The Crab Chronicles

The Little Miracle Tree

Yesterday when my son set up our little tree the lights on the top part were not working at all. Even with all the ornaments, it looked sad. We tried everything. Nothing worked. The top quarter stayed unlit. I was so bummed out. We can't afford a new tree, even a little one. I prayed about it, and asked God to help us out. This morning, ALL the lights are working and we didn't touch it! God answered my prayer!

Our creche has been in a box, packed away, for three years. I got it out yesterday and set it up, and thought of my mother in heaven, knowing she would approve. She loved to set up the creche and surround baby Jesus with angels. She collected angels her entire adult life. Maybe that's what brought on the miracle. I don't know.

#miracletree, #Godanswersprayers, #thankyoulord, #webelieveinangels, #thanksmom

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Remembering Mama

It's the first Thanksgiving of my life where there will be no turkey or any kind of meat served, because my son is now a vegetarian. I will not be making my mother's dressing recipe either, because to leave out the chicken broth and cream of chicken soup is just unthinkable. I have planned fresh asparagus, spinach quiche, an orzo and mushroom dish, and pecan pie. I am not worried about anyone leaving the table hungry.

Michael himself made a pan of cornbread this morning. It's nice to have another cook in the family.

If my mother were alive she would insist on having turkey, ham, or some kind of meat on the table. She was highly uncomfortable with the idea of not eating meat or fish. When she was a teenager she had been diagnosed as iron deficient and put on iron supplements, and encouraged to eat beef. For the remainder of her life she was always delighted to partake of roast beef, prime rib, stroganoff, cottage pie, burgers, etc. and to her it was literally feel good food.

I have been missing her a lot today. It has been almost 4 1/2 years since she died, and most of the time I cope pretty well, but around the holidays it makes me sad to think I will never get to see the look of delight on Mom's face as she takes her first bit of turkey and dressing at Thanksgiving dinner. She loved turkey -- but just as an accompaniment to dressing, and she made the best dressing ever. I wrote about it here. I won't ever see her put pretty things on the dining room table, and pull out the good china and crystal and silver. I won't be able to sit in front of the TV eating a hunk of cornbread covered in milk, watching the parades, listening to my parents getting the turkey ready, my childhood Thanksgiving breakfast ritual.

Unlike most families, we rarely had big Thanksgiving dinners. When I will little, and we lived in Augusta, my grandparents and mother's brothers and their families often got together with us at Thanksgiving, but then we moved to Tennessee and my uncle moved his family to Chicago, and that came to an end. So it's usually just our little family. The last few years it has been just me and my son, because my brother is always working the Friday after Thanksgiving. Sometimes we have guests, but most years not.

Mom always started saying "We need to put up the Christmas tree and get out the decorations" right after Thanksgiving. She liked the tree put up and kept up until New Year's Day, a tradition I try to continue.

I miss the after Thanksgiving ritual of Mom and Dad going to Fatman's Forest in Augusta or the garden place in Knoxville [the name escapes me] to pick out a huge, real tree. Even the annual fight about the cost was fun, including watching Dad cuss as he brought it into the house and set it up. "That blankety-blank tree was so expensive we won't be able to afford gifts!" he'd fume.

Mom would just say "Oh hush, let's get the lights and garlands on there and then you can go have a beer."

I miss Dad saying about two days after Thanksgiving "I can't eat ANY MORE TURKEY! Let's order a pizza."

We weren't a big football watching family [except for the Dawgs, of course] but the Georgia v. Georgia Tech was always watched, and Dad would roundly curse the Tech team.

My mother always made all Thanksgiving dinners fun and meaningful.

I told my son about the first Thanksgiving when my brother couldn't make it home because he was in the Army, stationed in Texas, and how Mom and Dad and I went to the Salvation Army and served dinner to their "clients" all afternoon, then stopped and ate our dinner at Cracker Barrel on the way home. That was a depressing day, but I was glad we didn't just sit around moping all day. Dad worked tirelessly for the Salvation Army and believed wholeheartedly in their mission.

