Foremost on my Mind: Who's Crying Now?

There is no question that my greatest joy in these past two-to-three years has been the safe and healthy arrival, as well as their subsequent development, of grandchildren. Even if there aren't anymore, I will consider myself a very fortunate person.

The “anymore” comment, by the way, is not an announcement, pronouncement, or denouncement, either. (I know, I know, the word is “denunciation,” but it doesn't help my witty symmetry--so knock it off, Maurice.)

I'm sure many readers can relate to the joy that grandchildren bring.

So let's talk about those grand kids of yours, mine, and ours—but not in a bragging, blathering way...please. In fact, let's add all the children of today to this discussion. Hard to think that the babies who need their diapers changed today will be the consumers who will need their oil changed tomorrow.

Children who become adults also become voters, merchants, politicians, professionals, stakeholders, and more. Scary thought, indeed, but perhaps for reasons other than the ones that are racing through your head.

You see, on a recent trip to Kamloops, BC, having spent part of a morning at a community park with two of those little darlings, it was a bit of a wake-up call for me. Years ago, I actually started my teaching career in Kamloops. Based on the merciless calendar, it's quite feasible that some of the young mothers present at the park that day could have been students of mine two decades ago. If not them, then at least they represent those former students.

You might say that, over the years, I have taught children, who are now having children—who will one day have children themselves. (Quick: Where's my cane? And my teeth, while you're at it.)

I was with my own grandchildren, children of a child herself who has become an adult—and a very competent mother, I might add. It seems just like yesterday that this very daughter herself was playing with her siblings in a water park in Kamloops. My, oh, my, where did the last twenty years go?

Our children have been given to us as a gift; or, consider them like clay or putty or blank paper in our hands. Their grasp of ethics, morality, virtue, spirituality, manners, and more, are in our hands. Frightening, isn't it?

Some of those duties we hand off to day school, Sunday school, grandparents, and YTV. The more we hand off the training of our gifts (= children), the less direct influence we have over those children. That has been happening for years—and we are seeing the direct results today.

That is one reason, I may insert here, why some people home educate.

So, back to me, and you, and all other responsible parents and grandparents: How am I preparing my kids and grand kids to assume the reins for the next generation? How are we training our kids in view of education, marriage, finances, ethnicity, and employment (just for starters)? However, even before we ask that question, we first need to take a serious look at the pursuit of character, namely, sincerity, honesty, diligence, and whole host of other virtues.

We really, really need to develop a generation of soon-to-be leaders who are men and women of character. In other words, the pillars of integrity, ethics, morality, and conviction are really the supports of the overall societal structure, if you will. Re-stated: If we are raising children to be upright and honest, we are establishing a basis that will stand them (and others) in good stead for the future--and for generations to come.

You see, that three-year-old who stands up in his or her crib and screams at his or her parents may end up being the thirty-three-year-old who stands on the street corner and screams at the government someday, if we're not diligent in training them.

Or hopefully, he or she may be the person of the hour when there is an economic or moral crisis in our community. That training process doesn't start when they're teens, either; it starts much, much younger than that.

Do we want our kids or grand kids to make a difference in their generation? I'm sure we all do. If you dawdle, those children might be having their own children—and we'll be yet another generation out.

Foremost on my Mind: Cleveland: Are We There Yet?

One of those really outstanding feel-good stories within the last few months has been the recent rescue of those three girls from their house prison in Cleveland. Once the dust settles and normalcy returns (such as it might be), there might be some interesting angles uncovered.

In the mean time, let's rejoice that at least they are alive and have life ahead of them.

Ironically, the Rehtaeh Parsons story didn't have quite the same happy ending. And maybe I should throw in Amanda Todd's name while I'm at it. These girls—from both ends of Canada (Nova Scotia and British Columbia, respectively)--took their own lives, due in large to the sex-crazed, cyber bullying that is becoming so desperately prevalent these days.

Girls and their victimization—what a topic! Whether one is a female, the father or teacher of a female, or a friend of a female, I'm sure we can all agree that this is not a good time to be a female. A diligent student of history would beg to differ, saying that it has never been a good time to be a female, what with all the sexual, physical, and emotional abuse that women have endured for the past 10,000 years. That certainly is worth thinking about.

We all share some culpability in these crimes. It's not just that sex monster from Cleveland that's guilty. To be sure, he is guilty of sexual abuse and should be punished with the full force of the law. But there are some other factors to consider.

