Safety, then and now.

Lessons on safety and personal protection have evolved quite substantially since 1970. Today, school age children are visited by local law enforcement every year to be disciplined in the new gospel of "stranger danger" and personal safety. In "my day" (ha ha) if law enforcement appeared any where near our school it was largely due to the fact that one of the nuns tripped the convent alarm accidentally and the officer was simply there to "check things out". Today, officers and security guards are evident in just about every school. And this is a sad testament indeed to the society our children are facing. A society that causes parents to fear the world in which they live and to scrutinize every detail of the child's day to be certain they are truly being safeguarded while under the care of an educator. My parents never thought twice about where we were, who lived in our neighborhood, or what sort of people were lurking about in the hedgerow. They had a different faith in mankind and in the humanity of people in general. One which never included the requisite obligation that they stand vigilant over us even as we played in our own backyard - for they never feared that anyone was capable of yanking us from our homes, our neighborhood or our safe environments. Or even if they did, they certainly never showed it or drilled it into our head to never stray too far from them, as most parents are apt to do now.

My mother told me a story once where in the early sixties mothers would park their prams (big giant sleeper carriages) OUTSIDE the entrance of Woolworth's (a local five and dime) - and get this - AND LEAVE THEIR INFANT CHILD THERE while they meandered around and shopped for a bit. The store was two stories and had no means to accommodate getting the prams to the upper floor. If any baby started fussing or crying in their absence, a woman passing by would instinctively rock the pram quite gently and coo at the baby until he quieted back down. Imagine a scene like this today with baby joggers and strollers and carriages parked along the glass entrance way to Macy's or Bloomie's. If the baby was even there when she returned, the mother who did this today would return to find a social worker with a look of scorn on her face holding her child and an armed police officer reading her her Miranda Rights for the offense of child endangerment and neglect. And my mother's story, her experience really, occurred only forty-three years ago. Hard to believe.

Even my mother's admonishments to me in my youth regarding "safety" were vastly different from that which I impart upon my own children -vastly, hugely, great crevasse-type differences. Shall we?

The Ice Cream Man
My Mom Then: "Be sure to wait until the ice cream man completely stops before stepping off the curb."

Me Now: "Mommy doesn't buy ice cream from that ice cream man. See those tattoos all down his arm and that tear drop tattoo right by his eye? Well that means he's killed someone, he's been to jail, and he's trying to sell you crack. Don't go near these ice cream men, they are drug dealers. I don't care if they have the bestest ice cream ever. I don't care if they have the Sponge Bob Square Pants one. Aren't you listening? He's bad I tell you. They're all bad. What do you mean, what's crack? Didn't they talk to you about this in school yet? Gawd, what am I paying that school for?"

Halloween
My Mom Then: "Here's a pillow case for your treats. Stick together and try to be back before it gets really dark." (Because back in the 70's you know, there were two darks: dark and really dark. It mattered that we were allowed out until "really dark". That was big stuff.)

Me Now: "Okay kids, let's stick together now. We are only going to these 10 houses because we know these people really well. What do you mean why? Because if we go to a house we don't know, they may be evil and stick razors in your candy. Oh! Which reminds me, no one eat any candy until Mommy has inspected it all. What's inspected? Oh, it means, checked it out....No I'm not going to eat your candy!.....What? No, Mommy just needs to make sure your candy wrappers are all on your candy. What's that? Why is Mommy holding a can of mace and a baseball bat? Oh, that's because Mommy is going as a TAA Baggage Security person this year and these are the items that you are no longer allowed to carry on an airplane. So Mommy is pretending she's just confiscated these items to give her costume the full effect. What? Yes, Mommy also said it was to beat that Rottweiler with in case it tried to attack us. But that was before when I wanted to be a dog catcher for Halloween."

Giving Directions To a Passerby or Helping a Neighbor Driving Through the Neighborhood Looking For Their Lost Pet
My Mom Then: "Honey, why don't you just hop in the car and show this nice gentleman where he can find Fido."