It may not happen for a few years yet but I look forward to the day that Michael has a family and we can have a more traditional Thanksgiving. Until then, I will cherish my memories and enjoy eating our big meal wearing my bathrobe, and watching a movie afterwards...

Happy Thanksgiving!

 

A Different Kind of Vegetable Soup

For a couple of months I've been making a big pot of veggie soup every Sunday, which feeds Michael and me Sunday night dinner, and I eat leftover soup every weekday at lunch. This is not your mother's veggie soup, however.

After watching many videos about roasting veggies and turning them into soup, I came up with my own version and tonight I finally got all the flavor notes right! I really like the combination of turmeric and ginger, and it's a great anti-inflammatory combination.

This is different from most veggie soups. Most vegetable soups are broth based and contain a lot of filler like pasta but this one is packed with veggies and nutrients. You could add rice or pasta, or serve with a nice loaf of homemade bread, also.

The recipe below makes a LOT of soup, enough for several meals. So although it's a little bit of trouble it's worth taking the time.

HELPS TO HAVE:

good sheet pans

a really good sharp knife

an immersion blender

 

Root Vegetable Soup

1 medium sized butternut squash

1 onion, any color

1-2 teaspoons minced garlic

1 stick butter [you could leave this out if you're vegan]

2 tablespoons olive oil

3-4 large carrots, peeled and chopped, or a bag of shredded carrots, about 2 cups

1 can pumpkin

1 can garbanzo or pinto beans

1 carton vegetable broth

1 cup coconut milk

1/4 cup orange juice

2-4 teaspoons turmeric

2-4 teaspoons ground ginger or ginger puree

2 teaspoons of paprika

hearty sprinkling of a spicy blend like Dan-O's seasoning

salt & pepper

 

Pre-heat the oven to 425 and cut off the ends of your butternut squash, then slice in half lengthwise. Dig out the seeds from the little depression in the flesh. I then take olive oil and rub it all over both pieces. I usually leave it in about 30-45 minutes, depending on the size of the squash. If this sounds like too much trouble you can also buy peeled and chopped butternut squash in the freezer area. 

In a non-stick skillet I melt a stick of butter and put in the onion, chopped coarsely, and the garlic. Then I add the carrots and seasonings, and 1 or two cups of veggie broth, and let it simmer the entire time the squash is cooking, or about 30 minutes.

I pull out the squash and let it cool about 15 minutes, and turn off the heat under the skillet. By now everything in the skillet should be soft. I scoop out the squash and put it in a big saucepan, although you could put it in the crock pot instead and let it go on high an hour or so. I attack the soft veggies with the immersion blender until it's all pretty liquefied, and add the pumpkin. I then stir in the rest of the veggie broth, canned beans, and coconut milk, and let it simmer for at least 20 minutes before serving. Taste and see if you need to adjust seasonings, is my pro tip.

It's great with french fried onions on top as a garnish, and my son likes to eat it with bread. I've also seen toasted pumpkin seeds used as a garnish.

After dinner we ate clementines for dessert. I said to my son "Tonight's dinner is brought to you by the color ORANGE!"

Bon Appetit!

rootvegsoup, #squashsoup, #pumpkinsoup, #heartyvegetablesoup #healthysoup, #delicioussoup

Why We Should Admire Southern Women like Eliza Pinckney

I just saw a post on Facebook about a remarkable 18th century woman named Eliza Pinckney, who transformed the agrarian economy in South Carolina and defied the conventions of her day. She is the subject of the book Indigo Girl, by Natasha Boyd, and I just ordered that. I look forward to reading it. 

I enjoyed reading the short post. I had heard of Eliza but I was fascinated to learn more about her.

One of the comments came from a young woman who said sneeringly she made her fortune from the labor of the enslaved -- so basically that fact means nobody should admire her. That kind of thinking makes me really angry.

