Today is Halloween, one of my favorite holidays. I’ve gotten older and my costumes have changed but the fun remains the same. I remember fondly as a child when all I was a pair of too big pants, an old jacket, dirty gym shoes, eyebrow pencil and lipstick smears on the face and a paper bag. Most of the kids in my neighborhood wore some variation of the same. We also had something else in common - camaraderie. We were out and about ringing doorbells, shouting "Trick or Treat" and getting loads of candy. We even went in to the bar on the corner (this was the only time we could) and received treats from the bartender and change from the patrons.
The neighbors feigned shock and awe at the little homemade costumes we wore with pride. They pretended not to know one child from another and along with our candy gave us "a little something extra" like a nickel or a dime. We swapped candy with each other as we ran from house to house. At the end of the night, we all went home happy, bags spilling over with our bounty and watched as our parents emptied said bounty on the table, picking out their favorites and throwing the unwrapped candy in the garbage. Such was Halloween then.
Since that time Halloween has gotten a bad rap. Tales of horror and mayhem abound. Those tales of horror are not stories of teens throwing eggs or slashing tires just for sport. They're not the stories of the apple with the razor blade hidden inside. It's the story of how those of us who deign celebrate Halloween are going to be cursed for all time because Halloween has become Devil's Day. Like me, you're probably checking your calendar of holidays and looking for Devil's Day. Let me save you the trouble. It isn't there. So who declared Halloween the Devil's Day? Why, well-meaning Christians, of course.
I remember when I first heard this. While planning to costume shop for my son, I mentioned the shopping to a friend. She looked at me aghast and uttered "How could you celebrate Halloween? That's the Devil's Day." I thought she was joking but quickly realized she wasn’t. She was serious. So I asked her why she would give the devil a day? She looked at me as if I'd lost all good sense and said that dressing in costume especially as a devil or one of him minions and uttering trick or treat was worshiping the devil. I shook my head and walked away. I didn't get it then and I don't get it now.
Here’s a very brief history of Halloween. The day has both Celtic and European roots and was originally a celebration that marked the end of summer and the harvest season called Samhain. In the seventh century, Pope Boniface IV declared November 1st All Saints Day to honor saints and martyrs and changed what was once a secular holiday into a Christian one. October 31st was declared as All-hallows Eve which was shorted to Halloween. When immigrants came to America from Europe, they brought their Halloween customs with them. In time Halloween developed into a secular but community centered holiday. Today Halloween generates over $5 billion annually in the US alone. Needless to say, we Americans love Halloween.
Over the past 10 or so years, I've heard a number of people declare Halloween the Devil's Day and have kept their children from participating in the festivities. And my question is always the same - why give the devil a day? Is the devil more worthy of a day than Mussolini or Eichmann or Bin Laden? Each of them has done a great many despicable things to humankind. Have you ever once considered having a party or dressing up for Stalin Day? I think not.
It would certainly help if these folks took a minute from condemning others to hell to study a little history. Often it is those who know just a little to take things out of context. Or possibly this tirade about Halloween is about control. One of the best ways to control something is to introduce an element of evil into the game. Cigarette smoking was one of ways cool people were able to show their coolness. Now smoking has been relegated to something akin to having leprosy.
I believe those who declare Halloween the Devil's Day are not trying to be hurtful. They honestly believe the rhetoric about Halloween although there is no such uproar about Santa. They believe criticizing the government is treason regardless of wrongs the government may perpetrate in our name. They believe drinking any form of liquor is against God although Jesus being the party animal that he was certainly didn't think so. His first miracle was turning water into wine to the party could continue. They believe it's wrong to have an abortion but okay to execute a criminal because they can distinguish good killing from bad. They believe their way is the only way, the right way without giving any credence to the billions of people who may believe otherwise.
It's a good thing that all who believe in God do not have the power of God. Too many people would be condemned to hell and humankind has devised so many ways to hurry and get us there. It's a good thing that so many believe in the notion of a kind, loving God regardless of whether God is proclaimed he or she or is called Yahweh, Allah, Jehovah, Krishna or Satnam. What matters is that God loves us all in spite of our foolishness and believes that life should be lived well. So if that means dressing up as a pirate or princess or clown or even a little devil, sticking up your neighbors for a chocolate bar while yelling "Trick of Treat," so be it.
Now if you will excuse me, I need a nap. I just eaten my body's weight in chocolate because we had left over candy from Hallo, excuse me, Devil's Day.
