LJ Idol Season 6 Week 2 - Not Just A Different Time
o/` "We were born to mothers who smoked and drank
Our cribs were covered in lead based paint
No child proof lids no seat belts in cars
Rode bikes with no helmets and still here we are, still here we are
We got daddy’s belt when we misbehaved
Had three TV channels you got up to change
No video games and no satellite
All we had were friends and they were outside, playin’ outside" o/`
-- A Different World" performed by Bucky Covington
Most weekends find us traveling to the local Wal-Mart at some point, either because we need a few items which don't warrant a full grocery run or simply for diversion. I look eagerly for the seasonal changes in stock, especially around Halloween and Thanksgiving. The deep autumn colors ---russets, rusts, olive green, burnished copper, bright yellow --- speak to me deeply of a season which never quite makes it to Florida. Adding bits and pieces each year, I decorate my home accordingly. Sometimes it's a set of place mats, other years the guest towels or a new quilt for the bed. I have cookie cutters shaped like leaves and pumpkins for my sugar or spritz cookies which I eagerly decorate with orange icing and colorful leaf sprinkles.
It's really a kind of therapy for me because I can roam the wide aisles, moving my chair under my own power. I get social interaction because people naturally want to talk to me and I have fun because it's a change of scenery. Of course, I can't call it 'free' because we usually end up buying more than we intended but those small purchases generally do make my life at home a brighter and more comfortable one.
I always visit the toy section. For various reasons, I wasn't able to save many of my childhood toys and I miss them. As an adult, with no one to scold me about buying them or to take them away from me, I began rebuilding my collection. Hasbro's My Little Pony has been one of my biggest weaknesses (I have two shelves full of ponies ranging from original 1980s models through last year's latest releases), along with classic board games and Barbies. I'm also partial to the baby dolls, the ones produced by Barenguer, which my friend conscience uses to make adorable one-of-a-kind horror themed babies. I've been looking for several with specific expressions which she will be using on a new project for me.
Wal-Mart seemed to have replaced most of the dolls with their own brand, which I was uncertain Mare could use, so I was making my way out of the section when I overheard a conversation. The parent in question was a tall African American man with an assortment of children of various ages, ethnicities, and genders in tow. Around here, that arrangement nearly always means the kids are part of a foster family...not terribly unusual, except for the way this man handled the squabbling going on about who was going to buy what toys and which toys would be bought.
Two of the older boys wanted a video game and the associated gaming station. This he vetoed immediately because they hadn't saved enough money for it and, he informed them, he knew if they borrowed the money from their brothers and sisters that the other kids would not get to play with it. He encouraged them to talk to the younger kids and find something they could all play with. The group decided that an assortment of outdoor toys would serve them better: Frisbees, hula hoops, a lawn bowling set, some Nerf guns with ammunition...and even an Easy Bake oven and some toy kitchen implement (on the condition that the boys get to eat some of what was fixed and the girls show them how the oven worked so they could make their own). Guided by this thoughtful parent, the kids came to their own agreements about distribution of funds, what would be bought, and how best to share the purchases --- no tantrums, no stomping of feet, no pouting. Furthermore, the toys were classics but healthy; the kids would spend more time building relationships and playing with one another than they would have sitting on a couch playing a violent video game.
Fox needed something in the electronics department and then left me there because he had to use the restroom. While I searched the DVDs for Clint Eastwood and John Wayne titles, I ended up an unwitting participant in another conversation. A loud, truculent voice broke just about pierced my ear drums: "But I want it, and you're going to buy it for me! I said so!" He --- it was a male child's voice ---addressed his mother by her first name and then called her something I'd only heard in very rough biker bars. Curious, I edged over to the next aisle and spotted the little monster. Maybe nine or ten, he was already twice what would have been a healthy weight. He had the pasty pinched look of someone used to getting his own way and who seldom exerts himself. He actually took a swing and pummeled his mother in the thigh several times. "All right," she sighed. "Just put it in the basket and we'll figure out how to pay for it." My jaw fell open in amazement as, still hurling abusive words at her, he added not only the game he'd asked for (some version or another of Guitar Hero) and the gaming station and all its accessories (which they evidently did not possess prior to purchase). I'll bet when the pair headed to check-out that she had at least seven hundred dollars' worth of merchandise in that basket.
Two sets of parents and their children, two sets of values; one, a once common approach to raising children now teetering on the brink of extinction, and the other a glittering artifact of the shining twenty-first century.
When I was growing up, nothing was just given to me. I had chores and an allowance as well as a system of rewards and consequences which were dependent on how well I did what had been asked of me. Even events like birthdays and holidays could be impacted by my good behavior or lack thereof. At the age of fifteen, I decided I needed a portable electric typewriter. I loved writing stories and having one would make it so much easier to keep clean copies, to submit them to magazines, and to organize my works. Portables (and that's using the term loosely because the danged thing would have been big enough to cover a medium sized end table, was made of cast iron, and weighed about twenty-five pounds) were a relatively new invention and expensive in and of themselves; I didn't want just any portable electric typewriter, either. I wanted one of the newer types with the revolving Daisy wheel heads.
I saved the first two weeks' worth of my allowance and then my Ma took me to Montgomery Ward. I picked out the exact portable electric I wanted, and we went to the customer service counter where we put it on lay-away. Lay-away, my Ma explained, would give me a deadline to work toward and would provide me with incentive not to waste the money on other things. It took me six months of good behavior, taking on additional chores, and picking up babysitting jobs but by the end of the summer I had my typewriter. It got me through the rest of high school and most of college before the advent of the computer made it unnecessary.
These are disappearing values from a different world; I sure wish that more parents would look back to their own roots and remember just how beneficial these values were. Newer isn't always better.