It's possible to be pro human rights and anti-slavery AND to still admire people who changed the world more than two hundred years ago.

In the 18th century, often referred to as The Age of Enlightenment, there were huge strides made in human achievement, particularly in scholarly accomplishments, as explained by Britannica:

"The great geniuses of the 17th century confirmed and amplified the concept of a world of calculable regularity, but, more importantly, they seemingly proved that rigorous mathematical reasoning offered the means, independent of God’s revelation, of establishing truth. The success of Newton, in particular, in capturing in a few mathematical equations the laws that govern the motions of the planets, gave great impetus to a growing faith in the human capacity to attain knowledge."

What the article doesn't address is the fact that when Eliza Lucas Pinckney was born, women were viewed as literally inferior in every way -- inferior minds, inferior character, inferior physically, etc. According to this website, liveyourdream.org:

"Prior to the 19th century, very few girls received formal schooling unless their families could afford a private education, which mostly focused on manners and domesticity."

Eliza Pinckney studied botany in an English boarding school and made important discoveries but she is not listed on their website as a woman who we should admire now, in the 21st century, undoubtedly because she was a slaveowner. Yet, she didn't get to choose the world she was born into. She was a product of her time and place. I admire her greatly.

By the standards of modern feminism, however, Eliza must be shunned, her accomplishments ignored. However, she not only transformed her community and married for love, she taught her slaves to read -- which was a very daring thing to do at that time. She could have been arrested for it.

Eliza was honored last year by the Daniel Island Historical Society. Here is an excerpt from the talk given:

"Born on Antigua (where he father was Lt. Governor) and educated in England, Eliza Lucas moved to South Carolina at 16 with her mother and sister Polly. The family owned three plantations in the Charleston area. Eliza turned her love of botany into an effort to develop indigo as a cash crop to complement the areas dependence on rice. Family friend Charles Pinckney, a widower, married Eliza when she was 25 and he was 45. They had 4 children in the following 4 years! They had one daughter, Polly. One of their sons died soon after birth. Charles Cotesworth (the oldest) and youngest child Thomas both achieved fame in the military and in government of the new nation."

It makes me sad that so many young women today look down on pioneers like Eliza Pinckney. Eliza didn't get to choose when she was born, or the society where she lived. There were no professions that warmly accepted a woman. She had to fight to learn. Her life was limited by the fact that she had four children in four years.

Eliza was the mother of one of the signers of the Declaration of Independence. According to Walking Charleston:

"Charles Pinckney [Eliza's husband] passed away in July of 1758. After his death, Eliza became an enthusiastic supporter of the Revolution. She spent much of her time with her daughter Harriott Pinckney Horry at Hampton Plantation near Georgetown. There she met the “Swamp Fox “, Francis Marion. Eliza actually helped Marion to evade British troops (as he had done many times) by entertaining a group of them at Hampton. Eliza was also known to George Washington. The two met at Hampton Plantation during his 1791 visit to South Carolina. Eliza traveled to Philadelphia for breast cancer treatment in 1793. She died May 26th and was buried there. George Washington was one of her pallbearers.

In 1989, almost two centuries after her death, Eliza Lucas Pinckney was the first woman inducted into the South Carolina Business Hall of Fame."

Instead of denigrating women like Eliza Pinckney, we should revere them. 

 

My grandmother Beaulah Phillips Butler (known the me as Granny Butler) was sent to a "finishing school" as a teenager, and married off at the age of 18. For the next 30 years, she had a baby every year or two, and not all of them lived. It was illegal to use birth control at the time, and anyone giving birth control or selling it to women, could be jailed.The lives of women -- even wealthy ones, like Beulah -- had not changed much in the hundred years since Eliza's death.

Granny coped with a bad marriage to an unfaithful man at a time when divorce was rare, and shocking, and often cost a person their friends. It was seen as a violation of Christian principles. (Granny was a devout Christian.) Granny also had to deal with the deaths of several of her children in infancy, the loss of all her money in the 1920's, the murder of one of her sons in 1933, the Great Depression and World War II.

