Susan's Musings

Our Lose/Lose Society

We’re all familiar with the concept of win/win. I buy a dress that fits my needs in exchange for money that fits the needs of the storeowner. Mike washes the supper dishes and Tali dries them so that they can both get outside and play before it gets dark.

Our society is steadily creeping towards basing itself on a lose/lose philosophy. The sad incident at the Cincinnati Zoo is just one example. Here are the bare facts: a three-year-old toddler entered the moat surrounding the gorilla enclosure and was dragged through the water by a gorilla. 

What if the zoo had not shot the animal? The child might have been rescued safely or might have been harmed. There certainly was a threat of greater damage. How much time do you think would have passed before Black LIves Matter activists began questioning whether the zoo might have acted more quickly and shot the gorilla had the child been white? How long before President Obama picked up the opportunity to agitate for hatred between Americans, a specialty of his, by suggesting that racist America revealed itself once again? How long before someone posted a despicable, stupid comment under the article on a news website making a comparison between the Black child and the gorilla? How long until a daring reporter found out that the bigoted comment-writer once walked on a New York City street that Donald Trump frequently strode, proving that all Trump supporters are Ku Klux Klan wanna-bees? 

I give that scenario two days to play out. 

Meanwhile, the twitter-sphere is out for blood. Someone has to pay! The zoo, the parents, the owner of the trucking company that transported the gorilla to the zoo—surely someone has to suffer because of the deeply sad occurrence. 

Perhaps not. Maybe zoos and other public areas can reassess their safety features and make some changes after being emotionally shaken by this incident. Maybe all parents will be reminded of the speed with which a child can get into trouble. They can hug their children a bit tighter and commit to greater care while at the same time being reminded that as humans they cannot guarantee their children’s safety. Maybe the parents of the toddler who fell into the moat will feel a greater responsibility to raise their children to be givers to their community and country so that their presence is a blessing to the world. Maybe those who believe like PETA that an animal’s life is worth more than a human one will question deep inside themselves whether they truly would have rather seen the gorilla alive and the child dead. Maybe we can, as a society, accept that tragedies can occur without needing to demonize a scapegoat. 

Obviously, if the scenario had played out on a movie screen, a different script could have been written. Instead, it was real life. Everyone on the spot did the best they could within the limitations of human frailty, time and place. That is called reality. The gorilla lost its life, the zoo lost its gorilla and its reputation, the parents lost equanimity and anonymity. As a society we have become less comfortable saying, “There but for the grace of God, go I,” and quicker to condemn and vilify. At what point do we say that there was enough loss and simply accept that bad things sometimes just do happen?

 

I was sent the following video by a friend and found it surprising and shocking. Especially when our cell phones constantly seduce us to look at them instead of around us, I urge you to take the time and see this before heading to the water with kids (or adults).

 

And...while you’re packing summer reading for when the kids are out of the water, don’t forget our 3 Thought Tool books. Light enough for summer; deep enough for growth. 

Available in a money-saving set or separately

 

 

A Few Pictures

Thank you for your prayers, blessings and good wishes. I am remembering what nighttime feedings are like, but more importantly, I'm remembering newborn deliciousness. I hope to be back writing Musings next week. In the meantime, here are a few pictures of our latest blessing. 

Also, please enjoy a special price on our Ancient Jewish Wisdom TV Show set. If I can't 'visit' by writing, we can still spend some time together. 

 

Republicans-0; Democrats-0; Baby Declared Winner

Like all of us, I juggle many hats. On rare occasions, bright lights on one hat start flashing so that it is the only one visible. That happened to me last week when my husband and I were woken up at 5:30 a.m. by a hospital nurse telling us that they were wheeling our daughter into emergency surgery. By God’s grace, the best possible doctors were on hand and a short time later she was stable after an emergency cesarian section. Her premature newborn son was sent to the NICU (neonatal intensive care unit). 

Both mother and baby, thank God, did well and they are now recuperating and growing at home with the new father and myself providing full-time support. We are assisted by tremendous help from one of my other daughters and a group of friends who keep dropping off meals and even picking up and delivering laundry. Amazon’s shipping of necessities the new parents didn’t think they would need for a while deserves a mention as well. 

