Wednesday, August 29, 2012

Toddler Pageant


E. Boyer

Why do we go straight to “That’s awesome!”  and “You’re amazing!” with our kids?  What about telling them that they’re pretty darned good or that if they keep trying they’ll be better or to keep at it and they’ll get there?  Awesome and amazing? Really?  Albert Einstein,  Leonardo DaVinci and the Grand Canyon are all examples of amazing.  The elementary school art show...not so much.  Good?  Yes.  Darling?  Absolutely.  But, awesome?  Well, let’s see.  Did it fill you with awe?  Did it have the capacity to inspire awe?  Did you experience a feeling of reverential respect mixed with fear and wonder?  No, I didn’t think so.

It’s hard for kids who have been told at every brush stroke or bat swing or high note that they’re the best and I imagine it’s a great disappointment to them when they discover on their own that they really aren’t.  They have eyes and ears and brains and when the competition out shines them, they know it.  Piedmont is a bite-sized town, folks.  Because your son is the football star here, is no guarantee that the the same will be true when he goes to college.  Because your daughter is the darling of the drama department here, doesn’t seal any deal for her on Broadway. It’s a big world filled with many talented and gifted people.  Indeed, you child may be one of them.  But, maybe not.  In fact, probably not.  But, we all see great things in our children, don’t we?  I know I did.  I was genuinely interested in seeing all of their mediocre artwork, hearing all of their abysmal musical pieces and watching all of their bush-league sporting events.  They held 100% of my attention and interest.  They really did seem more talented than the other children, but only because they were my children and my eyes couldn’t see it any other way.  It’s nature’s built-in mechanism for protecting children...parents are blinded by complete adoration for the little ruffians!  Otherwise they’d be tossed out on their ear for being so wretched in the teenage years!  

A word of advice to parents.  Stop bragging so much about your kids.  It’s one thing to be proud, but it’s another thing, entirely, to be an obnoxious bore about the (debatable) accomplishments of your children.  I offer this advice with your very best interest in mind.  You see, it’s embarrassing as hell to squawk about the college offers that await thanks to you child’s athletic talent, only to discover that those offers actually only go to the genuinely talented 0.09% of the of the country’s 250,000 high school talent pool which, incidentally, often makes Piedmont athletics look like Kinder-Kids Sports Camp.  Same goes for your student with the 4.0 GPA...a shoe-in for UCLA.  Kid stuff.  Sorry, they’ll have to get in line behind the other 53,000 who have equally impressive grades and far more interesting life-stories.  Oh, sure, a couple of kids will make it to a coach’s look-see roster or the go-to-the-head-of-the-class academic list, but most won’t. It must feel like a giant sucker-punch after being told by their parents all those years that they were the best.

It’s tough out there, folks.  Believe me when I tell you that the kids have their ear to ground and their finger on the pulse of all this stuff.  They know how they stack up.. on the real-world meter and the parent meter.  Imagine their difficulty in having to reconcile the two very different realities.  That’s the part that worries me.  It’s natural to boast a bit about our kids..distasteful and irritating, yes, but natural.  It’s the insane public promotion campaignthat begins in 9th grade and ends sadly and abruptly when, instead of the full ride to UCLA that the parents have blabbed about incessantly, they pack off to an obscure feeder program on the outskirts of Milwaukee!  Good Lord, people!  Stop doing this to your children and stop doing it to yourself.  Yes, everyone is talking about you.  When you think they’re listening and interested in yet another recital about your child, they’re actually counting the times you say his/her name because they have $100 riding in the neighborhood betting pool that you’ll exceed your past party record.  Yep, it’s come to that.  You’re the subject of a betting pool!  It’s as whack-a-doodle as a toddler pageant, but with bigger kids!

Here’s the thing...the Milwaukee feeder school is just fine.  It only seems somehow bad because it’s being compared to Stephen Hawking/LeBron James/Eleanor Roosevelt’esque plan that got into the head of some poor kid’s parent.  The result?  A child feeling salty because his/her parents did way too much grand-standing.  

Love ‘em, folks.  Chances are, they aren’t headed for the splendor and greatness that you imagine. But, they’re all pretty good and mostly headed for pretty good things.  

In the meantime, I’ve got fifty bucks on you-know-who to break the record...   

Wednesday, August 22, 2012

Usually Involves Toast


E. Boyer

It’s good to take a break.  Gives us time to think and breathe and consider.  When I sat down to write this column, the topic I had in mind was objectionable people, but upon further contemplation, I decided that there’s no shortage of objectionable people in Piedmont, many of whom will be here for a long time and therefore plenty of time to write about them.  So, I turned my mind to someone who will only be here for a short time, more.  This, in turn, led me to two topics that I rarely confront in my column.  Sadness...and toast.

The best compliment my column could ever achieve has always been a nod from the Post’s seldom seen or heard “proof reading department.” When she thought it was genuinely funny, I felt that it might be pretty good.  Sadly, she won’t be able to read any more of my columns...that time has passed.  When I think about her, I’ll think fondly of impromptu dinners, love of politics, sharing a gin and tonic, ice cream and Bailey’s and something her partner described to me when I saw him last: when the housekeeper arrived, her routine was not to get down to the business of housecleaning, but for her and the housekeeper to sit at the dining room table and talk for a very long time...just catching up.  “It usually involves toast” he said.  The housecleaning was always secondary.  The image, for me, was a reminder of the significance of simple pleasures with special people.  It was also a reminder that the true gems in life don’t always hold court at every party and often don’t even attend parties, preferring to socialize with only the intimate few whose friendship they value.  They don’t always serve haute cuisine to the movers and shakers, but deliver the most memorable of occasions at their cluttered dining room table, often involving only toast and strong coffee. 

Because I know the Post’s “proof reading department” would hate this particular column, I’ll attempt redemption by ending on a brighter note...

I’m appreciative of those friends and family who know that I’m always amenable to leftover pizza and cookies from a bag.  I’m happy to report that I have no idea how much money those most important to me have and that no one dear to me ever feels they must call in advance before stopping by my house.  I hold sacred the less-than-glamourous truths with which I’ve been entrusted and value most the company of those who don’t feel compelled to tidy-up before I come over for dinner.  In short, my life is filled to the brim with happiness due, in no small part, to the most basic and lovely of life’s occurrences.  Significant people are not always cloaked in glorious pomp.  They often prefer to enter unannounced and leave a path emblazoned  with humility, intelligence and kindness.  They know all too well that, with the right folks, few things in life are better than a good piece of toast.

Respectfully submitted and with love to Anne..