The Value of History, or the History of Values

The US Army killed Osama Bin Laden.

If you haven't heard this news, you've clearly been living in a cave (pun very intended). I feel compelled to write about this historical moment because of the moral and ethical questions it has brought up for me in the past few days, particularly in light of the fact that I soon will be a parent, attempting to instill our child with a sense of "values." But what are those values we want to instill? And how does this historical moment challenge the value system we think we know and abide by?

Just so you know, here's where I'm coming from: while I don't subscribe to any particular religious system of belief, I certainly do subscribe to the idea of karma in a grand sense. What you give out to the universe you receive in return. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth (but not necessarily literally). Thus, do unto others as you would do unto yourself. In one respect, Osama got precisely what he karmically deserved. Which is perhaps why, when I heard the news, I didn't feel particularly bad.

Yet neither did I feel particularly good, either. Why not capture him and try him in court for his crimes? Could justice have been served in any other ways? Now it's a moot point, but I wondered...

And then I felt downright awful and disturbed when the "dancing in the streets" started and celebrations sprang up, both in the flesh and on Facebook. What makes our celebrations of his death any better than the extremists' celebrations of 9/11? Without question the damage to our world that Osama has generated is morally reprehensible and inexcusable, but aren't we sliding down one awfully slippery slope by rejoicing in his murder? Or are our value systems that flexible enough to accommodate such picking and choosing of "sin" and negative actions?

There are no easy answers to these questions. I posted on Facebook the ubiquitous Martin Luther King, Jr. quote that's floating around out there:

"I mourn the loss of thousands of precious lives, but I will not rejoice in the death of one, not even an enemy. Returning hate for hate multiplies hate, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars. Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that" Martin Luther King, Jr

While this is a bastardization of what he says in his sermon, "Loving Your Enemy," I like the sentiment nonetheless. After I posted on someone else's status update--who had also posted the same quote--to "Spread the Love," the wrath came upon me. Things like, "Love didn't save that nut" and "Love doesn't apply to terrorists." Once again, I beg the same question I posed earlier but in a different light: are our value systems that flexible enough to accommodate such picking and choosing of "love" and positive actions?

So at this historical moment of significant value, I ponder how history has shaped values throughout time. And I wonder how--as time continues, as I grow, as my children grow--historical progress will continue to shape, mold, and challenge my own values. Despite all this, I'm still not sure what to make of all this, nor has it brought me any closer to determining the values I do want to pass on.

But I'll end with this anecdote: A former professor's daughter posed the following question to her over breakfast yesterday morning: Was Osama Bin Laden as evil as Voldemort? That's a loaded question, and I'm breathing a small sigh of relief that I'm not a parent yet because the answer--like so many answers about this subject--are far too complex to answer with a simple yes or no.

Dreamin' of Jamaica

I feel really selfish. I'm going to put that out there. Because I'm aware of how selfish this is going to sound.

I'm dreamin' of Jamaica. Both the night kind and the day kind. Jamaica is where Jake and I went for our luxury honeymoon at an all-inclusive resort. We splurged. We were treated like royalty. We had no worries or cares in the world outside of what the weather was going to be like (sunny and warm) and treating our sunburns (so worth it). We ate a lot, drank a lot, slept a lot (even in a hammock), and spent time together, just the two of us.

I'm sure you can probably guess where this is going. I'm not just dreaming about being in Jamaica, but everything that our time there stood for. I'm starting to have anxiety over wanting to retain this idyllic life as I know it's slipping further and further away with each passing day towards the arrival of Baby Melbs. I know that having children will bring about rewards (and challenges) far surpassing anything I can possibly imagine right now, but there's this part of me that wonders, "What are we giving up in the process? Will these rewards be enough to compensate for those losses? Is part of parenthood this inevitable turning point in life where one must give up in order to gain, or is it possible to have one's cake and eat it, too?" We keep saying how we can still go back to Jamaica, but it won't be the same. Nothing's really going to be the same once Baby Melbs arrives. And maybe that's okay...but i'ts a scary prospect nonetheless. It's not that I don't do well with change, but...I kind of don't. Especially if it's big. Like this.

26 weeks...whoa. It's hard for me to imagine my belly getting bigger.

And this.

And this.

Another one of Jake's artistic shots. And yes--I am sticking my tongue out at him :-)

And so there you have it. But because I'm the perpetual optimist, I know we'll get through it. I know we'll adjust. I know that I'll deal with this change just like every other I've dealt with, taking what I can from the experience and learning along the way.

But Jamaica sure is nice. And with that, I'm going to go snuggle with my husband some more :-)

Do you know what you're having?

The big question everyone wants to know when they find out you're pregnant: Do you know what you're having? No, I don't. But hopefully I will in less than 12 hours.  The anatomy scan ultrasound is scheduled for a bright and early 7 am!