This should explain why our ministry had a virtual blackout last week: no Thought Tool, Ask the Rabbi or Musing. Truthfully, I’m not sure when I will be back at my desk full time. Right now, I am remembering what new motherhood is like. Little sleep, lots of diaper changes and overflowing prayers of gratitude. 

Thanks for your patience and support while my mother and grandmother hat rules.

A New Normal?

A strange thing happened to me this week—twice. I’m wondering if this is the new norm. I had two first-time interactions with female representatives from two different companies. Each woman explained her poor customer service and tardy attention to my needs by providing me with details of her children’s lives. 

There are many business contacts and vendors with whom I have long-standing associations. We might interact only a few times a year, but over the course of years a relationship develops. When, last week, one of these men apologized for not responding rapidly to an email, I appreciated his letting me know that his father-in-law’s passing led to his missing work. I was able to send condolences as well as dismissing any concerns that his work ethic was slipping. It was appropriate for him to share personal information.  

The two instances this week, however, were completely different. In one case, the company’s agent explained that she might be late for a one-time appointment if her daughter’s doctor visit went too long. Excuse me? As a human being and a mother, I appreciate that doctor visits are unpredictable. That has nothing to do with me as a client. Surely, she should have informed her company of her dilemma at which point they might arrange to send another agent in her place or they could choose to call, apologize and reschedule. As it was, the agent kept me waiting for half an hour.  

The second instance was with a company’s representative assigned to my account. In this case, we are at the beginning of what is meant to be a protracted working relationship. After following up when I did not receive a timely response to an email, I heard back. While the email started with an apology for not responding and ended with an assurance that our account mattered, in between our representative explained how many children she has and how, obviously, they keep her busy. 

I don’t get it. Is this the new professionalism? After socially and financially engineering our society so women both choose to and are forced to work, are we dropping the illusion of expecting the same level of service as a man provides? Has ‘equal pay for equal work,’ which at least sounds fair even if statistics are manipulated to make a case for it, devolved into an open and outright acknowledgment that what is demanded is actually  ‘equal pay for lesser work’? 

I greatly appreciate motherhood. I appreciate many things including caring for elderly parents, community involvement, charitable work, devoting time to strengthening marriage, hobbies and play. I think that life works better when a man and woman combine their talents and time to build a unified family, social and economic life. Our society has chosen over the past few decades to reject that idea, insisting that one person can do it all—work, raise children and still find time for other interests. 

As this idea is shown to be impossible, my experiences this week suggest that we may have moved to the next level where we admit that family and work demands often conflict. Is the new response to basically say, “Tough luck” to those who depend on functioning businesses, throwing another hand grenade at America’s tottering economy?

Was my experience simply a (I hesitate to use the word) coincidence? Are you also finding that the lines between personal and professional are blurring in a disturbing way?

Do you have a long drive to be with family for Christmas? 
Take along one of our audio CDs and let the miles  melt away.

                  

Karen, Tanzania and Islamic Immigrants

Growing up, there were a number of books that I read numerous times. Among them were Karen and With Love from Karen, both written by Marie Killilea. They tell the story of her family’s life after her daughter was born with cerebral palsy. Ignoring the common advice given in the 1940s to institutionalize their daughter and forget that she had been born, the Killilea’s raised Karen as they raised her siblings, with the goal of maximizing each one’s potential. 

While I haven’t read those books recently (though this Musing is going to encourage me to do so) one scene is imprinted on my memory. At the insistence of her parents, Karen’s older sister, Marie, stays put while her sister makes a physically daunting and exhausting journey to the kitchen for a glass of water. Marie is anguished as she recognizes that she could easily and immediately bring the drink to her sister. At her age she doesn’t comprehend her parents’ wisdom in recognizing that Karen’s life will be destroyed if she views herself as a powerless victim of her birth circumstances rather than as a capable human being.

Maturity doesn’t necessarily make it easier for us to ignore the tugs at our heartstrings. That is a blessing. Being able to ignore the suffering of others makes us callous. Yet, maturity demands that feeling the suffering of others doesn’t automatically translate into performing what seems to be the kindest response. Sometimes,  what looks like kindness is actually cruelty, just as Marie’s getting her sister a drink would have ended up harming, not helping, Karen. 

