Some Ordinary Thoughts

Our five-year-old is a delightful child. Polite, considerate, joyful. Most of the time. When he gets angry, he gets defiant and destructive. He tries to hurt. And sometimes he hurts himself. He almost immediately regrets his actions and feels bad, but he continues to make impulsively damaging decisions when emotional.

This morning I was in the bathroom when he opened the door, squeezed in, and rushed to the mirror with his bangs held between the two blades of a pair of scissors. Worried he was being rash, I began yelling, "No! No! No!"

He quickly backed out and I yelled after him, "Don't do it!"

My wife showed up a moment later and said he had her permission. He had asked her and she had said, as she often does in these moments, "It's your body, it's your choice."

I followed her out into the living room and asked him to confirm. He did. I apologized for yelling at him and said his mom was right. He explained he just wanted a lock of hair to put in a bag as a memento for the future, holding it up to show me. His mom then explained he decided he wanted to be bald and she told him he could cut it all off tomorrow if he spent a day and a night thinking about it carefully and trying to come up with reasons he might regret it.

I then apologized again, saying I was sorry for yelling and for reacting before I had done all of my research to fully understand the situation.

I am grateful every day to have the parenting partner I do. Not only do we mesh, with similar styles, values, and philosophies, we communicate, are respectful to each other, and learn from each other.

This anecdote models two of the big strategies she has brought to our family: Your body, your choice, and Do your research.

From the start, she's told our boys it's your body, it's your choice as a way to model consent for them. If it's not harmful, they can make their own choices about their clothes, hair, and fashion (not, however, hygiene). They don't have to let other people hug or touch them if they choose not to, and should always ask before imposing touch on others. We hope they will transfer these ideas to other moments of consent when they are older.

And when they get upset, start complaining or yelling about a decision or situation--often due to making wrong assumptions in the process--she tells them to calm down and do your research. Don't get upset until you actually know you have a valid reason to be upset. Gather information first. Listen to the other person and their perspective. Fully understand the situation. Don't just immediately fly off the handle about imagined injury or injustice. (Looking at you, social media.)

Both are wonderful strategies. And, in this instance, I tried to do my part modeling them back to him plus another, that of admitting when wrong and apologizing--particularly important with the power dynamic involved, showing one is never too powerful to be wrong or beg pardon. We all make mistakes, but when we do we should take responsibility and do our best to correct the situation.

We have never sat down and explicitly strategized these methods--I haven't any way, and I haven't seen her do so--but they have emerged with practice and reflection. Every day I am grateful they have and that we are in this journey together.

I've previously written on this blog how I appreciate her simple strategy for encouraging a growth mindset:

Yet.

One of my favorite bits of my wife's parenting is the way she is teaching the boys to say "yet." Most specifically, at the end of statements that begin with "I can't." Don't say "I can't do it," say "I can't do it YET." It's not an absolute, but a temporary point in your growth.

Best of all, it's not just for kids, but for all of us.

Also, our seven-year-old, after feeling tempted for a while, decided to shave bald for the start of kindergarten, and we let him. I'm not sure he's had a trim since, and now has lovely, flowing locks.

I sometimes wonder if I should make a more intentional effort to talk explicitly and strategically with our boys about values we hope to pass on. It certainly happens organically, through daily interactions as we respond to situations, as illustrated above, and through many conversations as topics crop up. But we rarely just sit down and say, "Today we're going to talk about XXXXX." I think letting it happen organically makes the lessons more connected, relevant, natural, and meaningful, but I'm sure there must be holes and blind spots that don't come up that way.

I remember once, after I had become an adult, my dad saying to me, "I see you've become a liberal . . . " before broaching a topic related to what he had seen. I don't remember what it was or the circumstances, but I remember being surprised at his hesitation and awkwardness at starting the conversation. We had never talked before about politics or explicit values like that and he honestly hadn't been sure what I believed before then, even though he and my mom were both liberal and I was very much shaped by them and ended up with similar beliefs. I don't want my sons to have a comparable experience.

One of the others ways I gently share my values with my kids is through the books I choose to bring home from the library to read to them.

We recently read An Ordinary Day by Elana K. Arnold, illustrated by Elizabet Vukovic.

"It was an ordinary day in the neighborhood," it begins, then describes some of the activities of some of the residents who are in their front yards. They remain oblivious to the happenings in the two houses across the street. Each "sat unusually quiet."

"Almost at the same time, a car pulled up to each." Each house is illustrated on one page of the spread, and the book goes on to describe in parallel the events that occur. Someone with a stethoscope and little bag gets out of each car and quietly slips inside. "The street seemed to forget about them entirely."