It's funny because people keep saying "oh, I'm sure you wouldn't mind either way." And while I think that this will ultimately prove true, I do have some anxiety over the issue, anxiety that is proving artistically fruitful as you can see in the monologue below. A few friends and I are participating in the SWAN Day (International Women Artists Day) festivities here in Pittsburgh and are putting together a monologue performance art piece that will be part of a larger performance show at the end of March. As it turns out, all three of our pieces are revolving around motherhood and--surprise, surprise--guilt. 

So read below. Some of it is exaggerated for dramatic purposes and poetic license, but the anxiety is oh so real. And don't judge me too harshly. I anticipate that I'll be feeling very different in a mere 12 hours. 

Do you know what you’re having?

Do you know what you’re having?  Is it a boy or a girl?  Do want to know what you’re having?  When do you find out what you’re having?  Are you feeling a “mother’s intuition” yet?  Boy or girl? Boy or girl Boy or girl?  

Answer: Yes, no, maybe.  Assign to whichever question you feel fit. 

I’d like to say that none of this matters.  Of course I want a healthy, happy, sweet little bundle when this is all said and none.  But does it matter?  Yes. A lot.  Because…well…oh hell, just shame me now.  Just do it.  Call me names—hypocrite, back stabber, an awful mom already. Make that horrified look that I know you’re all gonna make.  That gaped-mouth, wide-eyed, nose-crinkled in distaste look that all grandmother’s seem to have perfected and that we will all perfect someday.  Just shame me now.  

Great? Are you done?  Because here’s my real answer to your question: I am TERRIFIED of having…a…b..b…b…baby…baby…baby…girl! 

But why does it scare you? All you gotta do is put em dresses and tie pink ribbons in their hair! Doesn’t a boy scare you even more? What’s so wrong with having a girl? I have a girl and I love it! Are you crazy who wouldn’t want a girl??? 

Answer: Because I know what it’s like. I know what it’s like to think that pink, frills, pearls, and ruffles are the only way to express my femininity. To obsess over my body. To obsess over my body becoming my mother’s body (check—that’s happened).  To spend countless nights on my knees going “Dear God, It’s me, Alyssa. When will I get my period?” To spend weeks upon weeks of my life cursing God for giving me my period as I curl up into a ball on the floor in pain. To dream of being a princess only to realize that Prince William is never going to come to America, we are never going to find each other at University, and that…damn…he’s now officially taken. To weep over loves come and gone and then go right back out there and do the same thing over and over and over and over. 

Who the hell would want to go through that? And do I really want to go through that all again in this mini-me whom I’ve created? But, I mean, I guess we’re still alive, right? If we can do it, so can the she who is maybe in my belly?  Maybe?

Common Sense Kindness

Whew.  I've been meaning to get on here for the last week.  It was even on my to do list last weekend.  Clearly that didn't happen!  Life has been a little crazy as of late, primarily because of work.  I was at all four of my schools within the last week, coordinated a professional development workshop, am conducting two professional development workshops this week, and am traveling up to Pitt-Bradford to work with student teachers for three days in between.  Whew.

Which is why my encounter at the grocery store yesterday really made me stop and think.  Jake and I had been invited to a neighbor's for an early Thanksgiving dinner, and I was running to pick up last minute supplies at the Giant Eagle Market District in Shadyside.  Now, if you've ever been there, you know that it's madness whenever you go there, be it 7 am, 2 pm, or 10 pm.  So many people!  I go in and by the end I literally had 4 things in my hand: a can of butter beans, a can of baked beans, bacon (all of these for Calico beans, or 3-bean hotdish--delicious!), and some pumpkin eggnog.  The last item was a splurge, but it's become something of a tradition for Jake and I to get around this time of year. I walk up to the self-checkout lanes.  The express lanes are of course long and filled with people who have 12 or MORE items.  Read the signs people!  But right next to it was a gentleman who had about 6 items in his cart, and an older lady who didn't have that much.  I took my chances and figured that they'd be done before the express lane. 

Then, much to my surprise, the older lady turns around, sees what I have in my arms, and says, "You don't have that many things.  Would you like to go in front of me?"  I stood there astonished for a moment, mouth gaping open.  I at first was going to politely decline until I remembered that I did in fact have to go home and immediately start making things for the dinner.  I replied, "That is so nice of you!  Yes, if you wouldn't mind."  Then, to my even greater surprise, she turns to the guy behind me, who also had 4 items, and said, "You don't have many things either.  Go on ahead in front of me."  Who does that nowadays???