Our cribs were covered in lead based paint
No child proof lids no seat belts in cars
Rode bikes with no helmets and still here we are, still here we are
We got daddy’s belt when we misbehaved
Had three TV channels you got up to change
No video games and no satellite
All we had were friends and they were outside, playin’ outside" o/`
-- A Different World" performed by Bucky Covington
Most weekends find us traveling to the local Wal-Mart at some point, either because we need a few items which don't warrant a full grocery run or simply for diversion. I look eagerly for the seasonal changes in stock, especially around Halloween and Thanksgiving. The deep autumn colors ---russets, rusts, olive green, burnished copper, bright yellow --- speak to me deeply of a season which never quite makes it to Florida. Adding bits and pieces each year, I decorate my home accordingly. Sometimes it's a set of place mats, other years the guest towels or a new quilt for the bed. I have cookie cutters shaped like leaves and pumpkins for my sugar or spritz cookies which I eagerly decorate with orange icing and colorful leaf sprinkles.
It's really a kind of therapy for me because I can roam the wide aisles, moving my chair under my own power. I get social interaction because people naturally want to talk to me and I have fun because it's a change of scenery. Of course, I can't call it 'free' because we usually end up buying more than we intended but those small purchases generally do make my life at home a brighter and more comfortable one.
I always visit the toy section. For various reasons, I wasn't able to save many of my childhood toys and I miss them. As an adult, with no one to scold me about buying them or to take them away from me, I began rebuilding my collection. Hasbro's My Little Pony has been one of my biggest weaknesses (I have two shelves full of ponies ranging from original 1980s models through last year's latest releases), along with classic board games and Barbies. I'm also partial to the baby dolls, the ones produced by Barenguer, which my friend conscience uses to make adorable one-of-a-kind horror themed babies. I've been looking for several with specific expressions which she will be using on a new project for me.
Wal-Mart seemed to have replaced most of the dolls with their own brand, which I was uncertain Mare could use, so I was making my way out of the section when I overheard a conversation. The parent in question was a tall African American man with an assortment of children of various ages, ethnicities, and genders in tow. Around here, that arrangement nearly always means the kids are part of a foster family...not terribly unusual, except for the way this man handled the squabbling going on about who was going to buy what toys and which toys would be bought.
Two of the older boys wanted a video game and the associated gaming station. This he vetoed immediately because they hadn't saved enough money for it and, he informed them, he knew if they borrowed the money from their brothers and sisters that the other kids would not get to play with it. He encouraged them to talk to the younger kids and find something they could all play with. The group decided that an assortment of outdoor toys would serve them better: Frisbees, hula hoops, a lawn bowling set, some Nerf guns with ammunition...and even an Easy Bake oven and some toy kitchen implement (on the condition that the boys get to eat some of what was fixed and the girls show them how the oven worked so they could make their own). Guided by this thoughtful parent, the kids came to their own agreements about distribution of funds, what would be bought, and how best to share the purchases --- no tantrums, no stomping of feet, no pouting. Furthermore, the toys were classics but healthy; the kids would spend more time building relationships and playing with one another than they would have sitting on a couch playing a violent video game.
Fox needed something in the electronics department and then left me there because he had to use the restroom. While I searched the DVDs for Clint Eastwood and John Wayne titles, I ended up an unwitting participant in another conversation. A loud, truculent voice broke just about pierced my ear drums: "But I want it, and you're going to buy it for me! I said so!" He --- it was a male child's voice ---addressed his mother by her first name and then called her something I'd only heard in very rough biker bars. Curious, I edged over to the next aisle and spotted the little monster. Maybe nine or ten, he was already twice what would have been a healthy weight. He had the pasty pinched look of someone used to getting his own way and who seldom exerts himself. He actually took a swing and pummeled his mother in the thigh several times. "All right," she sighed. "Just put it in the basket and we'll figure out how to pay for it." My jaw fell open in amazement as, still hurling abusive words at her, he added not only the game he'd asked for (some version or another of Guitar Hero) and the gaming station and all its accessories (which they evidently did not possess prior to purchase). I'll bet when the pair headed to check-out that she had at least seven hundred dollars' worth of merchandise in that basket.
Two sets of parents and their children, two sets of values; one, a once common approach to raising children now teetering on the brink of extinction, and the other a glittering artifact of the shining twenty-first century.
When I was growing up, nothing was just given to me. I had chores and an allowance as well as a system of rewards and consequences which were dependent on how well I did what had been asked of me. Even events like birthdays and holidays could be impacted by my good behavior or lack thereof. At the age of fifteen, I decided I needed a portable electric typewriter. I loved writing stories and having one would make it so much easier to keep clean copies, to submit them to magazines, and to organize my works. Portables (and that's using the term loosely because the danged thing would have been big enough to cover a medium sized end table, was made of cast iron, and weighed about twenty-five pounds) were a relatively new invention and expensive in and of themselves; I didn't want just any portable electric typewriter, either. I wanted one of the newer types with the revolving Daisy wheel heads.
I saved the first two weeks' worth of my allowance and then my Ma took me to Montgomery Ward. I picked out the exact portable electric I wanted, and we went to the customer service counter where we put it on lay-away. Lay-away, my Ma explained, would give me a deadline to work toward and would provide me with incentive not to waste the money on other things. It took me six months of good behavior, taking on additional chores, and picking up babysitting jobs but by the end of the summer I had my typewriter. It got me through the rest of high school and most of college before the advent of the computer made it unnecessary.
These are disappearing values from a different world; I sure wish that more parents would look back to their own roots and remember just how beneficial these values were. Newer isn't always better.