Hard Questions

As Mr. Laura sat at the table this morning drawing pictures of monsters, he asked me the following question: "Why can't the president of one country meet with the president of another country and do 'Rock, Paper, Scissors' instead of BAM! BAM! Blow People Up?"

This question followed on the heels of a question asked by Mr. Laura earlier in the week. He seemingly out of the blue asked "Are there really many good reasons to join the army?" Apparently this question was prompted by an ad on the radio declaring that yes, in fact, there are many good reasons to join the army. I guess the ad had not quite convinced him so he was checking with me.

Both of these questions reminded me of a question Mr. Laura asked me a couple of years ago. We had just received our adoption referral for Mr. Garvey, Mary and Miss Almanzo. We were discussing some of the more difficult aspects of why some children no longer have parents and need to be adopted. We talked about Ethiopia being a poor country and what that means like the fact that many Ethiopians don't have enough food to eat on a daily basis nor do they have access to medicine or health care like folks do in wealthier countries such as the United States. To which he asked, "If we have these things and they really need them, why doesn't our country share with their country so children don't have to lose their moms and dads?"

How does one articulate the complexities of these issues to a 5 and 6 year old? How does one explain that the motives behind a person's or a nation's actions do not always arise from a desire to "do the right thing" like sharing, solving disputes peaceably, or respecting the sacredness and dignity of life in all its many forms and colors? How does one explain that it is more likely that a person's or a nation's actions is based on fear and prejudice or on acquiring and maintaining money, power, or control over limited natural resources? Instead of even attempting to explain most of this, I am opting to encourage the act of the questioning itself. There will be plenty of time in the years to come, when Mr. Laura is more mature, to delve into the not-so-easy answers to these hard questions. For now I'll help him develop this habit of questioning. The answers and solutions to the big issues of our times will never materialize if we, as a citizenry, adopt a "that's just the way things are" attitude instead of realizing we have the right and the duty to challenge the status quo, the "powers-that-be", and the hypocrisy (our own and that of others) of our times.

A Saturday in Pictures

They're Growing Like Weeds

Here is a picture taken in June of 2006. It had been about 2 weeks since Mr. Garvey, Mary, and Miss Almanzo arrived in the U.S. This is when they looked 3, 5, and 7. Mr. Edwards in this picture is 9 1/2.

Here is a picture taken yesterday afternoon, 15 months later.
Mr. Edwards is now 10 1/2 and Mr. Laura just about to turn 7. Mr. Garvey is now 1 inch taller than Mr. Edwards. Mary no longer looks like Mr. Laura's twin, however, Miss Almanzo is certainly poised to takeover that role. I'd say they look more like 5, 6, 8, 10, & 11.

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In other news, thanks to naturalmom for bestowing on me my very first ever blog award. I am often accused of being "too nice" by many of my firends, so it certainly seems to be a fitting award. I am however, completely uninitiated when it comes to how these awards work. Will there be a party in my honor? A cash prize? Will my name go down in the "Nice Matters" history books for all eternity? Will I have to give an acceptance speech? What happens if I have one of those "Not-so- nice" days? ;o)

A Sign of Autumn?

Our black lab, Thor, barks a lot. It is a character flaw that we have become pretty good at ignoring. His barking is mainly due to a misunderstanding, on his part, of property lines. He seems to think he owns our road and barks anytime any of the neighbors have the audacity to drive down the road we all share. One sure way to know that his barking requires our attention is when he is not only barking but running through the house frantically. Today, while we were getting lunch together, he began barking and running back and forth between the kitchen and the front door. I figured it was our mail lady delivering a package. I checked the drive but it was empty. We all went back to preparing lunch. Only Thor was not satisfied with the cursory attention we had given to his attempt to communicate something really important to us and would not settle down. I finally asked Mr. Garvey to check the front door to see if anyone was there. He came running back saying, "Hurry. Hurry. Come and see." Here's a picture of who we found at our front door just waiting for us to open up and let him in.

Of course being the nature lovers and homeschoolers that we are, we spent the rest of the afternoon trying to identify our guest. We think he/she is a juvenile, almost adult, rat snake. According to the description, they can grow to over 6 feet long and love, as their name implies, to dine on rodent. They are slow moving and when frightened will freeze often taking on a rippled posture. We also read that neonate Black Rat Snakes are the most frequently found snakes entering homes, usually in the early Fall or Spring. It has been so unbelievably HOT here for the last month that even I am willing to embrace this as a sign of Autumn - Come on in and make yourself comfortable!

An Interesting Thought to Consider

Mary: Can I tell you something?

Ma: Sure. What?

Mary: In Ethiopia we did not have mirrors. I never knew what I looked like.

Ma: Do you remember the first time you saw yourself in a mirror?

Mary: Yes

Ma: What did you think when you saw yourself?

Mary: It was fun. I thought I looked nice.

As I pondered this, I found it odd to think about living my life without ever knowing what I looked like. On the other hand, I find it to be a very liberating notion.

Random Bits of Mangled English

Mary has been creatively combining and mangling the words to two songs (Barney's "I Love You, You Love Me" and "This Old Man".) She has been singing it so much lately that I now catch myself singing it her way. It goes like this:

I love you, you love me.
We're a heavy family
With a great big knock knock on my door.
Won't you say you love me too.

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On Monday and Tuesday of this week, we were at my mom's house to take her to her radiation appointments. On the first night I decided to take Miss Almanzo and Mr. Laura with us. As we got into the car, Mr. Laura asked, "Now why are we taking Nana to a radio station?"

