Duuh-Duh....Duuh-Duh

I couldn’t have been more excited.  It was finally time to sit down with my sons to watch one of my all time favorite movies.  JAWS.  I couldn’t wait to see their reactions to some of the pivotal scenes, to the appearance of the shark, to the watery terror that still resides in a small box at the back of my brain.

I first saw Jaws in the theater with my dad and a younger cousin.  We were about 10 and 8, I think.  Not sure exactly how old we were, but I remember with absolute clarity the moment Chrissie Watkins gets yanked under the water for the first time shrieking in terror.  I can recall precisely our reaction when the fish smashed into Hooper’s cage; and when Ben Gardner’s head rolls into view through the hole in the bottom of his boat, our asses clenched so tightly we both levitated off our seats. 

It’s been more than thirty years since that first viewing.  I bet I’ve seen Jaws a hundred times, and I still consider it when I go in the ocean.  Every shadow is a toothy killer.  Everything that brushes my legs is finny death.  It was that affecting.

OK, back to the present.  Both boys loved the movie, but I suspect it won’t scar them as it did me.  I was sure of that when the aforementioned head rolled out of the boat, my younger son yelled “Ah, zombie!!”  I know it shocked both kids, but for any number of reasons they saw through the robotic shark.  They appreciated the movie, my older (12 year old) son even proclaiming Spielberg a genius when the movie ended, but they were already beyond the psychological horror.

I know it’s cliché to compare our (40 something’s) childhood to our kids, but this weekend made it more clear that kids today really are a little more jaded than I was.  Whether it be from television content, more intense video games, internet access to everything, round the clock doom and gloom news coverage, their small psyche’s have had to absorb, filter and deal with much more than I remember having to.

The moment the credits were done, we talked about their favorite parts and the special effects…they always like creative special effects.  Then they quickly moved on to requesting another movie viewing.  Now they want to see Alien.  That one is a little more intense, but I’m considering letting them watch it.  Part of me wants them to be scared like I was at these movies but part of me doesn’t want them to go through it.  Either way, I’m more than happy to sit and share the experience with them.  And if I’m “lucky” one of these days, I’ll have to deal with a couple kids who can’t sleep afterward.  If nothing else it taught me a lesson in not living vicariously through my kids, but instead to enjoy living with them.

RALSTON HAS SPOKEN

THAT IS ALL

You Say Potato, I Say Solanum Tuberosum

I had an interesting thought this week.  Why do we (read: I) care about other people’s practices?  I had this thought about religion specifically.  There are certainly many different ways to answer the question, but when it comes right down to it, it shouldn’t matter to me one way or the other how/why anyone observes their particular religion/philosophy/spirituality/etc.

For the record, I was raised catholic.  Church every Sunday until I was an “adult”, baptized, communion, CCD and confirmation.  Christmas was a birthday and Easter was a resurrection.  As soon as I was old enough to make my own decision, I was out.  I can’t put my finger on exactly when, but it was around the first time my parents didn’t force me to church when I was away at school.  As I grew and learned and formed an intelligent view of nature, the world and its people, there was a point when a bell went off in my head.  That bell signaled the end of organized religion in my life.  It didn’t make sense any more.  I grew out of it – thankfully.  I say thankfully, because I can’t imagine being one of the lemmings any longer.

Now hold on a second.  Before you start your hate mail because I just insulted you, consider that this is my choice.  Just because I see it as silly doesn’t mean it shouldn’t work for you.

For the longest time I viewed adults, especially those I would consider intelligent, who stuck to organized religion as sad, weak sheep.  But, in the spirit of live and let live, I think I could actually be wrong about that.  Not about the religion being bunk part, but in the looking down my nose part.  I understand how silly it is to believe in an all powerful god/creator and a virgin birth and resurrection.  But I suppose some people need to cling to that faith.  I can’t imagine why, but as long as they don’t try to force it on me or my family, why should I care?

I know it sounds like a simple thing, but coming to this acceptance wasn’t easy for me.  Respected friends and family fall into the above categories, and I don’t like thinking any of them as being so naïve or needy.  However, since I’m absolutely pro choice in all aspects of life I needed to let myself relax and allow others to do as they wish without judgment (when possible – hehe).  You may choose to have faith that there actually is a heaven where people go when they die.  That’s cool.  You may believe that we constantly come back as other beings for eternity.  OK.  I can’t prove otherwise, so until I can I guess wll just agree to disagree.

So as a shepherd to my sheep I say, “Go to you fields, graze as you like, where you like, when you like.  But don’t let anyone shear you while you’re out there.  At the end of the day we’ll all be together again in the barn.”

RALSTON HAS SPOKEN

THAT IS ALL

Quantity, not Quality

Quality time.  What a terrible concept.  Nothing like sending the message to your son that the fifteen minutes you spent having a catch make up for not having seen him in three days because you decided to work late one day, go drinking after work the next, and spent the next recovering before going back to work on Monday.  Better be careful; one day you’ll wake up as the character in a Harry Chapin song.

I can’t remember the first time I heard about spending quality time with someone.  I suppose I was just a kid, and it didn’t mean that much to me at the time.  I suspect that’s because I had two wonderful parents.  I won’t say that they didn’t have their own lives, but I honestly don’t think I was ever lacking for parental company.  Mom and dad were always there for me, even if it was to do nothing in particular.  For kids growing up seeing a parent whenever possible, and having quality time may have been the only option.  I have friends that were in that position.  Looking back I think that I never considered that odd, but perspectives change.  I wish for those friends that they could have been in the situation not to need quality, but had the chance to get quantity.  Sometimes that’s all it takes.