Me Now: "Okay kids, we are going to go over the (air quotes) safety drill. If some pervert, I mean person stops their car and tries to say they lost their pet, they have nice candy, or your Mommy has been in a terrible accident and she wants you to get in the car so that they can take you to the hospital to see her, what do you do?......What do you mean you help them find their pet? What? No! You don't go near the car to ask them what kind of candy! What!!! OMG! No! You don't get in the car to see Mommy in the hospital...No, baby, I'm not hurt. No, stop crying. Mommy doesn't have to go to a hospital. We're pretending here, stay with me. First! Don't EVER trust them. Why would they need a little kid to help them find their pet? All animals today have microchips under their fur and all pet owners have GPS systems in their cars to track them down - it's required of all pet owners. Remember, they are lying to you. So run! Run away from the car. No, not at this second, I mean if it happens. Anyway, run and scream for Mommy to help you and don't stop until you're with me. Second, if they are trying to give you candy - run! They are really mean dentists and they give out the most sugary candy ever so that your teeth will rot right out of your head and you'll be forced to go to a dentist who takes pleasure out of yanking little kids teeth out. Third. What? No, not all dentists are bad, just the ones who drive up in their car and try to give you candy. Not to worry. All the Moms know which dentists are the good guys and only take the kids there. Okay, third. If someone other than a family member tries to tell you that I have sent them because I've been hurt really bad and I am in the hospital, RUN! (Okay, again, not right now.) Mommy would only send a family member and even then they would have to know the passwords. Okay? So don't believe that person either unless they know our super secret password that only we know. Right? Oh! Almost forgot. And if they say that I've told them the password and they "just forgot it" and want you to give them a hint - just run because they either know it or they don't. Okay? Good. Class dismissed. Oh, hey! Hold up there little one. You almost forgot your anklet tracking device. Okay, you're welcome. Love you too."

Vastly different stuff.

A gentler, kinder recess?

Here's the headline: "Mass. Elementary school bans tag" - yes, that's right, tag. No need to blink to moisten your eyeballs. I assure you, you read that line correctly. From now on, those crazy, wacky, tortfeasing little bastards who have nothing better to do at recess than, oh, I dunno, PLAY!, have been commanded to stand down their rebel rousing, non-stop, maniacal games of tag. Why? Because some A......excuse me, because it was determined after careful scrutiny and hours and hours of mind numbing board meetings that those crazy cut-ups of ours, those pesky kids are at it again causing all sorts of liability problems for their school district - they're playing tag. Yes, tag. You remember that game...It's the one where the kids get to run their little legs off after being cooped up in a classroom for four hours, chase their target, and once "tagged" scream "TAG! YOU'RE IT! at decibels that would rival a small locomotive. You don't believe me? Here's the link: http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20061018/ap_on_fe_st/playground_tag_ban.

The rationale: liability issues. The ban prohibits kids from playing tag, touch football and any other unsupervised chase game during recess for fear they'll get hurt and hold the school liable. And I quote the quote: "Recess is "a time when accidents can happen," said Willett Elementary School Principal Gaylene Heppe, who approved the ban." M'kay, GAYLENE, and yet no apparent CONTACT sport ban during recess? Swell. Really logical stuff. A ban simply on the probability that it might happen. You know, someday a large meteor may fall from the sky and crush my car with me in it. And yet despite this potential for grave bodily harm, I continue to, um, how shall we say?, LIVE LIFE, oh yeah, LIVE LIFE! Remember that GAYLENE? Actually living life and letting a kid be a kid? No? Didn't think so.

I truly fear for the children of today - what next? How about we duct tape the kids to the desks, perhaps then they'll never get hurt. No fear of that. Oh! Maybe we can train the little buggers to simply meditate their way through recess. Would that make you happy GAYLENE? Oh, but then there would always be the fear that kids may sue the school for all those vocal cord injuries when the kids are forced to sit grasshopper style and hum themselves into a zen state. Sure there are a myriad of other activities kids can do instead of this apparent "ninja tag" they are so fond of. But are we losing sight of the forest but for the trees? Why stop with just the chase games? Why not prohibit movement altogether because as we all know, movement of limbs and appendages only increases the probability of injury and we wouldn't want the school to shoulder THAT burden. Holy smokes - that's just a huge responsibility! Sort of like the cross that every other school district has managed to bear despite their radical notions of historical precedent and flawless disregard for the liability apparently associated with a timeless, inane game like, um, lemme see, oh yes, TAG!