Despite it all, Granny lived life with grace and dignity, admired by many, and greatly loved by her children and grandchildren. She saw that all but one of her 7 daughters were sent to college. One of her daughters, Jenny Butler Nottingham, was a full professor at Mercer University, for many years, after earning a Ph.D. in German.Granny's sons were successful business owners and one of them, Carl Butler, was mayor of Acworth Georgia for many years.

I never knew Granny but my mother adored her, and told me many stories about her.

Women like Eliza Pinckney and Beulah Butler faced daunting challenges in their day, challenges young women of today cannot fathom, and yet they triumphed. Were they morally perfect, or "woke," by the standards of feminists in 2024? Likely not. However, they should still be admired. Their lives were far more difficult than ours. I am proud to be Beulah's great-granddaughter, and proud of my Southern heritage.

Below, Granny Butler and her daughters, about 1921

 

 

 

 

Old Ladies

I was texting with my cousins earlier this evening about her mother, who is 96 years young. She still lives alone. She still drives. She is still cognitively fine. I talked to her a few months ago. When Helene went through Augusta a tree fell on her house and she is staying with her daughter temporarily, but I've no doubt she will go home soon.

Old ladies are tough.

Old Southern ladies are REALLY tough.

My aunt has lived through the Great Depression, World War II, the Cold War, the Baby Boom [she contributed two babies], Watergate, 9/11, the death of her husband, and Covid.

I doubt I will live to see 96 but I hope to live long enough to do the following:

• walk along a beach somewhere in a spry way, not worrying about falling and breaking a hip
• move into a retirement home and raise some hell
• play with my grandchildren, and beat them at board games [as my memaw taught me]
• publish another book or two

About ten years ago I had a job interview for a paralegal job at an insurance company, and there were 4 people talking to me. I was in my early 50's, a mere whippersnapperess. Everyone called me Miss Dee and treated me like an oracle. [In the South we call old ladies "Miss ____[first name]" as a sign of respect. I was tempted to belch or make some other rude bodily noise, just to see the looks on their faces.

I didn't get the job but I didn't care. It occurred to me later that all those folks in the interview probably weren't born when I was in college. I probably have clothes older than each of them. I prefer to work around people who won't be shocked if I say SHIT.

When my mom turned 50 she announced she was done being nice to people she didn't like. I didn't know that before that she viewed being nice to people she didn't like as a chore. She did it beautifully. Then later she would tell me about those encounters as she sipped a strong vodka/tonic, and we would often laugh...

As my memaw taught me, old ladies can get away with saying just about anything as long as they smile and use a sweet voice. In other words, Old ladies get to speak their minds without being looked at as beeyotches or loons. I am looking forward to it! [I'm not quite there yet, despite young people calling me Miss Dee]

 

Non-Traditional Paralegal Duties

Early in my paralegal career I was asked to do a lot of things that a paralegal today likely wouldn't be asked to do, like pick up an attorney's dry cleaning or chauffeur him to a deposition an hour away because his car was in the shop.

Instead of complaining, I welcomed the chance to get out of the office. I had been schooled by my mother to not ever complain about that sort of thing. "If they are paying you, it's your duty to do what they ask you to do," she counseled. (Of course, that excludes anything illegal or immoral, and I never had to deal with either scenario, thank goodness.)

My father, who ran the trust department of a bank for thirty-five years, often asked his bank officers to do unusual things. He had many elderly customers who came from generations of wealth but who were stubborn about asking for help. He visited a client one day and her television was broken. In those days, even small TVs were heavy for an old person. She didn't have any servants or family who could help her. Dad sent one of his officers out to buy her a TV and install it for her and make sure it worked. Did he have to do that? No. It wasn't one of his job duties, but it made her happy. That's one reason why Dad's customers loved him.