I regularly read an apolitical blog. Sporadic clues make me think that the writer proudly considers herself liberal, but that is immaterial to her focus. I read it for its honest portrayal of the writer’s family’s life. Her son was born prematurely and, now as a young boy, faces tremendous physical and emotional challenges. The author reveals black days along with bursts of light, the times that frustration and anger overwhelm her, those moments when optimism and joy reign and the constant seesaw of a mother’s heart being broken and mended. Reading her blog and getting a peek at the love she and her husband lavish on both their children makes me a better person.

Recently, she recounted how painful it is for her when other children gawk at her different-looking, son, especially when they mock or laugh at him. When reason dominates her emotions, she recognizes that the ridicule isn’t set in stone. The more time children spend with handicapped children or those who look different from them, the more they focus on the commonalities rather than the differences. 

She then extends her views into the political realm. Her conclusion is that those of us who are suspicious of Islam and wary of letting in Moslem Syrian refugees are ignorant of the knowledge that they are just like us. Just as the healthy child’s first instinct is often to distance himself from the visually impaired or wheelchair bound child, if only we could get to know those refugees we want kept at a distance, we would realize that underneath superficial externals we are the same.

If only it was true. Just after I read this blog post, I read a book by a different mother. This book, Beyond the Pale, is the personal recounting of a mother who gives birth to a child with albinism. As part of the author’s exploration of the subject, she goes to Tanzania, appalled to discover that albinos there are often murdered or mutilated so that their limbs can be sold to witch doctors. The examples recounted in the book are horrifying.

I wonder how my blog author would feel about inviting Tanzanians into her community if albinism was her son’s particular challenge. Not every Tanzanian is going to attack a defenseless child. Some will. When we allow an immigrant from a culture where such attacks are acceptable into our country, we need a plan to ensure that the culture won’t accompany the immigrant. Since our country’s immigration policies encourage family reunification, even allowing in a Tanzanian albino fleeing dismemberment could result in opening the door to many more people. Tragically, family members are often complicit in the attacks. In the real world, compassion and good intentions don’t easily turn into policy. 

Sadly, the Moslem culture in many countries (not warped individuals, but the educational system, the government’s official message and the religious establishment) teaches that non-Moslems or the ‘wrong type’ of Moslems should not be treated with respect and even encourages murderous attacks on them. America is now home to ‘honor killings’ even if the press chooses not to highlight them. Certainly, immigrants or refugees can be exposed to a new culture and they can change. Certainly, some of those who want to come to America want to do so because they reject their home culture. Yet, there is nothing in place in our policies or educational systems which suggests that such a change will take place or that favors people who find their birth culture’s views abhorrent. 

In a fantasy world, all cultures are equally good. In reality, they aren’t. What seems to be the compassionate response to areas of the world that are riven with strife and misery can actually lead to a proliferation of strife and misery in our land as well. A different, truly compassionate answer, is needed. 

Holidays coming? Take advantage of the promo code BONUS at checkout
and save 10% on all items in our store.

 

 

 

 

Failing Minimalism

Our recent move from a huge home to an apartment seemed like a good time to embrace the ‘only keep what you need and love’ movement. The cynic in me is sure that once enough people have discarded their excess clothing and general stuff the culture will encourage a resurgence of the ‘you deserve a little extra’ movement, but the downsizing we needed to do did fit the current mood of the times. 

Truthfully, I enjoyed holding each book we own and donating the (very) few that I could part with; passing on our arts and crafts supplies to a friend with young children was fun; leaving behind some excessively well-used towels and other household goods was a relief. 

Problems did arise, however. I can’t say that dozens of new rolls of paper towels spark joy (to use a term from a popular decluttering book for those items you should keep), but not having a new roll available when needed sparks annoyance. In our old house there was always plenty of room for the Costco sized paper towel packages–as well as toilet paper, tissues, fabric softener and myriad other supplies.  The same extravagant storage area is conspicuously absent from our apartment. To be fair, with seven children grown and out of our home, we don’t plow through food or paper goods at anywhere near the same rate as we used to do. Whether or not we need to buy eight boxes of spaghetti at a time or 25 pounds of flour in one go avoids an important issue. While I may not love the item, I have been in love with Costco for years.

