily composed an email to my family chronicling the events of my aggravating morning and my not-so-graceful ways of handling it.
Later that day, when the kids and I arrived home from some errands, a beautiful vase of miniature roses greeted me at the door. A note in my mom’s script advised, “Spread happiness in a troubled world.”
My mom was famous for keeping her cool. When my siblings were young, we lived just one block from school, so they always came home for lunch. My mom set out the food family style and left them unsupervised to serve and eat lunch while she retreated to the piano.
Chaos usually ensued, as you would expect. But my mom was in her own happy place drowning out the noise with songs and scales. To this day, she insists she was trying to teach them to share.
For me, and I believe most parents, listening to my kids fight is difficult for reasons beyond just the noise or the inherent danger of two boys in a real brawl with light sabers. Remember Madlyn Primoff, the 45-year-old Park Avenue lawyer who became a nationwide news story this spring for kicking her 12 and 10-year-old quarreling daughters out of the car and driving away?
Their bickering was annoying I’m sure, but I doubt that’s what prompted her to make good on the most widely used threat of all time. “Stop fighting or I’ll stop the car.”
Ultimately, what eats away at parents like Primoff – and me -- is the fear that we are the cause of the sibling quarrels. That our combative kids are proof that we are failing as parents. What am I doing wrong and how can I fix this, we wonder?
Parenting experts offer a wide variety of tips and tricks. We’ve heard them before, but perhaps a few are worth repeating.
• Negotiate in advance solutions and penalties for common daily battles.
• Set ground rules for fair fighting, like teaching them to fight with words, not fists.
• Use natural consequences. For example, those who demand to get the first or the most, get the last and the least.
The one point on which all the experts agree is that fighting is both normal and essential for growing up. Somehow squabbling with siblings teaches kids how to solve problems and handle conflicts as adults.
To this end, my most trusted advisor (my mom) and the books, too, strongly advise that parents let kids work out their battles themselves.
So, I guess I can retire my whistle and striped shirt. Next time my kids are fighting, you can find me at the piano.
Friday, July 17, 2009
Life Runs Like a River
It’s summer and that means one thing: family road trips
This weekend, we walked across the Mississippi River. Not on a bridge, but directly through the river from one side to the other. We accomplished this impressive feat at the river’s headwaters in Itasca State Park, of course, where the water is warm and clear and about 8 inches deep.
As we wandered down the infant stream I was able to stretch out my arms and touch the long grass on both banks of this famous river. Amazing!
Dozens of children played in the water. It’s a real-life “lazy river,” and they floated down the shallow, narrow stream beaming with the pure joy of childhood and summer.
As we walked back upstream, I was amazed by the force of the current. I thought it might be gentler at the beginning. That it would take some time to build momentum and force. Apparently not. Even at the onset, you can tell by the pull of this river that it is destined for greatness.
Walking through the headwaters of the Mississippi was oddly appropriate. I’ve been reflecting on the parallels between rivers and life this week, triggered by my dad’s 80th birthday and the celebration of my 10th wedding anniversary.
It’s hard to believe a decade has passed since my husband Mike and I got married. Despite a bunch of major life changes, we feel much the same.
On our anniversary day, we exchanged a couple off-key voicemail serenades. The chorus of one of them, an old Loggins and Messina song, rings through my head as I’m walking up the Mississippi. “And we go on and on, watching the river run. Further and further from things that we’ve done, leaving them one by one.”
I think of the last two decades. High school and college are ancient history. My years of being independent and single are long past. Our kids’ baby and toddler stages, too, are already over. This fall all of them will be in school.
And my dad’s 80th is a stark reminder that my parents are in the twilight of life – every day with them is precious.
When we got married, our dog Bogart was a spry young pup with gleaming chocolate-colored fur. Today, Bogart’s muzzle is completely white, his fur is faded and clumpy, and he struggles to sit, climb or stand up. A decade is forever for a dog.
I watch the waters of the Mississippi racing over my feet at the beginning of a 2,500 mile journey to the ocean, and I’m stuck by how fast my own river is racing. It can be sad to think about all the life stages already left behind.
But the chorus of the song continues. “We have just begun, watching the river run. Listening and learning and yearning, run river run.”
We are powerless to slow the rivers of life. We can’t build a dam to stop them. Which leaves us only to live in and appreciate the present -- to listen, learn, yearn and embrace our river’s flow.
So today, there are fish to catch, cards to play, and meals to share with our family and dear friends. Run river run.
This weekend, we walked across the Mississippi River. Not on a bridge, but directly through the river from one side to the other. We accomplished this impressive feat at the river’s headwaters in Itasca State Park, of course, where the water is warm and clear and about 8 inches deep.
As we wandered down the infant stream I was able to stretch out my arms and touch the long grass on both banks of this famous river. Amazing!
Dozens of children played in the water. It’s a real-life “lazy river,” and they floated down the shallow, narrow stream beaming with the pure joy of childhood and summer.
As we walked back upstream, I was amazed by the force of the current. I thought it might be gentler at the beginning. That it would take some time to build momentum and force. Apparently not. Even at the onset, you can tell by the pull of this river that it is destined for greatness.
Walking through the headwaters of the Mississippi was oddly appropriate. I’ve been reflecting on the parallels between rivers and life this week, triggered by my dad’s 80th birthday and the celebration of my 10th wedding anniversary.
It’s hard to believe a decade has passed since my husband Mike and I got married. Despite a bunch of major life changes, we feel much the same.
On our anniversary day, we exchanged a couple off-key voicemail serenades. The chorus of one of them, an old Loggins and Messina song, rings through my head as I’m walking up the Mississippi. “And we go on and on, watching the river run. Further and further from things that we’ve done, leaving them one by one.”
I think of the last two decades. High school and college are ancient history. My years of being independent and single are long past. Our kids’ baby and toddler stages, too, are already over. This fall all of them will be in school.
And my dad’s 80th is a stark reminder that my parents are in the twilight of life – every day with them is precious.
When we got married, our dog Bogart was a spry young pup with gleaming chocolate-colored fur. Today, Bogart’s muzzle is completely white, his fur is faded and clumpy, and he struggles to sit, climb or stand up. A decade is forever for a dog.
I watch the waters of the Mississippi racing over my feet at the beginning of a 2,500 mile journey to the ocean, and I’m stuck by how fast my own river is racing. It can be sad to think about all the life stages already left behind.
But the chorus of the song continues. “We have just begun, watching the river run. Listening and learning and yearning, run river run.”
We are powerless to slow the rivers of life. We can’t build a dam to stop them. Which leaves us only to live in and appreciate the present -- to listen, learn, yearn and embrace our river’s flow.
So today, there are fish to catch, cards to play, and meals to share with our family and dear friends. Run river run.
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