My boys and I spend a lot of time together.  Sometimes I’m sure they wish it wasn’t so much; but better that than grade school one day, then blinking only to find them going off to college.  We run the gambit of activities.  Sports, games (both video and board), family outings, etc.  All that, in some context, could be considered quality time.  However, trumping that quality is the other times when we do the most mundane things, whether that is to just sit and watch The Simpsons, hang out on the patio and read, or sit together and tackle some tricky homework.  Quantity time.  It's in these times we get to know each other.

Some of my fondest memories from a very early age are of doing nothing particularly special with my parents.  I remember walking through Berlin Park with my mom, and laying in the backyard one summer night with my dad and talking about the stars.  Not tantalizing, to be sure, but it made me feel good.  Made me start to realize, subconsciously, what it meant to be a good parent.  They continue even today.  Just this week I spent a few hours with dad smoking a cigar, playing chess and discussing gardening and some good books.  If your life is one in which these things didn’t (or don’t) happen, I sympathize. 

Maybe the best thing about Quantity Time is that it lets your kids know that they are special all the time.  I don’t want to discount a trip to an amusement park, or a big present, or tickets to a Phillies game.  These things are fantastic for everyone.  But think about it.  Eventually, if you only do things with the kiddies that are as much for you as for them, won’t they feel that their lives aren’t enough for you?  I might be reading too much into this one, but I think I’m on the right track.

Do nothing once in a while.  You’ll be surprised how often that nothing turns into a lasting memory for you and your child.  They don’t need to be constantly entertained.  Sometimes the best thing you can do is let them feel that dad is there.  Go out of your way to just be around more often than you think is required.  The minute you start to qualify the time you spend with your kids you start to qualify them as well.  Don’t do it.  They are too important.

That is all

Ralston Has Spoken

Two Paths Diverged...I Hope I Didn't Miss It

     This week’s lesson is actually a question to myself.  I wonder sometimes if my personal beliefs get in the way of me being the best parent I can be.  Does me sticking to my philosophical guns short change my kids sometimes?  The short answer is, of course, yes.  I suppose that means the complicated answer is maybe.  Now this is riveting stuff, I know, but bear with me.

     Upon reflecting on some events from the past several years, I actually find myself questioning the validity of some of the ways my kids are raised.  This doesn’t sit well with me because I like to think I’m doing a bang up job.  However, what if there is a better path?  Just because I happen not to believe something doesn’t mean it isn’t right for my kids.  After all, I have embraced things my parents would have dismissed.  I have shrugged off certain ideals that I know my parents held true.  And I turned out darn near perfect.

    This all started when my boys were cub scouts.  I actually think scouting is a pretty good organization, but I can’t get away from the overly Christian, quite homophobic attitudes that still permeate the whole group.  So I did nothing to keep my boys from leaving the order when they asked if they could.  A little part of me didn’t want them in that clan.  But they did meet new friends and had a relatively fun time while participating.  I suppose the fact that they lost interest on their own says that being involved in it wasn’t their particular cup of tea.  However, what if I gently nudged one of them to stick with it through Boy Scouts and onto Eagle Scout?  What if that decision would have opened up a life path that I cannot foresee, but would have truly been wonderful?

    A more current example would be our lack of involvement in the church, or rather any religious organization.  I simply don’t believe in it any longer.  I was raised Catholic.  And I don’t think there is anything actually wrong with the teachings of the church; do unto others, thou shalt not kill, and all that.  However, I personally think that organized religion is a joke.  Do I need a white robed Sheppard to tell me it’s bad to steal, or kill, or covet another’s wife?  Well, maybe the wife thing – I have some really hot friends, but come on.  So because of my personal beliefs my sons will need to make their own decision about religion when they are old enough to do that.

    I suppose that since I’m the parent it’s easy to say that I am always doing what is best for the kids.  But what I’m really doing is making them live by what I think is best for me.  And it’s not that I’m denying them the chance to do anything they express an interest in, or pushing them to hard toward things I may like.  My job as a parent is just to give them room to grow, to provide guidance when needed, to nurture interests, and to shape their philosophy.  I know they will be independent enough to mold their own set of values as they grow up, but that will start with the lump of ethical clay I provide.

    When it comes down to it, I realize that we all just try to give our children what they need as they need it and hope it’s the right stuff at the time.  This business of being responsible for another’s life just really gets my second-guessing juices flowing sometimes.  I don’t think I would changes the way I raise my kids, but I don’t think it hurts to ask “what if” sometimes.  What if certain experiences would be good for them in the long run but I’ve denied it because of my own personal beliefs?  What if my talent as a bass player (hehe) is what made my son choose the upright bass in the school orchestra when he was destined to play oboe instead?  What if I’m not pushing them enough in one area (athletics or chess or writing) because I want them to be well rounded, when they could go on to greater heights in one specific arena?  What if, what if, what if.  I drive myself nuts some days.

    I know this is not the definitive article you have come to know and love from this series.  Never fear.  I’ll be back to that soon enough.  Just wanted to let everyone out there know that I may have all the answers, and I be where you turn (rightly so) for advice on any number of topics, but I am after all human.  I’ll come to terms with this particular chink in my armor soon enough.  Until then…

RALSTON HAS SPOKEN

THAT IS ALL