Almost without exception, everything I have bought at Costco over the past few decades has been good quality at a good price. Just as importantly, the stores in Issaquah and Kirkland, WA that I frequented were fun places. I invariably ran into friends, saw unusual offerings that made me smile, had pleasant interactions with staff and emerged grateful and appreciative of the abundance this country offers. Moving to the East coast diminished some of the enjoyment. Sadly, the stores near our new apartment were not as well run or as well stocked. With my need for bulk items reduced and the store not as much of an experience, I even downgraded my executive membership to an ordinary one with an eye to wondering whether we needed to belong anymore. 

This week, my enthusiasm was reignited. Maybe it was snagging the parking spot right near the entrance, maybe it was a warehouse stocked to the brim as Thanksgiving and Christmas near, maybe they have instituted better employee training for my local store, but this trip reached the old levels of fun. Along with the cranberries and shampoo from my shopping list, I came home with an irresistible present for a grandchild, priced almost absurdly low and sure to come in handy. 

                     
 Tummy rub 

                         Time for a drink
    
                               Learning to Beg

The grandchild gift has been appropriated. We certainly don’t need it, but my husband immediately reserved it for our Noddy room, aka our guest room and/or grandchild playroom. He thought it was too good to give to just one grandchild; this way it is available for all. In the meantime, he is having a grand time setting up photo shots and sending them to our children. My husband grew up with dogs and misses having one while my canine enthusiasm is well in check, so I’m delighted with this solution. 

I hope this blog doesn’t seem akin to the “I’m having tuna fish on whole wheat for lunch” posts sometimes seen on Facebook. For me, the shopping expedition and my husband’s joy in his fluffy new friend are a welcome respite from the serious issues of the day. Concerns for the future shouldn’t drown out pleasure in the present. I hope you find it a refreshing time-out as well. 

There is always room for one more book! Take a look at our low-priced

Dear Rabbi and Susan: 101 Real-Life Ask the Rabbi Questions

 

 

 

 

 

Keep Those Problems Coming

Recently, my husband and I had the privilege of hearing Dr. Ben Carson speak. For the moment, I’d like to put aside his presidential aspirations to focus on one insight he gave us into his life. 

Speaking of his adolescence, Dr. Carson told us how closely he came to succumbing to an explosive temper and badly hurting or even murdering someone. By God’s grace, his blows were deflected and the horror at what had almost happened propelled him to put himself in God’s hands and ask for His help. 

Just imagine. Instead of becoming a world-famous pediatric neurosurgeon, saving lives and being a blessing to so many, Dr. Carson could have been one more inmate of juvenile hall, on a path to a life either wasted or a curse to those around him. 

At the age of seventeen, Chris Wilson did commit a murder and was sentenced to life in prison. While incarcerated he made a decision that even if his life was spent behind bars, he would keep learning and strive to help others. At 33, a judge saw the person behind the sentence and gave Wilson a chance. He is now a hard-working entrepreneur on parole, giving ex-prisoners a chance to re-enter society through his business. 

In Israel today, thirteen and fourteen year old boys and girls are acting on the message of hatred they have been receiving since birth and stabbing Israelis. They, like the teenaged Dr. Carson and Mr. Wilson, grew up in a society that failed them, not with a lack of money, but with a lack of positive values. 

What to do with teenagers who commit heinous crimes is a valid question. Do we lock them up for the rest of their lives or not? Yet, that question lets us, as a society, off the hook. Imagine if we discovered that the drinking water in a city was poisoning the inhabitants. Citizens would be appalled and the government would provide millions of dollars for compensation to those who lost family members, while making sure that blood transfusions and hospital care for those who were sickened was available. All this is meaningless if no changes are made to the water supply. Even as we were trying to cope with the disaster, the next group of people would be being poisoned. 

Isn’t it better to fix the problem and then deal with past consequences rather than keeping the flow of harm running, while racing to cope with the ever-increasing number of casualties? I cringe when politicians speak of the importance of higher education for minorities and lower income families. How about fixing elementary schools first rather than pushing colleges to enroll illiterate individuals with poor study habits? What is the point if at the same time the next batch of first graders is destroyed? I am disgusted when politicians shed crocodile tears for inner city youth while promoting programs that work against marriage and demanding that only ideas that reject traditional Judeo-Christian values must be disseminated in the public square. I recoil when politicians pontificate about violence in the Middle East and don’t withhold funding from groups that run TV shows for preschoolers that teach violence and hatred against Jews and Christians. 