I think of Hollywood, for example, and how it presents sexy babes, adding pressure to women to dress and act like one. Even staid (and not-so staid) merchants are guilty: Look at their catalogues, their displays, their wares. I personally feel violated walking down any mall these days, and I certainly can't take a stroll down there with my sons, either.

And I haven't even touched the primary source of vice against all women, namely, pornography.

On the one hand, women of any age or shape should resist saying, doing, or wearing anything that would arouse the unbridled passions of men; but on the other hand, men with any sense of integrity and responsibility should likewise hold back, learning to control their passions. Males are very, very dangerous when aroused under the wrong circumstances.

It doesn't help that anything you want in a vicarious sense is only a click away; and it likewise doesn't help that sex shops, DVDs, toys and magazines, are very freely available to anyone and everyone, with only a token age restriction. It would be easy to lay the blame at the feet on the city fathers for not closing down these moral cesspools, and that would be good step in the right direction. But we as ordinary citizens with a mutual concern need to do our part, too.

The last time I checked, no one was forced to walk into these places, click on these buttons, or even phone that number. While sex is a force as intense as hunger and as passionate as self-preservation, one needs to employ the same rules of restraint. Hungry? Just eat enough of your food to satisfy your needs; don't take someone else's food, please. Self-preservation? Push back or flee, but don't use excessive force to kill someone else.

If not, then there will be many more Clevelands out there, getting closer.

In fact, who's to say they're not out there now? You may recall the story of Elizabeth Smart, kidnapped in Utah in 2002 She too was rescued “safely” nine months later, and has gone on to be a force for good in this whole sex-slave obsession. Her attacker even had a strange twist, namely, he had a religious bent. Last time I checked, the Good Book doesn't condone uncontrolled sexual abuse; in fact, it actually denounces it.

Sexual intimacy between a male and female committed to each other for life is the best and safest course to take, to say nothing of the most natural and secure approach. Eating out of control leads to gluttony, drinking out of control leads to debauchery, and sexual expression likewise leads to pain, grief, and even death.

I have no idea what bad habits the alleged perpetrator, this sexual monster, developed to get to the point where he could confine three young women for ten years (give or take a year here and there, depending upon when he stole the girls). It would be wise to check what sorts of thing he read and viewed.

While it might be surprising, it shouldn't be. It would actually be more alarming than surprising. You see, we know where a lot of this stuff is sitting, and we know how to get at it. If we had any moral moxie, we would demand every retailer to take out everything that smacks of sexual poison from their shelves and windows.

Unfortunately, however, because of the misapplication of freedom of speech and its cousin, human rights (unless you are promoting traditional marriage, of course), we can't stop this flood of filth.

One wonders how many more “Clevelands” we need to experience, or deaths like those of Rehtaeh and Amanda we need before we as a culture wise up.

Trying asking their parents.

Foremost on my Mind: Caring for Parents

One of the advantages, even pleasures, of a growing extended family is the widening circles of relationships, experiences, and support, for the privilege of having sons-in-law and their families. I would even throw free accommodation in there as part of the package.

Both of my daughters have very industrious mothers-in-law. I'm thinking of one of them in particular. We'll call her Karen. She took on the role of motherhood with gusto, walking away from a full-time teaching position to raise a family. Over the course of only a few years, she and her husband, we'll call him Evan, had eight children—seven boys, one daughter.

Evan and Karen loved their kids, and of the eight, two (2) had Down syndrome. Among other skills, the rest became extremely gifted musicians and vocalists. In fact, the first four sons perform as barbershop quartet.

That would have been enough for me to hand over my daughter. Okay, okay, not quite. He still had to be rich.

In addition to raising a large family of mostly boys, and dealing with the Down syndrome challenges, Evan and Karen took in their respective widowed parents—his mother and her father. It seems years ago now, and today I just got word of the passing of Karen's father.

Imagine her mixed reaction to that: On the one hand, there must be sense of relief, because there was a 24-7 demand on her plate, shared somewhat by the rest of the family, directly or indirectly; but on the other hand, there will be the expected grief. He was her father, after all.

I am not saying she is the poster girl for what all responsible daughters should do, ie., taking in their aged parent(s), but she is very much a heroine to me on that score. Unlike so many others her age, she is still caring for a family at home, plus the generation before her.

I know of others who have built houses with in-law suites in them, so their ageing parents can live in a measure of independence, as long as health allows. That doesn't have the same demands, but it still is a worthy choice.

I don't think stuffing her old people into a care home was ever an option for Karen. Granted, there are extenuating circumstances may warrant this at times, but it seems best to end one's life in a home setting—whether old or dying.