When my mother was only 22 years old she got her first teaching job, in an elementary school in a very bad neighborhood of Atlanta. Raised in a comfortable middle class home, she had never seen kids come to school hungry, and it upset her profoundly. She often bought milk, and sometimes lunch, for kids who had come to school with empty stomachs. She spent a great deal of her paycheck on her kids. Years later when she told me about it, she said even though many of the parents were criminals and prostitutes, they were eager for their kids to do well in school, and get out of the generational poverty, and they always supported and appreciated her efforts. Although in the rest of her short teaching career she taught at much nicer schools, she never had parents as involved and caring, and it touched her deeply.

When my brother was a young Army first lieutenant, he was only 23 years old, but to the 18 and 19 year olds he led were very naive. Routinely, they would run out of money before then end of the month - and they sometimes had families to feed. One guy said to him "I don't know why the PX [grocery store on base] won't take my check. I have lots of checks left!" My brother patiently sat with the guy and helped them to understand how to create a budget and stick to it, so his wife and child could eat all month. (The soldiers could eat in the Mess Hall, of course.) Another time one of his top sergeants kept showing up for work having had little or no sleep the night before due to his baby crying all the time. Brother called our mom, who listened to the story and told him to tell the sergeant to go ahead and start the baby on baby food, which solved the problem. That cost some money because long-distance calls weren't cheap in those days. My brother didn't have to go the extra mile but he felt like it was important to help his soldiers.

Most of us spend a lot of our lives at work. We run into situations where job duties fall far outside what's in the official company job description. We have two choices. We can go to HR and complain, or we can just pitch in and act from a place of team unity and/or simple compassion.

Some of my early paralegal duties included making coffee, walking to the courthouse to file pleadings, delivering Christmas gifts to clients, picking up clients and driving them to court, and picking up lunch for everyone in a deposition. I've also hugged and comforted upset clients, and bought cold medicine for a sick attorney who was in trial. My point is simple: you're a human being before you're a paralegal. That attorney who asks you to do something outside your job description probably isn't trying to demean you; they just need some extra help. Unless there are really odd, extenuating circumstances, it's usually best to be flexible when it comes to job duties. Act on the side of caring and being a team player. Follow the Golden Rule. Err on the side of the angels and show grace and compassion.

For more stories and paralegal guidance, check out my book Paralegal 411: Tips, Tricks, and Timesavers for the Litigation Paralegal, or my humorous memoir, Talking Back: Stories from the Big Hair and Pantyhose Years.

#newbieparalegaladvice, #legaljobdescriptions, #paralegalprofessionalism, #storiesofparalegals, #paralegalhistory

Poems from Years Ago

My master's thesis was a collection of poetry and it's ensconced in the library at the University of Tennessee, in Knoxville, probably gathering dust. I've been away from the world of poetry writing but I occasionally like to read it. I found my thesis in a drawer and felt very nostalgic reading the outpourings of my 26 year old heart. Below are some of my favorite poems.

 

Floating

Alone in my pool I float,

arms and legs the compass points of nowhere, water breathing with me,

I hear only tiny slaps

of waves against my ears.

drifting a little,

it's more than weightlessness I know.

And I am the same as that leaf going by, Alone in the hand of the pool.

**************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************

Sundown Feeding

Late in the day, the lake diamonds,

air softens, lulls

downy ducks bobbing, soft amongst the shine.

Loud honks punctuate their ascent. I hunker down in the grass,

a plastic bag of stale bread in my lap.

Like children seeing a curiosity, they bustle to me

Tiny bits of bread soar in the fading pink sky.

Necks craned, they crowd together, pecking, honking. I throw some back to the shy gallery,

intrepid frontrunners poking beaks into my hands, knees.

I toss it all away, delighted with their gobbling, Giggling a little, as around the yard

The flock follows me, though

my hands are empty.                                                                  I

Though the dangerous depths of blue and green shimmer close, the sun fires

From far above the trees,

pulling night on like an old gown ablaze.