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When Mr. Edwards was a wee babe, Pa started referring to Mr. Edward's farts in the tub as motorboats. The name stuck and was quite useful especially when out in public. No one really knew what Mr. Edwards meant when he announced, "Oh no, I've got to motorboat!" With three boys between the ages of 6 and 10, the obsession and humor to be found with bodies and bodily functions is almost endless. They have created their own catalog of fart euphemisms. Here is a sampling "How do you like the radio station I just chose?", "Who turned on their radio.", "I just dropped a bomb.", "Somebody fired it.", and "Somebody's got the juice." When does this darling stage end?
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Hummingbird Saved by Mr. Laura

I have discussed in earlier posts here and here about the animal lover that Mr. Laura is and his desire to be a veterinarian one day. This morning Mr. Laura was inspired to try and save a tiny, barely alive hummingbird Mr. Garvey had found laying on the floor of our sunroom. He acted quickly and confidently. He carefully picked up the tiny bird and placed him outside on the deck. Next, Mr. Laura was back in asking to make sugar water to feed the bird. As I prepared the bowl of sugar water for him, I suggested that he move the bird to a shadier, cooler spot. I brought the bowl of sugar water out to where Mr. Laura had placed the bird and began pouring it onto the hummingbird's beak hoping some would find its way into his mouth. Nothing happened. I for one thought the bird looked too far gone to be revived. Mr. Laura thought otherwise. He took the bowl from me saying, "you need to put him inside the bowl not pour the water on him." He gently lifted the bird and placed him in the bowl. Within 5 seconds the bird sat bolt upright and began to drink the sugar water. A moment later he flew away full of life. Mr. Edwards, Mr. Garvey, Mary, Miss Almanzo and I cheered and clapped for the bird and congratulated Mr. Laura on a job well done. You should have seen the smile on his face as he said, "Wow, I really have saved my first animal. This is good practice for when I am a veterinarian." I'd say he is well on his way.

Two Conversations on Looking Your Age

A few weeks ago, as Mr. Garvey and I were walking together, we passed a man who did a double take. In the last year I have grown quite accustomed to stares, double takes, and puzzled looks. Folks are usually trying to "figure out" my family. Mr. Garvey, Mary, and Miss Almanzo are quite dark skinned. I, on the other hand, am of Scotch-Irish heritage. The question I am most asked about them when Pa is not with us is "are they mixed?" Based on their choice of question, it is apparent that their first assumption is that they are biracial only they can't seem to make sense of our two vastly different colorings. It is as if they are wondering how dark their father must be to have produced biracial children of such a dark color. So the question is usually asked in such a way as to let me know that they are a bit embarrassed and surprised that they are asking the question at all. When they find out that Mr. Garvey, Mary, and Miss Almanzo are from Ethiopia, I am usually met with sighs of relief and nodding heads. Yes, the world (at least as far as genetics is concerned) does still make sense after all. Now they can continue on with life as they thought it to be. Order is restored.

Anyways, I was all set to ignore this man who spun around to look at us again. I was stopped in my tracks when he called me by my name. After a few exchanges of pleasantries and no doubt a puzzled look on my face, he said, "You don't know who I am do you?" I replied, "I think we went to high school together, but I am still trying to figure out how you recognized me. It's been 23 years." He graciously replied, "You still look the same as you did in high school." To which I thanked him and told him he had just made my day. After a bit more catching up, we wished each other well and said goodbye.

A few days later I am running an errand for my mother. She has requested a certain type of lotion for her face. It reminds me of sending Pa out to buy coffee for me. I tell him that perfection for me would be "shade-grown, fair trade, organic, certified bird-sanctuary, swiss-process decaf and Ethiopian" but to please try and find one that matches at least three of those requirements. I now understand how he feels. I was completely overwhelmed with the choices for lotion. As Mary, Mr. Edwards, and I are standing there reading the different combinations of day/night, anti-wrinkle, beta-hydroxy, spf lotions, we are approached by a man who is obviously well-versed in the lotions. He soon has it narrowed down to two for us to choose from. I start to thank him, when the following exchange occurs.

Man: I bet you think that I look younger than you.

My thoughts go something like this: He looks about 55. No I am not thinking that he looks younger than me. I am actually thinking about how much I hate crowded big box stores and that I just want to get this lotion and get out of here. Before I can think of a way to end the exchange right here and now I hear myself talking.....

Ma: How old do you think I am?

Man: 38.

Ma: Close enough.

Man: Well how old do you think I am?

Ma:(being generous, I think) 48.

Man: (becoming very loud and hysterical and definitely making a scene) 48? Do I really look 48? That is 10 years older than I actually am. I'm 38! I'm 38! I'm 38! Everyone tells me I look 38.

Ma:(really wanting to extricate myself from this situation) I am so sorry. I am really terrible at guessing ages. I really should not have even attempted. I am sorry. I did not mean to upset you. Really I'm so sorry.

Man: (calming down) It's OK. I am not good at guessing ages either. Everyone really does tell me I look 38 though. The funny thing is that I am really 55 but everyone says that I look 20 years younger.

We finally go our separate ways, but I still keep thinking about how upset he got. He really did look to be in his 50's. Maybe in a different situation, he wearing something other than a t-shirt and shorts and far removed from the unforgiving fluorescent lights of a big box store, he would have indeed looked much younger. Obviously someone has told him that he looks very young for his age. He obviously treasures this revelation. In fact he treasures this news so much, that he actually believes that he is the younger age. He is insulted that I only shave 7 years off of his actual age. While I admit I was flattered by the long, lost high school friend of mine whose statement made my day, heck maybe even my whole year, I don't of course take it literally. He was being kind. He was making small talk.

And what is wrong with looking your age? I am determined not to waste any energy worrying about every new wrinkle, grey hair, or slowly but steadily southward bound body parts. I really don't want to miss out on what this stage of my life has to offer by hopelessly and desperately trying to recapture a bygone youth. Anyone else out there for aging gracefully?