Like many Americans, I have views on Dr. Carson’s candidacy. Wherever you fall on that question, we all should recognize the catastrophe in the making as human potential gets wasted while adults, who should be wiser, betray the youth for whom we are responsible.

Don't miss out on the half-price sale on Madam, I'm Adam: Decoding the Marriage Secrets of Eden

 

Joy and Heartbreak

My husband and I were blessed once again to be in Jerusalem for the chock-full month of holidays that just ended, as we have been for the past few years. This trip was different. 

The month tends to be packed with seeing family and friends, celebrating the Festival days and Shabbat, and keeping up with our ministry work. We aren’t looking to run around the country (though there is much we would love to see). There is much joy in living in Jerusalem, visiting the cafes and restaurants within a few blocks of the apartment we rent, being able to walk or take a short bus ride to the Western Wall, drinking in the unique aura of the city and spending as much time as we can with our Israeli daughter, son-in-law and grandson.  Each year, however, we do try to set aside one day for an outing. 

One year, we went to the cave of Machpela in Hebron, where Adam and Eve, Abraham and Sarah, Isaac and Rebecca, and Jacob and Leah are buried. On our way back from there, we stopped at Rachel’s tomb. Another year, we spent a day in Shiloh, the site of Hannah’s prayer for a son and where the Mishkan, the temporary Temple, stood for hundreds of years. This year, our plan was to go to Yad VaShem, Jerusalem’s Holocaust Museum. Neither of us had been there for a few decades and it has been entirely rebuilt from when we saw it.         

 

We didn’t make it. There was no time to focus on the attempted extermination of Jews seventy years ago in Europe when outside our door the attempted extermination of Jews in Israel was taking place right now. 

The second day my husband and I were in Israel, we went to the graves of his parents on Har HaMenuchot, ‘The Mount of Those Who are Resting.’ At the end of our stay, on the day we had set aside for an outing, we paid a shiva (condolence) call on the parents of Eitam Henkin who, along with his wife Na’ama, had just been buried on Har HaMenuchot. Driving home on the evening of October 1st, with their four sons, ages 9, 7, 4, and 9 months, they were fired on and killed by Moslem terrorists. Their deaths were the first of too many and the number is increasing daily. 

 

Israel is a small country; the Jewish people make up a small population. You would be hard pressed to find one Israeli Jew, who does not know one of the victims of this new Intifiada. Yet, funeral attendance and shiva calls for terrorist victims in Israel are attended by hundreds, even thousands, who do not necessarily know the individuals involved. Not only is there a feeling of family but there is also a recognition that had I driven home a different way, boarded an earlier bus or walked down a different street, that could have been me. While we were in the Henkin apartment, two beautiful teenage girls came to pay a shiva call. As they hugged Rabbanit Henkin, who with her husband and Na’ama’s parents will be raising the orphaned grandchildren, they told her that the grandchildren will be all right. How do they know? Because seven years ago, that was their situation when their mother was murdered. 

Think of the way you felt in the days following 9/11 and you will have an inkling of how Israelis feel. Yet, unlike 9/11 which was an aberration in America, this is their norm. Life continues, as despite the incredible tension, the heightened awareness, people continue working, shopping and going to school. We found ourselves in a business meeting, sharing ideas and laughter. Later in the meeting, the man we were meeting mentioned that his study partner had been murdered less than a year earlier. A friend told me the following story. A number of years ago, after two young boys who played  hookey from school to hike in the hills behind their home were found slaughtered in a cave, she asked her daughter not to take a shortcut home that went through an undeveloped field. For a few days, her daughter obeyed. Then she came to her mother and said, “Mom, do you want me to live in Israel?” “Of course, was the reply.”  The daughter said, “Then you have to let me live.” She went back to using the shortcut.  

