Hitting kids

I listened to an hour long conversation on Public Radio about 'corporal punishment'--the nicer way of saying 'hitting kids'.

All the evidence of much scientific study proves that 'hitting kids' doesn't work in any way. In fact, 'hitting kids' has bad results--humiliation and withdrawal, later violence, no change in behavior.

I was never hit as a kid. Bern wasn't either. So we didn't hit Josh and Mimi (though I did put my fist through a wall in New Haven when Josh did something I could not abide.) And, so far as I know, Josh and Cathy have never hit their kids.

Here's the first question (AND maybe the 'only' question) to ask: why is it a crime to hit another adult and not a crime to hit your kid?

Did you know that the US is the nation that most often hits kids? Many Western nations and nations in the second and third world, have made hitting your kid a crime.

It doesn't fuckin' work! Hitting your kid has no effect whatsoever on future behavior. So why do we still do it?

Here's an interesting fact: a much larger percentage of 'born again Christians' hit their kids than other populations. Something about 'spare the rod and spoil the child' kind of mentality.

And people who were hit as children tend to a much greater degree to hit their children than parents who weren't hit as children.

It's about breaking the cycle, as so many things are.

When you hit someone--your wife or husband, your kid, another adult--you have already lost control of the situation. "Hitting" is the last resort. So, if you are hitting you've already lost the strands that would make for a healthy relationship. When you hit your child it is about 'you' not them. They learn nothing and gain nothing from the hitting. You channel your frustration into striking out but don't learn anything or gain anything from the violence inflicted on a helpless, defenseless child.

All this radio conversation was spurred by the accusations against Adrian Peterson, the MVP running back of the Minnesota Vikings who apparently switched his 4 year old so badly he needed emergency medical assistance.

By the way, a four year old doesn't have enough frontal cortex development to control their behavior. Hitting a four year old is like hitting a hedge-hog. No message gets through. Not at all.

I think we can thank the NFL, ironically, for giving us a forum to talk about domestic violence (Ray Rice and others) and hitting kids (Adrian Peterson).

It's long past time that both conversations should be gripping our culture.

In an ironic way, thank God for pro football players. Maybe now we can truly face the twin horrors of domestic violence and child abuse and not let ourselves off the hook.

(Interesting, isn't it, that it takes millionaires behaving badly to get us to pay attention?)

Autumn light

I was out on the deck when the light gets the way it only gets in Autumn--so rich, so full, like you can touch it and taste it and inhale it.

The Celtic folks called it 'the gloaming'--that time after sunset and before dark where magic and spirits and wonder and marvel might just show up.

The light in the gloaming is so wondrous...a bit off color, hazy almost, translucent.

Here's the song about it.

"Roamin' In The Gloamin'" is a popular love song written by Sir Harry Lauder in 1911. The song tells of a man and his sweetheart courting in the evening. The title comes from the chorus:

Roamin' in the gloamin' on the bonnie banks o' Clyde.

Roamin' in the gloamin' wae my lassie by my side.

When the sun has gone to rest,

That's the time we love the best.

O, it's lovely roamin' in the gloamin.!^[1]

The song was a hit for Lauder in both his music hall shows and his 1912 recording. It has been recorded numerous times since.

It happens most in Autumn. Keep an eye out for the Gloamin'.....

"That made it worth it...."

Somewhere, in the last few days, I either read or heard someone say, "that made it worth it."

Something, in life, made life 'worth it' for whoever said that, real or fictional. (I only read fiction these days--four or five books a week--no wonder I can't remember where I heard that.

But it made me think about 'what made it worth it' to live my life.

In my life as a priest I baptized almost 800 children and the rare adult. I was the celebrant at over 600 funerals. I was the one who pronounced almost 400 people married--including 2 same sex couples.

All of that 'made it worth it' to have been alive.

But as a man, I have raised two children who turned out better than I could have imagined.

And I have three remarkable grand-daughters who make my life golden.

And I've been married to Bern for 43 years--full of joy and pain and wonder and worry and fulfillment beyond anything I deserve.

All of that 'made it worth it' to be alive.

More than 'worth it'--amazing, astonishing, profound beyond belief.

I'm so grateful for having been alive. Really. Beyond reality--just perfect.

And I say 'thank you so much' to whatever powers that be, to God and Allah and Yahweh and Jesus and Buddha and Moses and Mohammed and all the others I'm forgetting. And the Goddess. And the stars in the sky and the planets in their courses and the Universe itself.

Thank you.

It has been so 'worth it' I can't even put it into words....

elbow

Your elbow is something you hardly ever notice until you do.

I've been noticing my left elbow now for over a week. I have a theory about why it is hurting. Nobody would believe my theory, and I don't blame them.

But here it is: I am lucky (or unlucky) enough to have such severe allergies that I qualify via blood test for a medication called Xolair. It's two shots every two weeks to give me allergen blockers. I can really tell that it's working 9 months after starting. I haven't had asthma once in all that time and though I still cough and sneeze, it wasn't nearly as bad as it has been in the past this summer. Not nearly as bad. Plus, I'm on half the medication I used to take before the shots and in October may, if my doctor agrees, go off it altogether. So, good news.

Bad news is this: I broke the two bones in my left forearm in 8 or 9 places in a car wreck 6 or 7 years ago (I'm not sure since linear time confounds me...) and have two titanium rods in that arm. The first time I took Xolair I had one shot in each arm and my forearm started aching until I went to the surgeon who put them there. Everything was fine according to X-ray and some anti-inflammatory pills made the ache go away in a day or two.