SOCIAL ISSUES | POLITICS | RACISM | INTERNATIONAL AFFAIRS
Thursday, October 31, 2013
Monday, October 14, 2013
Step Away from the Self-Help Aisle and Help Yourself
Have you ever wandered through the self-help aisle in a bookstore? I do it every time I visit either a new or used bookstore. The number of books claiming to help us find joy, happiness, contentment, creativity, life force and the like is staggering. I never realized how many people out there who have given such great thought to helping the rest of us live a fulfilled life. It never occurred to me that so many of us were so screwed up that we needed more than 100 other people to help us do so.
The usual suspects are always there. Tony Robbins, Dr. Phil, Eckhart Tolle, Iyanla Vanzant, Rick Warren and Joel Osteen, to name a few, have at least two books in this category. I find it interesting that almost each of these people is a motivational speaker, a psychologist or a minister. They’ve all come through some sort of personal crisis and each has come out on the other side with great wisdom to share and great amounts of money earned. Each one is a living encyclopedia of the “get up and get moving” pronouncement. If not that, it’s the “get up, get praying and then get moving” declaration.
Don’t get me wrong. I know there are millions of people who are in need of guidance. Anti-depressants are being prescribed in record amounts to the young and the old. Suicides are on the rise. Cults are pointing at the changes in nature and proclaiming we are in the last days. Religious cable channels have tripled within the past 10 years. Plastic surgery and body modification is no longer the exception but the rule as we mold and shape ourselves in an attempt to stay young and lithe. Even the rich and famous seem to be out of control trying to find their way. What the hell is happening to us?
For as long as I can remember there have been self-help books. Napoleon Hill’s Think and Grow Rich, Dale Carnegie’s How to Win Friends and Influence People, Dr. Norman Vincent Peale’s The Power of Positive Thinking and the Bible were the books I remembered from my youth. Almost every household had at least one of these books on the shelves and they all had a Bible. These were the tomes people turned to when they were depressed or looking for the way to a fulfilled life.
Fast forward to 1987 and Joseph Campbell’s The Power of Myth opened the flood gates. From there came Stephen Covey’s The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People and Susan Jeffers’ Feel the Fear and Do It Anyway. The 1990’s introduced Robert Bly’s Iron John, Anthony Robbins’ The Giant Within, M. Scott Peck’s The Road Less Traveled, Richard Carlson’s Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff and Deepak Chopra’s The Seven Spiritual Laws of Success. According to the Columbus Dispatch in January of this year, an estimated 2000 self-help books are published annually resulting in a $10 billion a year business. Self-help books sell more generally in January when people are looking to start over in the New Year.
What does this say about us as people? Is it possible that we need guidance from 2000 books to turn our lives around? Have we become so lost that we actually believe our problems, our lives, our successes and our losses can all be corrected or directed by someone who has no knowledge of us personally? Have we strayed so far from our center?
I wish had the answer. I wish I could recommend one of those 2000 books that would answer all those questions. I wish I could tell you why you’re here, tell you what you were destined to be or what you are destined to do. But I can’t. I can’t because I don’t know you. And on any given day, I don’t even know me.
I’ll share with you what I do know. Sometimes asking the questions is enough. Sometimes taking a deep breath is enough. Sometimes crying until you fall asleep is enough. Sometimes giving yourself a hug is enough. Sometimes it’s the small things that answer the big questions.
Most importantly, I know what I don’t want. That gives me a place to start. Sometimes knowing what you don’t want can help lead you to what you do. That may not be the way you would answer the life questions but it’s a start. Sometimes a start is all you need.
The usual suspects are always there. Tony Robbins, Dr. Phil, Eckhart Tolle, Iyanla Vanzant, Rick Warren and Joel Osteen, to name a few, have at least two books in this category. I find it interesting that almost each of these people is a motivational speaker, a psychologist or a minister. They’ve all come through some sort of personal crisis and each has come out on the other side with great wisdom to share and great amounts of money earned. Each one is a living encyclopedia of the “get up and get moving” pronouncement. If not that, it’s the “get up, get praying and then get moving” declaration.
Don’t get me wrong. I know there are millions of people who are in need of guidance. Anti-depressants are being prescribed in record amounts to the young and the old. Suicides are on the rise. Cults are pointing at the changes in nature and proclaiming we are in the last days. Religious cable channels have tripled within the past 10 years. Plastic surgery and body modification is no longer the exception but the rule as we mold and shape ourselves in an attempt to stay young and lithe. Even the rich and famous seem to be out of control trying to find their way. What the hell is happening to us?