Inside each house, a family is quietly gathered. Music plays, "soft and without too many words." One, tearful, is gathered around an old dog; one, smiling, is gathered around a pregnant tummy. Each doctor does an exam and proclaims, "She is ready." Procedures follow, with the neighbors oblivious. "In the house on the left, a final breath was exhaled, surrounded by family and love. And in the house on the right, a first breath was inhaled, surrounded by family and love."

It concludes: "A moment passed, a moment in which the visitors, the families, the street, and the world shifted. It was an ordinary day in the neighborhood. It was an extraordinary day in the neighborhood. Like all days, and in all neighborhoods, everywhere."

It is a wonderful book, lovely and gentle. I love how it subtly teaches a message about perspective. When you are experiencing something horrible, others are doing the opposite, and still others are oblivious; and, also, every ordinary moment of your life others are having life changing experiences. You won't know unless you look, ask, and listen. No moral at the end is necessary because the book embodies it.

Way back in the earlyish days of social media I followed a blogger who called herself The Annoyed Librarian, and I would sometimes debate with her (this was back when it was mostly safe to read the comments). I mentioned her a few times in the earlyish days of this blog, then later (2011) remembered those exchanges in this post:

Thoughts on Trolling, Part II

I haven't engaged or even read her in a long time, but I take perverse pride in the fact that the Annoyed Librarian, of all people, once held me up as a prime example of civil debate:

Just out of courtesy, let's try to avoid ad hominem attacks. For the record, I may disagree with many of you, and some of you, like Degolar, I've disagreed amicably with on a number of occasions. But my disagreement with people on particular issues doesn't mean I think they're stupid. I try, though I don't always succeed, to focus on ideas and not personalities. Of course that could be because I don't have a personality.

In the comments here.

I mention it mostly as a reminder to myself that, as hard as it can be, amicable disagreement is possible on social media. Like everyone, I often make the mistake of not doing my research and jumping to outraged reactions, and of making my own posts that are inflammatory reactions to situations and events. It's a constant battle to remember to slow down, listen, learn, and reflect before responding in a reasonable manner.

Things online have been particularly heated lately. Riotous mobs invading the Capitol building can provoke that. I've been trying to find the balance behind appropriately heated responses and still leaving room for discourse with those on the other side of things. I don't engage in much actual discourse across the aisle, but I try not to alienate and I appreciate seeing just enough opposing viewpoints in my feed to try to understand what they are thinking. I try to make sure my silo has a few windows in it.

Here's a post I appreciate from someone I knew in high school who friended me on Facebook not too long ago:

Copied this from a friend....He Nailed it!

Timeline of political despair: 

1992- Clinton wins election and Republicans say it’s the end of America as we know it. 

2000- Bush wins election and Democrats say it’s the end of America as we know it. 

2008- Obama wins election and Republicans say it’s the end of America as we know it.

2016- Trump wins election and Democrats say it’s the end of America as we know it. 

2020- Biden wins election and Republicans say it’s the end of America as we know it. 

The reality is that we will all survive and America will not become a socialist nation.  Policies will change for at least four years, tax rates will change for at least four years, etc.  That’s it. There will not be some magical conversion that eliminates the fact that we are a democracy.  The best damned democracy in the world.  

The difference in the last two elections and others prior to them is that everyone spreads despair on social media, and American citizens buy into it.  We believe the gloom and doom.  We believe that nothing will ever be the same.  We believe that we will have a dictatorship or a socialist takeover.   

If you don’t like the results of an election, do more to change the results in the next one.  Hint- doing more doesn’t mean post more political crap on social media.  It means volunteer for the party the you support.  Help encourage good candidates to run for office.  Or take a huge leap and run for a political office. Be a catalyst for REAL change. 

In the meantime, concentrate on your family, your hobbies and your friendships (or what’s left of them after social media bantering).  Concentrate on the things that are a hell of a lot more important than politics.  

Live.  Love.  Laugh.  Learn.

I left a comment and we had the following exchange:

Me: Thank you from the other end of the political spectrum. It's nice to know we can disagree about some things and still be reasonable and respectful about it.

Him: I am a conservative but I am also more importantly an American. We cannot govern on the fringes. It will not work. BOTH political parties have to meet in the middle; give and take. Reagan did it with Tip O’Neal so it can be done.

Me: I completely agree. I've said before, even as I work for it, the government shouldn't represent everything I personally believe because I'm too far to the left and that wouldn't be fair to everyone else in my community (which is what I consider the whole country).

