The Arrogance of My Youth...And What I Hope Happens from Here on Out...

Ever seen the following quote from Mark Twain, or something similar?

"When I was ten, I thought my parents knew everything. When I became twenty, I was convinced they knew nothing. Then, at thirty, I realized I was right when I was ten."

These last few days I have been kind of thinking along those lines. Being over 50 now, I can look back and say that the quote is very, very true. At least mostly. Granted, no one, including parents, knows everything. That is a given. But as teens and into our 20's, it seems that we silly humans seem to think that life experience means nothing. This is so shown in the things we might have said back then, and can still hear from the youth today.  Things like,

"They have no idea what its like to be young here and now"

"They will never understand because they are not me."

"They need to quit trying to tell me what to do because things are so different today."

Things like that. I know I said similar things a lot. These days I think maybe too much. It is true that our parents grew up in a different time than we did, just as my kids and grand kids are growing up in a different time than me. What I have started to realize is that the details change, but the underlying strands of life are very similar. Contrary to popular belief of the current generation of youth.

Since the passing of my mother a couple of months ago, I am starting to realize what I have lost. A treasure trove of information and life experience that I had literally at my beck and call. I felt the same way when my father died in back in 1986, but I was IN that arrogant period at the time. I had just turned 22 when he died. I thought there was no way my parents could ever know or understand my situation, so I just let it slide thinking my Mom would be there when and if I needed her. . . and it kept on sliding and sliding and sliding until that trove of information that included the tiny little details of my life and my family was gone. Literally. And it only took me 30 years and mom's death to realize it. How silly and sad and totally stupid is that? There is so so so much I could have learned had I quit taking myself so seriously thinking they could never understand or fathom things. Could have thought that maybe, just maybe, my parents had gone through some of the same things I was going through and might have a little insight that could be useful. Maybe be able to shed some light. Look at things from an angle I'd never thought about. Explained how they handled a similar situation. Or even just sat back and listened and acted as a sounding board with some sage advice thrown in here and there. Due to what I consider my own self-centered stupidity and blindness, I had to wait until my parents died before I figured that out. All that knowledge and history and details of MY life from even before I was born. . . Gone. How very sad.

I am sure that my parents felt the same way I do now, but I was too blinded my my own self to see it.

I wish and hope that our kids know that they can come and talk with us, myself and my wife, together or individually. I hope they know they can pick our brains and ask questions and get advice about pretty much anything. And I DO mean advice, not rules and regulations and orders to do this or that. All of our kids are basically grown-ups now. Our youngest is going to be 18 in the not too distant future, the oldest is over 30. I hope all of them realize that, even though we grew up in a different time, a lot of the lessons we learned can be used by them today, at least in some form. I am sure of that. What I am afraid of is that if they do ask us questions and we give them the answers that are from our heart and our experiences, that they will look at that as us preaching at them, or telling them how they should react, or telling them what they should do, or something like that. That isn't how we work. Honestly, the answers might sound preachy sometimes. Especially if the question or situation we are talking about is an especially deep one. Questions about things like love, relationships, kids, sex, money. . . the deeper issues that can cause the deepest hurt and the biggest scars. Pain points and scars that we have inside us from situations similar to theirs. Situations that sometimes might be hard for us to put into words for any number of reasons. Ones that may still move us to tears or fits of laughter or a bright blush. Maybe even, in some cases, talking around wounds that are still trying to heal within us. That mixed with the protectiveness that we possess because we are their parents might make it sound like we are preaching or dictating, but honestly we aren't. We want what is best for our kids. We want them to make their own decisions, but we also try to keep them from having the same hurts and scars that we might have. The parent in us makes us sound preachy and bossy but we are not trying to be. We are just trying to warn them what could be coming and hopefully keep them from getting hurt.

There is a lot of truth in the saying, "When a child hurts, the parent hurts." As I've gotten older I have come to realize that the reverse is what we as parents are trying to head off. We do NOT want to say, "When a parent hurts, a child hurts."

The thing I am trying to get at is this. . . Those of you that are younger, open the lines of communication with your parents (and grandparents if you are lucky enough to still have them around). Ask questions. Get advice. Ask if they had similar situations and then LISTEN to what they have to say. Take and move on what you feel you can and file the rest away for future reference. You might find that somewhere along the way your parents share a lot of similar feelings and memories and situations as you have, even if the timing was different. Don't miss out on the possibility of getting any questions answered or just to get information about you and your family. . . Those of you in the older generations, listen too. Offer advice, impart experience and assist any way you can, but don't order around or preach. Let your children find their own way using your knowledge and experience as a guide. Be a TEAM, not just a bunch of individuals that think you know what is happening and nothing else matters. Work and discover together. You won't regret it.

I wish I had done that. . .

Love, light, and live long and prosper!

Beliefs

Beliefs. We all have them. Even if you say you have no beliefs, that in itself is a belief. You believe that you don't believe.

There are different types of beliefs. For the purposes of this entry, its more like there are different beliefs by ages. Rest easy. I am going to stay away from the belief in God for the time being. That would make an entire post of its own and may be hit upon sometime later on down the line. Besides, I'm not the type to try to convert people or force my beliefs on them. I have my beliefs, you have yours. As long as you respect me and mine, I will do the same for you. I just wanted to talk a little about beliefs in general and how I see them. Maybe you will agree, maybe not. Maybe it will take a look at them in a way you never thought of. Who knows. That being said, here we go...