******************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************

Battleball

The class divided, we'd crouch like runners on either side

of the field, the balls lined up between us, on the ground.

Only at that unbearable moment when everyone went rigid, finally shut up, finally stopped everything in anticipation,

Sixty-four eyes fastened on eight rubber balls, only

Then would the insane shriek of the gym teacher's whistle send us surging forth to grab the balls and hurl them with

Adrenalined abandon, adolescent yelling, pent-up derring-do

to thwack the hard-muscled missiles at the opposing line.

When you were hit--quite often on the side of the head--you

had to leave the battleground and stand on the sidelines, and It was your duty to scream encouragement, warning, directions

to those left--to contort your face, put hands on hips, and Challenge everything, notice everything, and cheer as though

the world's fate depended on the fact that your side won.

The fate of those shirttailed warriors still left feigning and

dodging, hurling, scuttling away, retrieving, dancing, shqwing Off--playing deadly, so that time was a vacuum.                                                                      •

We threw everything wrong away out there. The stolen pencils, timples, forgotten homework, Sunday School clothes, unrequited crushes,

Little brothers, clawing braces, unaffordable tennis shoes, divorced parents, dead dogs, dead grandparents--

It all vanished in the sanctity of asphalt and rubber, whistles and sky, manic and frenzied combat, sordid and beautiful.

Nothing in adult life has been as simple, as purging, as primal, as glorious and heartbreaking and thrilling as Battleball.

 

How Boomers Can Reverse Declining Fertility Rates

I always knew I wanted to be a mother, and if you'd told me as a child that one day I would adopt two children over the age of ten I would have been astonished. I feel strongly that God gives us the children we were meant to have, though. I have LOVED being a mom. I wish I could have adopted or given birth to 2-3 more. Unfortunately, according to the CDC, the fertility rate here in the USA is at an all-time low. It has been declining for years but now, despite the heroic efforts of celebs like Nick Cannon and Elon Musk, and many pro basketball players, the sad fact remains: we ain't having enough babies, y'all.

This is the latest data, as of 2023, according to the CDC:

• 2023 birth rates
  • declined for women ages 20–39 years
  • were unchanged for females aged 10–14 and 40–49.
• The birth rate for teenagers aged 15–19 was down 3% in 2023 to 13.2 births per 1,000 women.
• The birth rate for women ages 20–24 (55.4) reached a record low.

According to the Pew Foundation:

"Among the cultural shifts affecting fertility rates, one of the more prominent changes has been Americans delaying or forgoing marriage. Women are marrying later in life, and birth rates for single women are less than half that of those who are married.¹⁹ Women are also delaying having children until later in life—part of the reason why fertility rates have dropped among women in their 20s, which has more than offset increases for women in their late 30s and 40s.²⁰ A recent analysis by the Brookings Institution projected that for young women today, the average number of children they have over their lifetimes would fall compared with the average number for women in prior generations.²¹ A recent Pew Research Center survey found an increasing share of U.S. adults without children reporting they were unlikely to ever have children.^22"

My son is 28 and he cannot afford his own home, much less the expense of getting married and having a family. Many in his age group [20-40] are choosing not to have children because of the expense, and a general fearfulness about the world, including climate change fears. I get it. Student loan debt is crushing. Childcare costs are enormous. Many cannot afford to buy homes. It makes me really sad to think that young people feel like they just cannot afford children, for whatever reason.

Worse, though, is that if we don't make new people, all ages will eventually suffer, as explained in this article from the Pew Charitable Foundation. We need new people to fund the tax base, to do important jobs, to advance science and technology. Speaking as a Baby Boomer, we need the youngsters to take care of us in our old age!

According to ABC News, we need youngsters because:

"They’ll not only staff the hospitals and nursing homes we’ll use in old age but also sustain the economy by funding our pensions when we retire, paying the taxes that finance Social Security, Medicare, and many other government programs we’ll rely on, and buying the homes and stocks we invested in to build our savings."

