the world we create

I was visiting one of my friend's blogs the other day and marveled at how different it was from my own. It is obvious we are at entirely different stages in our life; she has three young children in the process of experiencing everything for the first time, while Marissa, my one and only, has long since flown the coop as she moves to establish her own life.

What struck me about my friend's images, photos of a wide variety of activities and places, is the range of experiences she is offering to her children. In a sense, the lives our children lead as they grow and develop under our wing, are formed to a large extent by the world we create for them. We expose them to as much or as little as we deem worthy (or at least TRY) to provide a vision of their world as a relatively safe, but challenging place where the wonders and possibilities are limited only by their curiosity and imagination. Hopefully they mature with their own vision of the world (that incorporates a little of the optimism and promise you had striven so hard to imbue). And also you hope they do not become too disillusioned or discouraged by what they witness as they strike out on their own.

I know Marissa was exposed to things at a young age we did not want her to witness; a crazy lady shouting profanities as she stepped into our subway car on a visit to NYC, a barely dressed and in-your-face gay guy on his way to the Gay Pride Parade on a crowded BART car (with his "junk" firmly planted in front of my daughter's face while his partner looked apologetically at my wife and Marissa) in San Francisco. (I'm all for the spirit of the Gay Pride Parade mind you, but please, could you be a little more "tasteful" in your pride?) I'm sure I can remember worse things if I delve into the recesses of my mind some more, but these are memories that conjure up the look of fear and confusion that clouded her otherwise happy countenance in a way that summoned my protective instincts. I know she's none the worse for wear from these encounters and she has not suffered permanent psychological damage by any of this. In fact, I suspect it prepared her for her two-year stint in NYC to the extent that she was not surprised by anything she saw there, nor unduly intimidated or frightened by it. I had just hoped to shield her from such things until she grew a little older. I suppose this was totally unrealistic in this age of communication where everything is in front of us (like that gay guy on BART). If it's not on TV, well there's radio, the movies, the web, you name it. (And after all, you do have to venture forth into the world every so often to show them what's out there.) You can only create the world in the image you want for so long.

Perhaps the important lesson here is to focus on teaching your children the WAY they should process the encounters they have with the unknown and unfamiliar; provide them with a sense of structure and confidence within themselves that allows them to know they can handle whatever comes their way. Let them know they are responsible for the world they create.

a long-awaited excuse

An article entitled, "Secondhand Smoke and Mental Health" appeared in the June 14, 2010 issue of the New York Times. The article states that smokers "are known to suffer from high rates of depression and other mental health problems." It goes on to state that a study now finds "that even people exposed to secondhand smoke are at significantly increased risk - and more likely to be hospitalized for mental illness."

My mother and father and aunts and uncles were notorious smokers. I grew up in a cloud of cigarette smoke. It wasn't until I visited some of my friends' homes that I realized that the air inside could be clear, with an unobstructed view.

The article goes on to state, "Nonsmokers exposed to secondhand smoke were 1.5 times as likely to suffer from symptoms of psychological distress as unexposed nonsmokers. The risk increased with greater exposure. And though psychiatric hospitalizations were rare over all, they were almost three times as common for the exposed nonsmokers, according to the study."

So, if I begin manifesting strange behavior or seem unusually depressed, well, you can figure it out . . .

MoonPies

The other day at the check-out counter of my local supermarket there was a display of the day's deals strategically placed to inspire impulse buying. In this instance, the tantalizing deal was for MoonPies for $ .50. Needless to say, I could not resist. MoonPies in and of themselves are a guilty pleasure of mine. At half the normal price, I wondered how it was possible there were still ANY left.

For the unititiated, MoonPies were born in 1917, a creation of Earl Mitchell Sr., who came up with the idea of sandwiching a marshmallow filling between two graham cookies and then dipping the entire confection in chocolate. The "moon" in the MoonPie came from a mine worker who told Mr. Mitchell he wanted something filling and solid and "about that big" as he framed the moon with his hands. The rest is junk food history.

MoonPies contain a whopping 300 calories and have virtually no nutritive value whatsoever. BUT, let us not discount the happiness they can provoke at each delightful bite. I must confess my latest attempt at dieting has overtaken my normally gluttonous behavior. That very same MoonPie that I purchased without a moment's hesitation, presently sits quietly in my kitchen cupboard where occasionally it will beckon to me in its characteristically seductive way. Thus far I have not succumbed, but as any devoted trekkie can tell you, "resistance is futile."