As a child, I had all the "common" beliefs, at least as I think relates to an average American child born in the mid-1960's. Most of these were learned beliefs from my parents and family. Things like the Easter Bunny, the Tooth Fairy, and Santa Claus. Of course there were others, but those come to mind first and show brightest in my mind. As younger children, we trust our parents and family implicitly. What they tell us is how it is. Period. Being that young we don't know anything other than those people take care of us, feed us, clothe us, teach us, love us... So what they tell us must be true, right? Then we wake up every year to chocolate eggs and candy given to us by a bunny around Easter, and money from a fairy for our teeth as we lose them.

Then there is Santa... This is the one I will tend to center for now. The belief in Santa Claus was/is the ultimate for me. A happy, jolly, nice man living at the North Pole with his wife and an army of elves who make toys and love all children and keep an eye on them all year long. Every Christmas he rewards the ones that are good with presents they write to him and ask for, and the bad ones get sticks and rocks and coal. In my house we set out cookies and milk for Santa to eat and drink (and put out some carrots for his reindeer when we had them, if not I would add a few extra cookies. Reindeer like cookies too, right?). Every year on Christmas Eve we would have family gatherings and eat and drink and be together and laugh and play and tell stories and do all the things that I hold so dear in the deepest parts of myself and my memories. Then, on the morning of the 25th of December I would get up and the cookies and drink would be gone and I would have several new toys and things scattered throughout the living room. I'd been good enough to get rewarded with things I'd asked Santa for in my yearly letter to him. This happened every year without a miss. As I got older I enjoyed the Christmas season. The decorations, the extra laughter and seeing more of the family than what might have been usual, the way many people seemed to be happier and maybe a little more friendly than usual. Hearing "Merry Christmas" as opposed to just "goodbye" when you were leaving someplace. There was even more music around than usual. As I got older I noticed more and more and started adding to what I was able to do during the season, like shopping for presents for others, helping decorate, learning the holiday songs, and licking the bowls for the Christmas goodies that always seemed to be made.

Sidebar here...To this day, I still miss my Grandma's Christmas Cookie Boxes. Every year she would make a foil lined shoe box full of home made Christmas Cookies for each of her four boys and take them to their houses so we could all enjoy them. Several different kinds of cookies, all in the same box. Sugar cookies with all manner of sprinkles, peanut butter cookies, chocolate cookies made with oatmeal, little round ball-shaped cookies, among other types. It was a Christmas tradition that she kept up until she passed away. Ah the memories and the smiles they bring... Ok, sidebar concluded. Thanks for the indulgence there.

When I was five, my sister arrived. That changed my view somewhat. Not majorly, but it did change it. Suddenly there were little baby things around the tree again and my sister was getting a lot of attention. As a 5-year old that had been an only child up until that time, I did not understand, but my parents talked to me about it. They explained that she was a baby and needed more attention from them because she couldn't do anything for herself yet. She would need my help too, they said. I was now a big brother and that meant that I had certain responsibilities. They also explained that Santa would still come every year and that he would bring stuff for us both. That was understandable to my 5-year old skull full of mold-able clay. In fact I tried to help all I could. Whether that was actually a help or not, I never asked. I always hope it helped, even in a very small way. More than helping though, it allowed me to understand more about the belief and how it worked. Plus, as I got older I was starting to question things. How could Santa be at every store at the same time? Why did he sound different every time? Why did I have to keep telling him what I wanted for Christmas? I sent him a letter so he should already know, right? I also was noticing that I was starting to get more things I could actually use and fewer toys and playthings. Clothes, shoes, coats. Things like that. I also was noticing that my folks were getting very little from Santa. I knew they had not been bad, that made me wonder too. Plus I had been hearing rumors at school about this particular belief. So, at some point (the age or time I am not sure of at all), I asked my parents if Santa was real. To this day I can remember what they told me. I was told that if I wanted to believe in Santa I definitely could. It was up to me to believe or not. At that point, my thinking changed. Santa was not a person. Santa was a mindset. It was a way of looking at the world in a more positive way and seeing the good in everything and smiling more and being nicer and decorating and gathering with family and friends and creating memories. It was about making others happy and seeing and feeling smiles and happiness and love. Presents were all well and good and I loved getting them, hell I STILL love it (and I still love to get toys more than anything else, its just my definition of toys has evolved somewhat). To steal a few lines from a movie, it is the one time each year that we are the people we wish we could be all the time.

So do I believe in Santa? Yes I do. I never stopped believing. I believe in what Santa represents and what he means to people and how he and his actions might help others act and interact. Do I believe Santa is a true flesh and blood person? I think that he may have been at one time, but I think he is no longer with us in a physical sense. The same general feeling goes to a large majority of my childhood beliefs. So I still believe, but the belief has changed how it looks from the mind of a young boy to the mind of a 50+ year old man.

By the way, on the chance that Santa or any of the other of my childhood beliefs are actually real, I hope that my belief and the descriptions above is enough. If not, please contact me and I will do all I can to make it right.  ;)

Love, light, and live long and prosper!

Welcome into my Mind... How scary for you!

Hello everyone!  Welcome to the mental scraps from inside my mind. This is where I put all the thoughts and stuff that I couldn't find a really good place for at the time they crossed my mind. You can look at it as like the junk drawer everyone has in their home somewhere. Or maybe a drawer where we write down things and just put them away for future reference or whatever. Why not, right?

These thoughts may be disjointed, make no sense to you, make you laugh, make you wonder, and maybe even make you stop and think for a moment. Be aware that what I put in here are what I think about. Maybe you will get a glimpse into how I think. How scary for you... Be afraid, very afraid!

In any event, I will be posting in the near future whenever the thought strikes, so keep an eye out and enjoy!

Oh, by the way, comments are always welcome.