 

I feel strongly that my generation (Baby Boomers) needs to step up and help our young folks. Let them live at home. Help them with childcare. Loan them funds at no interest. Encourage them to view parenthood as a beautiful experience. My kids greatly benefited from having their Granny in their lives, in the same house, and I think it's part of why she lived to age 86. I would be happy to help if my son had a serious girlfriend or wife and they asked me to help in their parenthood journey. I am SO ready to be a memaw! Boomers, step up and get creative. Let's help our kids embark on the hardest job they'll ever love.

 

 

left, me as a baby, and my older brother

 

right, me and my kids and mother in 2007

Pushing Children to Live Out Their Parents' Dreams

I am cursed with the ability to see things really TOO clearly sometimes. I understand both sides of issues, which means of course that I refuse to join either of the two main political parties in this country because I disagree with things in both parties. [Don't worry this isn't a political post.]

I saw a video early this morning that gave me pause, about a young fashion designer named Max. I've seen several of his videos. Check out his Instagram page, couture.to.the.max -- it's a revelation. Max's parents recognized when he was only 4 years old that he was passionate about fashion design and they encouraged him, giving him sewing lessons and really helping him by nurturing his talent. He is only 8 now but his fashion designs are mature and remarkable.

I applaud Max's parents!

Thank God Max was born in the 21st century.

I am 62 years old and I know this for a sad fact: if Max had been born to my parents in the 1960's his talent in fashion would NOT have been encouraged. My dad was a hunter and a fisherman and he would have been horrified to have a son into something as feminine as fashion. Mom would have tried to shield Max from being  bullied or discouraged but she likely would have failed. My brother was encouraged to be a hunter and to join the Army and he was taken on hunting trips starting at age 3. Before he started school he had his own rifle and knew how to shoot it, load it, and clean it.

I'm not saying doing those things is a bad thing, if a child truly has a passion for guns and hunting and the like. I have always wondered, however, how different things might have been if my dad hadn't pushed my brother into everything hyper masculine.

My brother loved to draw, and he liked music, and Mom started teaching him how to cook when he was still a kid. None of that was shared with Dad, although I'm not sure there was any real conspiracy to keep him from knowing. I think my brother just knew from a young age that if he wanted to be close to his father he had to go along with the program Dad wanted.

I don't like the term "toxic masculinity" but it's very accurate sometimes.

I was allowed to play with toy guns AND with dolls. I ran around playing with Hot Wheels and playing football in the street, and Dad didn't care. If anything, I had the opposite problem from my brother -- a mother and grandmother who pressured me to be demure and "ladylike" and to conform to their ideas of how a little girl should be, which I always resisted. [You can read more about that in my memoir, Talking Back: Stories from the Big Hair and Pantyhose Years, on Amazon.]

My brother went along with Dad's program for him and graduated from high school and went into the Army, then majored in Political Science in college, graduated and spent 10 years in the Army. He went to Iraq in 2008.

The sad thing is that my brother's real passions are food, cooking, and nutrition. His mother and grandmother were also passionately interested in those things as well, so he comes by it honestly. Sadly, I'm quite certain that if he had rejected the Army in favor of a career focused on food, in some way, Dad would not have been supportive.

Dad grew up during the World War II years and he had a passion for everything military. There's nothing wrong with that, but why did he demand that my brother fulfill his dreams, instead of encouraging him to nurture what he found interesting?

I think very traditional men like my dad were always worried that their sons not appear "weak" and anything traditionally categorized as feminine was perceived as weak. I think some dads still think that way, and what a shame for their sons.

My brother was a highly active child, very bright. He started talking at 6 months. At age 2, Mom taught him to read, to entertain him while she was pregnant with me and on bedrest.

His teachers had no idea how to handle him because he was always so bored. Dad wouldn't let him skip a grade or go to a Montessori school, and as a result my brother hated school.

