Oh, for the love of Freedom

This is my last post until September. I haven't found a corporate sponsor to pay for housekeeping. I tried to enslave my mother in law, but soon realized such activity would ruin any future shot at public office, and anyway she wriggled out. So, I am taking a break to dive into a local project. It won't change the world, but will have a positive effect on my corner of it (and maybe improve a few personal skills for future endeavors). I'll be back.

And, if I'm well-rested, watch out.

What is it about having two friends outstretching their hands? You might as well hold all 24 of those birthday candles up against my bare backside.

I often write about finding silver linings. The more frustrated I become, the angrier I am, the more I rely on this forum to find the humor, to laugh at myself, and to remember why those I love are, in fact, those I love so very much.

When I see glue on my floor, I take pictures and laugh.

When I see apathy, I dig deep in my memory for all of those people who are NOT apathetic.

Last Thursday, I wrote about apathy. In my camera are pictures of my son’s absolutely wonderful seventh birthday party, trips to the park, silly games played under my laundry basket. I haven’t been able to write about any of it. It isn’t that it wasn’t wonderful and I can’t put together a lovely essay. I could, I suppose. I could. I just don’t want to.

I find it difficult to sip my coffee dantily when I am watching a train wreck.

I’m a little hot under the collar.

But, that piece about apathy was about me in a way. (I don’t really have an apathetic bone in my body – call it a fault – but I don’t, really, call it aggressive avoidance).

Although it would be highly self-centered to assume that I was the intended audience for either Pauline or Brigette’s blogs, they spoke to me as if I were. Isn’t that why we read?

I have been intending to write about all of the various issues of the day, to add my two cents like I did last Fall, but I have been cleverly delaying it.

I was having an otherwise fine day hatching an excellent plan to further technology and education in the Cleveland area. I am very happy with my fine, new project and even mentioned to my husband last week that I might stop blogging, at least for awhile.

So. There.

But, that isn't the end of it, is it? We need our voices to be heard. We also need to balance our lives, and we all know that is as rediculous as some current policies (I'll avoid the cheap shot that I wanted to include here).

I am concerned about our schools losing millions dollars over the next couple of years. It makes me want to scream. My staying at home is not compatible with my kids going to an expensive private school. I must be the only one who cannot afford it.

I am concerned about health care. I’ve been in a dirty hospital overseas. I have had a doctor tell me that if my knees are hurting me, I should just stop running. I was told I don’t need a vaccine, but if I get that disease, don’t come back to their office.

I am concerned about the economy. I have made a lifetime worth of decisions based on the fact that my children can go to school and make as much money as their achievements are worth. They can shoot for the moon, even if their peers are apathetic.

I think ‘cash for clunkers’ is ridiculous.

I do think an awful lot of people spend too much time on absolutely nothing. The apathy incenses me. Instead of blogging last night, I sat next to my husband and actually watched part of a show about ‘celebrity plastic surgery.’ My husband switched to it every time the History Channel show about Zeus went to commercial.

Was someone actually watching that on purpose?? Have we nothing better to do?

Maybe that is what freedom is all about. We have the freedom to be stupid if we wish. I recall talking to someone who had met a WWII veteran and asked that veteran if he was upset that ‘kids these days don’t care about the sacrifices he made.’ You know what he said? He said that he was happy that kids these days don’t worry about it, because that is exactly what he was fighting for. Yeah. Really?

Perhaps, but I do believe that our ‘freedom’ is simply based on how we define our relationship with others. Our system of government is the structure within which we have those relationships. It is like a marriage, a friendship, or any other relationship.
Relationships are based on mutual respect. And, frankly, take a little bit of maintenance.

Our freedom requires constant maintenance. It takes work. It is not an unchallengeable god-given fact that we can make our own decisions.

I’m no good sitting idly by and watching a train wreck any more than I can watch celebrity TV.

Pauline and Brigette, I probably don’t need you to hold my hand. A little fire under my bare backside will do the trick just fine. But, now that I have received that gift, I would be honored to stand and hold hands with you – and everyone else too.

In September.

Ted

I looked at my calendar today and I thought about Ted. Of all the people with whom I shared my high school experience, I probably think of Ted more often than most. I doubt Ted thinks much about me.

He may not remember my name.

In the past month, I have been very “helpful” within my community. I organized a group to help with Habitat for Humanity. I made a pillow and wrote a poem for a friend fighting cancer. I am co-chairing a giving tree program. I helped to organize and execute a group of 15 or so women to make Christmas tree ornaments for a charity. I hosted a cub scout meeting. I hosted another family for Thanksgiving. My family shopped and cooked a meal for 50 folks we otherwise would have never met (one man even took our picture). I presided over a homeowners’ meeting. I attended a PTA Council meeting and spoke on behalf of my son’s school. I even attended a Board of Education meeting.

That was just November.

For every event or opportunity that I have the pleasure of promoting, I feel there are at least ten that fall to the sidelines. We all say ‘no.’ I try to say ‘no’ with no guilt, no apology, and very little explanation.

I remind myself of Ted.

When Ted and I were 15 years old, we worked together at a church camp. I cannot say we were good friends, but we had known each other since early elementary school. He passed every test he felt like passing. Naturally smart, he ran with a streak of menace about him. I knew him for too long to buy into the ‘tough guy’ routine, but we simply were not in the same circles, really. I saw him in a few ‘gifted’ classes and at church.

His mother was the original “church lady.” If something happened in our church, her name was on it.

Ted liked medieval weapons. You know, throwing stars, brass knuckles, num chucks and the like. He had taken num chucks to his father’s car a few days earlier. I heard his parents had him arrested, although I never confirmed that rumor. He was always frighteningly clever. That day, he was angry.

We were in charge of small children. This was a church day camp. The oldest person present was 21 years old (a week or so later that responsible 21 year old would be purposely dousing me with lighter fluid, but that is another story). Ted stormed off into the parking lot.

I walked after him. It went something like this.

“Ted!”

“What do you want?!”

“Ted, what’s going on?”

“I’m p$%ssed. Go away!”

Silence, save for his fist hitting his car.

“That D*mn B!T**ch!”

“Who?!”

“My @#$ mother.”

“She seems alright. I mean, she does a lot of stuff for the church . . . ”

“OH, YEAH, that’s right. She does a LOT of stuff for the stupid church. Yeah, she doesn’t give a CR#*P. She does a lot for the church to make HERSELF feel good and important, f*%g high and mighty, she doesn’t care about ANYONE else. F&%* B%&*%ch.”

More silence.

“So, fine, Ted. You are SO SMART. You can run circles around anyone in our school and you’re going to throw all that away, just because she’s stupid?!! That makes sense. You are WAY smarter than that, Ted. You can do anything you want if you don’t screw it up.”

He stopped hitting the car.

We walked back in silence, and never said another word about it.





I heard your message, Ted. I wonder if your mother ever knew how much her 'tough guy' missed her.