(For an example of where I stand, here's some of the work I'm involved in. In addition to the work with students, I've created/written a lot of the content for the website: https://www.raceprojectkc.com/)

Him: I will check it out

Also I believe conservatives get a bad rap sometimes. For example, treatment courts. I work in a Republican ran county and we have one of the strongest treatment courts in the state. In addition, We (leaders) work together to combat substance use disorder and mental illness through treatment and services. So conservatives embrace progressive ideals if they work.

I am glad you are getting involved and attempting to create change/awareness in your communities.

I appreciate the post and conversation. I agree with the overall sentiment, though not every bit of it. Before the election I even commented on one of the posts from the most extreme right person in my feed (he's full Q) that we need to remember we are arguing about details and have the same basic values and beliefs. But the statement needs a bit of nuance. We did recently come closer to doom and gloom than is comfortable and things are not yet settled. The attack on the Capitol building proves that. And policies sometimes do have life-or-death impact, especially for minorities and those on the margins. Fighting for change in those instances can mean more than elections and protests are important. I espouse nonviolent means for myself, though I can't make a blanket statement for everyone.

This is important.

The Police’s Tepid Response To The Capitol Breach Wasn’t An Aberration

As images from Wednesday’s riot by pro-Trump extremists at the U.S. Capitol filled our TV screens and social media feeds, one thing was notably absent: the kind of confrontation between police and protesters that we saw during the Black Lives Matter protests last summer. Even though the Capitol mob was far more violent — and seditious — than the largely peaceful BLM demonstrators, police responded far less aggressively toward them than toward BLM protesters across the country. Researchers who track this sort of thing for a living say that fits a pattern. . . . 

The discrepancies we saw Wednesday are just another example of a trend Kishi’s team has been tracking for months as they collect data on protester and law enforcement interactions across America. “We see a different response to the right wing,” she said. . . . 

Between May 1 and November 28, 2020, authorities were more than twice as likely to attempt to break up and disperse a left-wing protest1 than a right-wing2 one. And in those situations when law enforcement chose to intervene, they were more likely to use force — 34 percent of the time with right-wing protests compared with 51 percent of the time for the left. . . . 

The differences in intervention weren’t because BLM protests were particularly violent. ACLED found that 93 percent of the protests associated with BLM were entirely peaceful. “Even if we were to put those [7] percent of demonstrations aside and look purely at peaceful [BLM protests], we are seeing a more heavy handed response [compared with right-wing protests],” Kishi said.

This data is new and limited, but it is in keeping with long-documented biases in how police think about and treat Black people compared with white people, and with research that shows police and military personnel overlapping significantly with the same far-right groups they treat preferentially.

It is also in keeping with how different groups of protesters perceive the situation themselves, Maguire said. In his years spent traveling to protests and embedding in crowds to observe and document police and protester interactions, he has interviewed protesters extensively. “Protesters on the left virtually universally believe that police are rougher on them. And protesters on the right almost universally believe police are on their side,” Maguire said.

Both a current event and a historic dynamic.

I give myself a steady diet of information like the above, books, articles, and updates on the world's injustices, in the hopes of being more aware and informed and of figuring out things I might do make the world a little bit better. One of my strategies for preventing compassion fatigue is trying to balance it with a diet of more inspiring fare. I don't generally blog books until I've finished them, but I want to share the prologue from The Book of Delights by Ross Gay. I just started it and so far have been reading just one or two "delights" every day or so. I think the practice he describes here is one anyone can adopt at anytime.

One day last July, feeling delighted and compelled to both wonder about and share that delight, I decided that it might feel nice, even useful, to write a daily essay about something delightful. I remember laughing to myself for how obvious it was. I could call it something like The Book of Delights.

I came up with a handful of rules: write a delight every day for a year; begin and end on my birthday, August 1; draft them quickly; and write them by hand. The rules made it a discipline for me. A practice. Spend time thinking and writing about delight every day.

Because I was writing these essayettes pretty much daily (confession: I skipped some days), patterns and themes and concerns show up. For instance, I traveled quite a bit this year. I often write in cafes. My mother is often on my mind. Racism is often on my mind. Kindness is often on my mind. Politics. Pop music. Books. Dreams. Public space. My garden is often on my mind.

It didn't take me long to learn that the discipline or practice of writing these essays occasioned a kind of delight radar. Or maybe it was more like the development of a delight muscle. Something that implies that the more you study delight, the more delight there is to study. A month or two into this project delights were calling to me: Write about me! Write about me! Because it is rude not to acknowledge your delights, I'd tell them that though they might not become essayettes, they were still important, and I was grateful to them. Which is to say, I felt my life to be more full of delight. Not without sorrow or fear or pain or loss. But more full of delight. I also learned this year that my delight grows--much like love and joy--when I share it.

I don't write a journal like he did, but I have this blog and my phone's camera and try to do something similar with my awareness, if less disciplined.