For as long as I can remember there have been self-help books. Napoleon Hill’s Think and Grow Rich, Dale Carnegie’s How to Win Friends and Influence People, Dr. Norman Vincent Peale’s The Power of Positive Thinking and the Bible were the books I remembered from my youth. Almost every household had at least one of these books on the shelves and they all had a Bible. These were the tomes people turned to when they were depressed or looking for the way to a fulfilled life.
Fast forward to 1987 and Joseph Campbell’s The Power of Myth opened the flood gates. From there came Stephen Covey’s The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People and Susan Jeffers’ Feel the Fear and Do It Anyway. The 1990’s introduced Robert Bly’s Iron John, Anthony Robbins’ The Giant Within, M. Scott Peck’s The Road Less Traveled, Richard Carlson’s Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff and Deepak Chopra’s The Seven Spiritual Laws of Success. According to the Columbus Dispatch in January of this year, an estimated 2000 self-help books are published annually resulting in a $10 billion a year business. Self-help books sell more generally in January when people are looking to start over in the New Year.
What does this say about us as people? Is it possible that we need guidance from 2000 books to turn our lives around? Have we become so lost that we actually believe our problems, our lives, our successes and our losses can all be corrected or directed by someone who has no knowledge of us personally? Have we strayed so far from our center?
I wish had the answer. I wish I could recommend one of those 2000 books that would answer all those questions. I wish I could tell you why you’re here, tell you what you were destined to be or what you are destined to do. But I can’t. I can’t because I don’t know you. And on any given day, I don’t even know me.
I’ll share with you what I do know. Sometimes asking the questions is enough. Sometimes taking a deep breath is enough. Sometimes crying until you fall asleep is enough. Sometimes giving yourself a hug is enough. Sometimes it’s the small things that answer the big questions.
Most importantly, I know what I don’t want. That gives me a place to start. Sometimes knowing what you don’t want can help lead you to what you do. That may not be the way you would answer the life questions but it’s a start. Sometimes a start is all you need.
Tuesday, October 8, 2013
Happy Birthday to Us
Today is my son’s birthday. He looks much the same as he did when he was little boy. Yes, he’s grown taller and his voice is most certainly deeper. He has a beard, a thick head of hair and curses. I remind his about his language when we’re together. And no matter how old he gets, he’s still my baby boy.
Time goes by so quickly when you have a child. It seems the kid was just a kid several years ago. While you’re busy helping with homework, making cupcakes for school events and attending PTA meetings, you are so much in the moment that you never connect with time. When you head comes up from everything child related in your life, you realize that years have passed and you never got to really know your child. You child has become an adult and you didn’t have the chance to take notice of this adult in the making.
It has been difficult to reconcile the fact that my son is a grown man with a life of his own. I cried the first day I took him to school as did he. I watched as he made friends and had sleepovers. I took him to his first dance with his first girlfriend. I waited patiently for him to come home just before his 11pm curfew. I remember the conversation we had about him losing his virginity. I cried as he walked across the stage when he received his high school diploma. And I watched him walk to the bus stop as he left for his first day of college. Yet with all these memories and more, it never once occurred to me that he would become a man. Yes, I dreamed of him as a man. I wanted him to live through big city violence and police profiling to become a man. But I was so busy being his mother that I had no time to see him as a distinct human being. And that’s the real tragedy of motherhood.
I remember the day he was born like it was yesterday because for me, it was just yesterday. I saw that wizened face with the little arms drawn up and I was head over heels in love. At that moment, I knew I would give up everything in order for this child to live. Like every mother before me and probably every mother to be, I experienced the thrill of unconditional love.
Every mother knows this feeling and it doesn’t matter if you’ve given birth to the child or whether an agency places that child in your arms. You are a mother and it is a badge worn proudly until the day you die.
And with all this love and joy, I still wonder in my quiet moments what my life would have been like had my son not been born.
Any mother who says she has not wondered this is either fooling herself or lying. Mostly likely, she’s doing both. Society frowns on that type of speculation. So be it. Frown away if that makes you happy. But it doesn’t stop me from wondering what I could have done or where might I have gone. Would I have travelled around the world as I had planned? Would I become the great newspaper reporter I wanted to be? Would I have moved to Los Angeles and followed my dream of being a producer? Would I have remained single, being free to take lovers as I choose? Would my life have been the adventure I thought it would be if only I hadn’t had a child?