Jews are given to introspection. It is not an accident that Freud was Jewish. He may have been wrong in his ideas, and motivated by rebellion against God, but ‘go with the flow,’  and ‘eat, drink and be merry,’ are not part of the Jewish psyche. The Israeli press is filled with articles of people reminding themselves and others that not all Moslems are evil and that Israel could handle things better. There are Moslem citizens of Israel who are grateful for and loyal to the state, including serving honorably in the army, and there are Jewish ones who hate the state and do not serve. There have been scattered lone-wolf attacks by Jews against Moslems and scattered instances of Moslems saving the lives of Jews under attack. That is all true–and in terms of stopping this evil it is all irrelevant. 

What matters is the majority message, the respective government’s directives and the underlying culture on each side. When a Moslem teenager viciously stabs and critically wounds a 13 year old boy riding a bicycle and is subsequently killed by the police when he refuses orders to   stand still and drop his knife, and papers around the world run a headline, “Palestinian teenager killed by Israeli police,” that has nothing to do with any Israeli policy. When a Palestinian law student at an Israeli university starts stabbing Israelis, that has nothing to do with poverty. When John Kerry spouts idiocy, talking of blame on both sides, that has zero to do with the Temple Mount. When the Moslem Arab world and the United Nations choose to exploit and institutionalize refugees that has nothing to do with Israel, a country that absorbed hundreds of thousands of Jews expelled from Moslem lands.  

Please read Bret Stephens’ Wall Street Journal article. Please know that most of what you hear and read in the world press, including America’s, is slanted, false and misleading. You need to know this, because, while God punishes his chosen people, those who choose to side with the persecutors or to join in the persecution end up suffering too. Often, they disappear from the stage of history. (Horrifically, as when 80% of the Jewish nation remained in Egypt rather than aligning with Moses, most of the Jewish community in America is frequently on the wrong side.) 

It is tragic when any human suffers. Our hearts are properly torn when a tsunami ravages any city or when any humans attack each other. There is an added element of tragedy when the world turns against the Jewish people. Whether it is fair or not, whether we like it or not, what is happening in Israel will determine what happens in America. An America founded on Judeo-Christian values was a blessing to the Jewish people and had the right to ask for God’s protection. A secular, Godless America, evolving as an enemy to the Jewish people, cannot. 

Useful Idealists

When I wrote last week’s Musing a week in advance and declared that whatever was happening, I was not going to pay much attention, I had no idea that my Musing would run right after one of the most momentous weeks in American history. Two major Supreme Court decisions came down, each of which, in its own way reshaped this country. (As for my week, it was wonderful and you can see some pictures below.) 

The Obergefell vs. Hodges ruling did not happen in a vacuum. It is, in many ways, the logical conclusion of the 1962 and 1963 Supreme Court decisions removing prayer and Bible reading from government schools. A featured player in those endeavors was Madalyn Murray O’Hair, who, according to her son, openly stated her goal of bringing down the United States. These rulings effectively began the powerful process dedicated to replacing the idea from our Declaration of Independence that our rights come from our Creator, with the concept that rights emanate from government. 

The overwhelming majority of those who supported Madalyn Murray O’Hair, including I daresay, the Supreme Court Justices who signed on to the ruling, did not share her adoration of the Soviet Union or her hatred for America. They weren’t even the Americans and other Soviet apologists around the world who were known as ‘useful idiots’. Those people believed the propaganda put out by the Communists and, depending on their level of influence, helped suppress any facts that contradicted the false, rosy picture those in control painted. Their passionate defense of what they wanted to believe rather than reality made them the unwitting supporters of misery and bloodshed. 

However, the average American of good will who felt sympathy for the atheist child in school, or Heaven have mercy, the way too many misguided Jews who saw these rulings as a victory, were mostly good and virtuous people. Those who supported taking prayer and Bibles out of schools were often highly schooled themselves, articulate and accomplished. However, they lacked a Godly moral compass and the historical wisdom that would have told them that their efforts would lead to the dangerous and ineffective school system that exists today. They scoffed at those who claimed that education institutions would be harmed, thereby trapping children of all and no faiths in wretchedness and effectively ending America being a land of opportunity for so many. Many would still argue that those Supreme Court decisions have no bearing on the decline of education, rather they simply happened to coincide. I disagree. 