We can be told what to do for some things, or even read about them in a book (or a column like this!), but the best instructional manual is called living reality, that is, seeing it modelled in real life. I have felt that way about rearing kids, romance, marriage, and now caring for the elderly. Karen has been very much a living reality for me on that score.

Is there a place for an old folks' home? I suppose. When the care is too much to bear for the other spouse, or the responsible son or daughter, that's a viable option. But the optimum care home is, well, home where there's care. There could be creative ways to carry it out, with daily respite visits, house calls by medical professionals, even shared duties by other family members.

I see a win-win-win here. There is the economic win (Maurice, that would mean it is lower costs for everyone, especially the government). Then there is the emotional win, meaning a diminished sense of alienation on the one hand, and a greater sense of bonding on the other. Finally, there is the familial win, meaning the grandchildren learn to help the helpless and get to know & love their grandparents to the end of life.

The ideal would be to allow ageing parents to enjoy a quality of life in a home setting for as long as possible and reasonable. Would there be pitfalls or difficulties? Indeed. It's called life, and life is full of pitfalls and difficulties, so get used to it. One must weigh up the pros and cons of both options. I suggest there are more pros with longer home stays.

As I write, Evan and Karen have not buried her father. By the time you read this, they will have. But it's not like she will be on “easy street” finally. Remember her family configuration? She will now simply have more time to serve others.

Methinks she wouldn't want it any other way. It strikes me that her parents raised her well.

Foremost on my Mind: Home on the Strange

One of the greatest fallacies out there—maybe even right up there with global warming—is that of the trouble-free, peaceful farm life. To be sure, there is nothing like waking up to the quiet solitude of an acreage, the shrill alarm call of a rooster, and the gentle bellowing of cows.

That would be on most days, of course.

Silence is golden, though it can be a little tarnished. And the ear-piercing wake-up call of said rooster wears thin after a few mornings, though the occasional noise may still be in order. But it's the so-called gentle bellowing of cows that gets me more rattled than a flashing red and blue lights behind me.

Cows bellow when they're hungry...and when they're not hungry. They bellow when they are meandering through the pasture, usually for no rational reason. But it's when my cows are bellowing from someone else's pasture that really, really gets to me.

I mean, after all, if you're going to run away from home, er, the corral, please do it quietly.

Case in point: I am in the process of shifting my cows from one pasture to another, so as to free up said pastures to replenish themselves. This is old hat for many of you, but the moving of cows and securing of fences is still a big deal to a city slicker like me.

Last summer, with the help of two of my sons, I was able to create two new pastures—and were even able to use one of them after the hay was taken off. This year, however, when we tried the same thing, they lasted only two days—“lasted,” meaning they ended up searching for better water (in the river, outside my pasture) and searching for better grass (in the neighbour's field—again, outside my pasture).

My kids will testify that there is one individual here who is very responsible when it comes to chasing errant cows. That same individual, however, is also very hyper and uptight while doing it. And in case you haven't connected the dots, I are he—or would that be me-me-me-me?

I cannot say why I fall apart when cows get out. It's not like they're a bunch of teenage rogues, hanging around 7-11. These cows are simply doing what cows do, namely, looking for grass, water, and a place to lie down. (Uhmm, there are some distinct similarities with those teens, who also looking for a different type of grass, a different type of liquid, and a place to lie down.)

I have found rounding up cows on foot both a challenge and an art. There has to be some thinking through, well before one actually goes after them. I have learned these tips (and am still learning), so I thought I would pass them along.

One, don't yell. No matter how much you have the urge to. Yelling implies the cows are deaf and/or stupid, which they're not. It just adds to the “excitement” of the process, and one doesn't want excited cows.

Two, be human. That is, you are the human, you are not the cow. You are running after the cows, hopefully not the other way around. Keep that order in mind, please. If it is reversed, then you are in far, far more trouble than this column can deal with. My point is that you should be able to out-maneuver them, usually with foresight and forethought.

And, three, keep perspective. If this was, say, downtown Medicine Hat or even Taber, then you would have big issues. But when it's one field leading to another, it's not quite as serious. Cows can get mixed up in other herds, they can get out on the roads, to be sure, with all the inherent inconvenience that brings.

To me, it's a wonder why they don't get out more frequently. The three or four strands of barbed wire should be good enough to keep them in, but when they want to get out—especially bulls-- nothing is going to stop them.

No even a calm, cool, collected human. Like someone else, other than me.