There are no answers to those questions. I can only answer that those dreams did not come to pass. But now that my son is an adult and living his own life, I can still make some of those dreams a reality. I’m not too old and feeble to travel and my passport is up to date. I am still a good writer and I have the clips to prove it. I can move to Los Angeles and look up some folks I know in the entertainment industry. If I were willing to cheat on my husband, I could certainly have a lover or two but I don’t have the inclination. There is still adventure to be had. It may not be what I had in mind when I was in my 20’s, 30’s or 40’s but adventure is always waiting if you’re willing follow its lead.
So not only is it my son’s birthday, it’s also mine. His birthday has given me as much freedom as it has given him. I’ve been the best mother I could possibly be. My son can vouch for that. He’s had the best childhood I could give him. He’s well travelled and well read. He is a published author and works with youth at his high school alma mater. He is living his life honorably with nothing detrimental in his way. He is only hampered by the limitations he may place upon himself. I have given him all that I can and it is up to him to determine if he wants to be all that he can be.
I love my son. I would never trade the experience of being his mother. He gave as much to me as I have given him. After life, the greatest gift I can give to him is to release him from being my baby. And the best gift he can give to me is to accept it.
Time goes by so quickly when you have a child. It seems the kid was just a kid several years ago. While you’re busy helping with homework, making cupcakes for school events and attending PTA meetings, you are so much in the moment that you never connect with time. When you head comes up from everything child related in your life, you realize that years have passed and you never got to really know your child. You child has become an adult and you didn’t have the chance to take notice of this adult in the making.
It has been difficult to reconcile the fact that my son is a grown man with a life of his own. I cried the first day I took him to school as did he. I watched as he made friends and had sleepovers. I took him to his first dance with his first girlfriend. I waited patiently for him to come home just before his 11pm curfew. I remember the conversation we had about him losing his virginity. I cried as he walked across the stage when he received his high school diploma. And I watched him walk to the bus stop as he left for his first day of college. Yet with all these memories and more, it never once occurred to me that he would become a man. Yes, I dreamed of him as a man. I wanted him to live through big city violence and police profiling to become a man. But I was so busy being his mother that I had no time to see him as a distinct human being. And that’s the real tragedy of motherhood.
I remember the day he was born like it was yesterday because for me, it was just yesterday. I saw that wizened face with the little arms drawn up and I was head over heels in love. At that moment, I knew I would give up everything in order for this child to live. Like every mother before me and probably every mother to be, I experienced the thrill of unconditional love.
Every mother knows this feeling and it doesn’t matter if you’ve given birth to the child or whether an agency places that child in your arms. You are a mother and it is a badge worn proudly until the day you die.
And with all this love and joy, I still wonder in my quiet moments what my life would have been like had my son not been born.
Any mother who says she has not wondered this is either fooling herself or lying. Mostly likely, she’s doing both. Society frowns on that type of speculation. So be it. Frown away if that makes you happy. But it doesn’t stop me from wondering what I could have done or where might I have gone. Would I have travelled around the world as I had planned? Would I become the great newspaper reporter I wanted to be? Would I have moved to Los Angeles and followed my dream of being a producer? Would I have remained single, being free to take lovers as I choose? Would my life have been the adventure I thought it would be if only I hadn’t had a child?
There are no answers to those questions. I can only answer that those dreams did not come to pass. But now that my son is an adult and living his own life, I can still make some of those dreams a reality. I’m not too old and feeble to travel and my passport is up to date. I am still a good writer and I have the clips to prove it. I can move to Los Angeles and look up some folks I know in the entertainment industry. If I were willing to cheat on my husband, I could certainly have a lover or two but I don’t have the inclination. There is still adventure to be had. It may not be what I had in mind when I was in my 20’s, 30’s or 40’s but adventure is always waiting if you’re willing follow its lead.
So not only is it my son’s birthday, it’s also mine. His birthday has given me as much freedom as it has given him. I’ve been the best mother I could possibly be. My son can vouch for that. He’s had the best childhood I could give him. He’s well travelled and well read. He is a published author and works with youth at his high school alma mater. He is living his life honorably with nothing detrimental in his way. He is only hampered by the limitations he may place upon himself. I have given him all that I can and it is up to him to determine if he wants to be all that he can be.
I love my son. I would never trade the experience of being his mother. He gave as much to me as I have given him. After life, the greatest gift I can give to him is to release him from being my baby. And the best gift he can give to me is to accept it.
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