The majority of people supporting homosexual marriage today are neither evil nor stupid. In many cases, they are the result of an education that left them historically ignorant, stripped of a Biblical moral code,  and open to manipulation. They are well-meaning, kind and intelligent. Nonetheless, they are being used to advance an agenda that already is leading to suppression of free speech, association and religion—in other words, the end of America as we know it. They sincerely believe the replacement will be better; I sincerely believe it will be a tragedy leading to greater poverty, increased inhumanity and more barriers to opportunity— all results that will dismay these useful idealists.

We are seeing the results of almost sixty years of a societal take-over. Too many in our country, let alone immigrants who are kept from learning what ‘American culture’ traditionally meant, are highly schooled though poorly educated; highly indoctrinated with underdeveloped powers of independent thought; technologically advanced but deprived of the gift of insightful contemplation, highly emotional  and poorly equipped to handle thoughts that differ from their own. They pride themselves on ‘inclusiveness’ while exhibiting breath-taking bigotry. 

Are there enough Americans willing to still fight for the country of our Founders? It will require individuals who, struggling to feed their families in a moribund economy, will still take the time to educate themselves in history (both ours and of other countries), in politics, in logic and in elocution among other fields. It will require courage, stamina and firmness of character to withstand ad hominem attacks. It will require determination not to be dissuaded by setbacks. It will require faith in God, despite economic and social punishment for that belief. I personally hope I am up to the battle—I will pray for strength and strive to be. 

Here are two places to begin. In World War I, especially in Britain, white feathers were distributed to those men who didn’t enlist. It is time to shame those who profess love for this country and God but do not vote, whether in a presidential, senatorial or school board election. There should be 100% turnout among those appalled at the direction this country is taking.  

Secondly, we all must fight for the next generation. That means taking charge of our children and grandchildren’s education, protecting them from the culture and presenting loving, coherent and intelligent counter-forces. It will be a full time job, but like the man who planted a tree knowing that it would never grow quickly enough for him to enjoy its shade in his lifetime, it is our obligation to take a page from secular fundamentalists and plan for decades down the road even as we try to fight the onslaught currently heading our way. 

 

 

 

 

Grandma Camp

There may be exciting/depressing/timely things happening in the world this week. I am not going to be writing about them. This week, I am focusing on the future, in the form of five little girls between the ages of four-and-a-half and seven.  (This Musing is actually being written and scheduled in advance.)

If I was marketing my Grandma Camp, I would label it as retro. I am not teaching computer skills, we aren’t playing electronic versions of games, and the books I will be reading aloud are wholesome, beloved classics, many over a hundred years old. I’ve taken CD’s from the library with songs from my children’s childhood like Hap Palmer’s, “This Is the Story about Sammy,” and Raffi’s “Baby Beluga.” I may even throw in some ditties from my childhood like “The Hokey Pokey.” None of the songs call for hip-thrusting, pelvic gyrations.  

 

 

There are some differences between activities I did with my own children and those I have planned. Instead of remaining focused on my budget, I have been spending rather recklessly. I’m not talking Tiffany bracelets, but I did buy some art supplies at Michael’s that were neither on sale nor eligible for my 40% off coupon. Should we be beset by a week of rain, I might splurge $2.99 to rent Chitty-Chitty-Bang-Bang since it isn’t in my library’s system. After all, since my husband and I are not responsible for the girls’ clothing or educational needs, or for future orthodonture, we have a little more wiggle room. 

 

Similarly, while we will snack on peppers and carrots, we won’t be doing so exclusively. Their mothers can counter-balance any nutritional faux-pas I make. I have even acquired some messy art materials that I would have been reluctant to allow into my own children’s hands and hope that the weather will allow us to make and throw exploding paint balloons. 

 For one week, I hope to put my concerns about the fate of this nation and the world aside. Business matters will need to wait. Even my husband is willingly moving into second place, not necessarily enjoying, but at least tolerating a return to macaroni and cheese for dinner. (I am positive that his own work week will be interrupted as I can’t imagine him resisting frequently joining in our activities.) My voice may be a small one when it comes to grand affairs, but it is an oversized one where these girls are concerned. As I know from my own experience, grandparents have a crucial role to play, unique to them.  I may or may not be able to influence ‘the course of human events,’ but I will do my best to love my granddaughters and grandsons, at the same time hopefully building their inner compasses and moral lodestones so that they will make the right choices no matter what false values the world preaches to them.