Then, two weeks ago, for reasons beyond all comprehension, I let the nurse give me a shot in both arms. I woke up two days later with pain in my elbow that only got worse when I was in Chicago. I still had the pills from the last time and though I've been taking them for three days, my elbow still hurts. I can't quite put my left forefinger in my left ear. I can't lift anything heavy with my left arm. It wakes me up a couple of times a night when I'm not on my right side with my left arm folded over my chest.

Very annoying.

Noticing your elbow is a pain in the...well, elbow.

I'm going to urgent care tomorrow if it isn't a lot better. Could Xolair and titanium really react that way? I have no other explanation--I didn't hit or injure my elbow in any way.

Pondering the human body will get you thinking too much....

Scotland

This whole Scottish independence movement is hard to follow from here. I've always thought that Scotland and Wales and even Northern Ireland, had distinct identities and did not think of themselves as 'British'.

This movement seems to emerge from two distinct and very different situations.

1) The Iron Lady and beyond: Some Scots wanted a third choice on the ballot along with 'Yes' and 'No'--'Devolution'. Until Margaret Thatcher, Scotland had a great deal of control of their education system, their health-care system, their banking system...they even had the right to add a tax to the British income tax of 3 pence to a pound that would stay in Scotland for Scottish use. They never did it, but they had the option. Actually, Scotland made out like bandits in the 'marriage of convenience with England, Wales and Ireland (now just Northern Ireland). The Scottish economy, semi-autonomous from the rest of the UK, flowered in the alliance in trade and manufacturing and banking. But beginning with Thatcher, lessening with Blair and increasing again under David Cameron, Westminster took back some of the autonomy...quite a bit of it. "Devolution" as an option would give Great Britain the opportunity to 'devolve' powers back to a Scotland still in the union. In fact, Cameron and others have suggested that would happen if there was a 'No' vote. However, the thing politicians do worst is make promises they keep.

2) The discovery of oil in the North Sea 30 years ago: all that oil (mostly undeveloped) is now in the ocean of Great Britain. If the vote is 'Yes' today, the ocean belongs to Scotland. Don't need to explain that much more. Follow the money....

The vote was on paper ballots and the total won't be known until Friday morning sometimes although the population of Scotland is only a tad larger than the population of Connecticut.

Bern said she hopes the vote is 'Yes'...just to see what happens!

Who knows what will happen--but the vote will be extremely close although about a month ago "No" had a big lead. Then England started sending PM's and others to croon about how lovely it is to be 'British' and the Scots were appalled.

Whatever happens, this close vote will change the conversation in Scotland from "Why should we be independent?" to "Why shouldn't we be independent?"

That shift in the conversation is a crack in the dike of unity. That much I know from the 2% or so of my DNA that is Scottish.

Scottish DNA is DNA on steroids and bagpipes and haggis....

One thing I notice

When I come back from leading a workshop I am calmer and more laid back that I was before I went.

Now, truth be known, I am calm and laid back to a degree normally not seen in nature.

So, coming back more so, deepens the calmness and laid backness.

Maybe, if I lead enough Making a Difference Workshops, I'll just show up as 'present', with not much attached.

That would be good, I think....

Coming home

When Jerome, one of the Chinese participants in the workshop in Chicago, was leaving, he gave me half-a-pack of Chinese cigarettes. Though some people would think that was akin to giving a razor blade to a person in a warm bath, I was deeply touched.

Chinese cigarettes, by the way, taste the way I had imagined they would. But I smoked them anyway so I would honor the gift.

We had the widest cultural group I've ever seen in a workshop--4 Chinese, 4 Vietnamese, 2 Africans (Togo and Somalia), an American raised Korean who spoke Chinese as well as English and Korean and two Hispanics. Amazing. We had to keep checking if everyone understood 'Americanism'--like I said, "frozen in amber" and Ann explained resin and insects to the group!

Ann and I had dinner with Nancy and Jens, both of whom are involved in the Mastery Foundation. They live on the 28th and top floor of a high-rise in North Chicago. Their South facing wall is all glass and looks over downtown and the lake. To the west, floor the ceiling windows view the sunset. I have difficulty (as I've said before, I'm sure) with heights. I didn't get too near the windows, but the views were beyond belief. Four friends of theirs, all Bosnians, came as well and were delightful.

Ann took a cab to O'Hara and I took one to Midway. My cab driver was from Nairobi, and we listened to the end of the Bears game on his radio, turned up loud, us cheering all the way. Chicago Bears fans from Nairobi and West Virginia--ponder that.

I took the shuttle to the airport this morning and flew to Atlanta--Chicago to Hartford through Atlanta, imagine that.

My connection was in a different concourse and I had to take a train and didn't have time for a meal so I bought a Boar's Head wrap to eat on the plane. Atlanta still has smoking areas--which, to me, seems very civilized. I had a Chinese cigarette in a pub that had glass doors that kept the smoke inside. You could have had a smoke in there without lightening up. It was about 30 feet by 20 feet and sealed in and full of smoke and the friendly and marginalized folks who are smokers. When smokers are in the presence of only other smokers there is an almost tribal feeling to the gathering.

The flight to Bradley Airport was supposed to take an hour and 59 minutes. We were 27 minutes early so I got through Hartford traffic before 5 and got home much earlier than I had imagined.

The Puli almost had a stroke from the exuberance of this greeting and Bern was there, wondrous as always, and the cat came out and put his paws up on my leg for a scratch and the parakeet was singing up a storm.

How much I love home!

The day may come when I won't travel at all, as much as I enjoy it.

Coming home is always just the absolute, positively, best thing ever.....