Are these people serious? Kids need to exert themselves. They need to burn off energy, because really folks, the times they do not are very difficult times for anyone responsible for their care. They are miserable little beings if they cannot get that energy out. But more importantly, great strides were just made in our school systems nutritionally. Schools have finally agreed to remove the sugary drinks and snacks; remove the high fat content hot lunches; impart better nutritional ideals in our youth and to what end? Just in time to have some educational "administrator" ban a solidly healthy and fantastic way for kids to get their bodies moving and active? Juvenile diabetes is on a ferocious rise in American children, largely in part to their diet choices and LACK OF ACTIVITY. Am I making sense here? Gain momentum in one arena only to have the other component attacked with arbitrary and may I add, irrational logic. And really, a ban like this prompts more questions then it actually answers like what the hell kind of tag game were these kids playing to warrant a school board session that actually took this request seriously? How many tag game casualties were there GAYLENE? A school administrator like this needs to have her credentials checked and checked again and then again. Last time I looked our state educational institutions possessed at least a qualified immunity against civil complaints thereby making it really, really, really difficult for someone to prevail against the "State" entity. Perhaps this is not the case in Mass., but certainly this school could have literally put their thinking caps on had there been an actual legitimacy to this issue of "deadly tag". Shame on you GAYLENE and anyone else who supported this endeavor. Shame, shame, shame.

Body Piercing

I am consistently surprised when I encounter human beings who desire to mutilate their body with various body art or piercings. I am particularly transfixed by those members of society who have the strength of soul and apparent suspension of all intelligent thought who are inclined to poke holes through things like a tongue, a nose, lips, a navel - because frankly I can't figure out not only what motivates someone to mutilate themselves in this manner, let alone how they can muster the courage to go through with something this bizarre.

Body art has existed from the time that Grog was able to figure out that "clay make pretty, pretty on face". Clearly the interest in enhancing, attracting, coloring and camouflaging our visible parts goes back a long, long way. Today, however, I'm sure that piercing is less a demonstration of "body art" but more of a type of self-mutilation. To subject your muscles, flesh and delicate tissue to permanent holes and horrific infections, if done incorrectly, is a notion I will never, ever, understand. To me body piercing is tantamount to self hatred as it seems to say I have no value or respect for the harm this may do in the name of fashion or trend setting. It's a complete disregard for your body and truth be told it completely grosses me out.

I know numerous people and have multiple friends who partake in this ritual of poking holes in themselves and hanging stuff from those holes like a display rack in a department store. And to these friends I say, YUCK! Some of these people are single and everytime I see them I can't suppress the voice in my head which screams: who in the hell could possibly be attracted to that crap hanging from your nose. And of course, I think "nose" and then my mind wanders to an image of that person during allergy season sneezing away and I'm struck by the image of them having to (egads!) take the damn door knocker out of the offending body part when they are forced to live like the rest of the world and blow their nose the old fashion way. And of course, I then imagine that if they were willing to go through cartilage to accomplish that look, God knows what the rest of them looks like underneath all that fabric and toughness. Which brings me back to the original thought: "who the hell goes for someone like that?" Which is promptly answered when the significant other shows up displaying car fresheners from their ears and an entire Craftsman tool kit from no less than twenty different holes specifically targeted to be thee most painful looking places evah.

I once talked at length to a gal whose tongue was pierced no less than twice. And after falling into the rhythm of her speech, or, after taking 10 minutes trying to figure out the exact new cadence of her tongue piercing language, I was able to glean from her the rationale for having two metal balls nailed into and through the most important muscle of communication. In short: there was no plausible explanation she could profess that made any sense whatsoever, with the exception of one: (and if you are under the age of 18 you need to stop reading here): "her boyfriend believed it was instrumental in enhancing the amorous side of their relationship". To which I naively responded: "but the piercing is in your MOUTH!" To which she stared blankly in her best valley girl way as if to say "der". To which I nearly said "I don't get it" that is, until I read her "der" expression for what it was really attempting to say and promptly screamed "OH MY GOD! YOU ARE THE BIGGEST IDIOT I HAVE EVER ENCOUNTERED IN MY LIFE! YOU DID THAT TO YOURSELF FOR A GUY? NO! NO! EVEN WORSE, FOR THAT?"

Suffice to say, speech impediment aside, I understood her next communication (which pretty much consisted of a single hand gesture) so clearly and precisely that I no longer worried about her inability to pronounce normal phrases like: "Hello, my name is..". Her American sign language skills were working just fine.

Freezes Fry-st and his budding flock.

My son holding my Celtic cross in his hand: "Mommy, dats freezes fry-st!"

Me: "Yes, you're right Babe, that is Jesus Christ."

My son: (with great enthusiasm and animation) "Mommy, Mommy! Freezes Fry-st lives in da blah, blah zoo. (literal translation there) Yeah! And he gots da "ele-pants", da zebros, da tie-ga's, da frazee (crazy) pish (fish). Yeah, he lives in da zoo and drives dat boat!"

Me: "That's RIGHT Baby! Who's my widdle religious zealot? Who's my widdle widdle budding bundle of Catholic joy?"

My son: "I am! I am!"