So I admire Max's parents very much. Even if Max ultimately decides to do something other than fashion, his parents will likely be supportive, I'm sure. I'm so glad that attitudes about what is appropriate for little boys are changing. Denying any child the opportunity to pursue what they really enjoy and feel passionate about is not healthy. Forcing children to conform to gender stereotypes is not healthy. Giving children the unspoken idea that a parent's love is conditional upon them conforming to the parents' will is really not healthy.

My daughter once took an aptitude test, in high school, and it said she should be a truck driver. Everyone thought it was funny -- she was a petite, very feminine blonde -- but I told her if she wanted to try for that I'd support her fully.

When I was through with college and having trouble finding a job I told Dad I wanted to be a bartender. He had a fit. He yelled at me. I explained I could tend bar at night and write during the day. He still wouldn't hear of it. The discussion ended with me in tears. A few months later he agreed to pay all my expenses to go to paralegal school. Then he tried to push me into going to law school. He had once been given a scholarship to law school and turned it down -- so I was supposed to fulfill his lawyer dreams. I will always wonder what would have happened if I had become a bartender...

 

Teaching the Children Well

There are so many teachers in my family that I've felt, at times, that I should have followed that path. My mother was a teacher for several years before she had me and my brother. My grandmother Thompson was a teacher. Two of her three sons became teachers. My dad was a banker but he did some teaching in graduate school. I have two close friends who are teachers.

Teaching is one of the most important jobs in the world, if you think about it. If the kids aren't well-taught who will take over when it's time? I am not far from retirement ago, so this is something I ponder daily.

Sadly, I have come to the conclusion that most of our schools are not up to the job. Things need to radically change, but that is not going to happen quickly. Our educational system was designed to make obedient workers, I read recently. It rewards children who are good at sitting still and following directions. It was designed by Prussians, according to this source.

That makes perfect sense.

I was a good kid in school. I behaved myself. I made good grades.

I loved Art, Music, and History classes. I feel so fortunate we actually had Art and Music! I hated Math, and Science was only tolerable.

I was a "good " kid. I didn't bore easily. My brother was not so lucky. I think he might have had some ADHD because he found it very hard to sit still in class and pay attention. Nobody had ever heard of ADHD or ADD in the 1960's and 70's, unfortunately. My brother would have thrived in an unstructured program like Montessori but the tuition was out of reach for my parents.

More and more parents today and choosing to homeschool, and I totally understand that. I homeschooled my daughter for a year, with tutors, since I had to work full time. She was newly adopted and still learning English. It worked well, but then she wanted to go to high school and they agreed to admit her, even though she needed some extra help and an IEP due to some learning issues.

I wish I had been able to stay home and homeschool both my kids, but it just wasn't possible.

Kids like mine who suffered significant trauma often have a hard time in school. Before I adopted my kids they went through a lot. My kids both made good grades and did fine, but they had a Granny at home teaching them, and I got them the help they needed with English.

Even kids from loving and solid homes thrive when homeschooled. I have a cousin who homeschooled both his daughters. They did well. That was years ago, and I thought it was weird at the time but now I totally understand the reasoning behind it. He wanted them taught according to his values, and not exposed to biases, bullying, violence, etc.

I was bullied all through school, until high school. I wouldn't wish that on any child.

Here are a few more thoughts.

I also think children learn best when they learn at their own pace. Being forced to learn just to meet testing standards isn't the best idea, IMHO.

Recess is essential, and I am so thankful I grew up at a time when we got recess breaks daily, right through 8th grade.

I don't think kids should be given smartphones until high school.

I have a friend who adopted 5 children, all with varying degrees of learning issues. Though not a college grad, Cindy quit work and started homeschooling, and did an incredible job. One of her sons owns his own business. One is headed for medical school to be a doctor. You don't have to have a degree in teaching to homeschool your kids.

We need to encourage parents to think outside the box, when it comes to education.

Here endeth the lesson...