And it just got me thinking about common sense kindness.  She could've been wrapped up in her own little world, not noticing anyone around her.  She could've not even cared in the slightest how she might hold other people up.  But she didn't.  She used common sense, a little mathematical reasoning, and deduced that the few extra minutes she would spend there were worth having people not have to wait for her (and her half-full cart). I've seen people with carts brimming and overflowing with goods not bat an eye when you have a minuscule basket behind them.  But I was able to walk out of Giant Eagle with a huge grin on my face when normally I leave scowling and cursing the masses of people. 

So, I'm going to try to take this approach more often when I'm dealing with strangers and friends alike.  When it makes common sense, show a little kindness.  It's really not that hard.  And you might just make someone's day. 

When life hands you unbaked cake, make a truffle!

First, HAPPY HALLOWEEN everyone!  To treat Jake and I, I decided to make a most delicious looking cake that I saw in the October issue of Better Homes and Garden, a "Walnut Cake with Caramel Whipped Cream."

Right?  Doesn't it just make your mouth water?!!?

But I should have followed one of my most basic life principles: if you go into something with low expectations, you'll always be pleasantly surprised!  Now, on first glance, this defeatist tenet seems absolutely at odds with my generally positive optimism.  However, I look at it the other way around: I always want my outcomes to be better than I would have thought.  Hence, no or low expectations = happiness!

Yet I did not follow this rule this time.  From the recipe, it was going to be one of the most involved cake making efforts of my life.  And I was psyched.  I wanted my cake to look just like the picture.

The Greatest Generation

Yesterday Jake and I visited his grandparents, Rollie and Lorraine.  We're back home in MN visiting family and gearing up for my cousin's wedding this weekend.  We knew that we'd make it up to Madison at some point to see them, and the visit gave me a lot to ponder about marriage and what I value in my life. 

I first met his grandparents in the summer of 2006 after we started dating.  I remember the first time walking into their house, getting blasted back to past from the smell of it.  Strangely enough, their basement smelled exactly like my own Grandma Lorraine's house, who passed away in 2003.  Even then, I knew it was a good sign that Jake and I were meant to be!  At this point, Rollie was already diagnosed with Parkinson's Disease, but he was still living at home being cared for by Lorraine. Jake used to tell me all sorts of stories about things he would do with his Grandpa, the bottling company Rollie ran for many years and that Jake worked for as a teenager, and all the work around his grandparents' house that he would help with.  Jake used to say "I wish you could have met my Grandpa before he got sick," but even now I can still see the twinkling in his eye of the perpetual joker that everyone tells me he used to be, and that's all I need to see to love him dearly!  Eventually the disease's progression became too overwhelming, and Rollie was moved into the nursing home a block away from their home. Lorraine hasn't slowed down one bit, though, since I met her.  She visits Rollie numerous times each day, still does his laundry, and even just washed her car by hand this past week!  She's going to be 89 this year, but with the way she still moves around and how sharp her mind still is you'd never know it! 

Lorraine met Jake and I at the nursing home yesterday afternoon around 4 o'clock.  Rollie was listening to some oldies on his Ipod, and besides being a little tired, seemed to be in good spirits.  We sat down with them both, chatted about what was new, and showed them pictures of our garden and from our honeymoon in Jamaica.  Jake and his Grandpa shared a beer together, and we took some pictures.  They were just amazed at the technology of the digital camera, being able to see the picture right away!

Jake and Rollie sharing a Hub City Brown Ale.

Two hours flew by, and by then Rollie was ready to head off to supper.  Lorraine said, "Goodbye honey," and leaned in and gave her husband of 60+ years a big smooch on the lips.  It took everything in my power not to start crying from the bittersweet moment, and even thinking back on it now brings tears to my eyes.  How hard it must be for her to say goodbye to him every day, for both of them to be alone at night, when for so long they had always been together.  But also how wonderfully sweet it is to see such love, dedication, and devotion after so many years, especially when no one seems to take marriage vows all that seriously anymore.  I'm sure that they have had their bad times just like anyone in any marriage, but to witness the love that years have built up was something quite special.  Both Jake and I remarked upon later that it's at this point in someone's life--when adults become children again and need to be taken care of--that it suddenly becomes so clear why having a partner, children, and family are so important.  I don't think anyone ever wants to be alone, but when you start to think forward to your later years, the need to keep your family close and strong becomes so much more apparent. 

Tom Brokaw rightly called their generation "The Greatest Generation" for their sense of duty, love, and practicality.  I lament that my own generation doesn't have more of those three things, three things still so evident in his grandparents today.  We talked with his grandparents about all the hard work they had to do, raising their families, working without technology, through the Great Depression and numerous wars.  But it was that kiss between two people who had made it through tough times and good that spoke volumes.  I hope that someday Jake and I can live up to their standards of duty, love, and practicality.  Because if it ends with a kiss like that, it'll all have been worth it. 

Worries

Reflection is key for the growth of knowledge.  I firmly believe this, yet for one reason or another, often times find myself avoiding it at all costs.  Probably because reflection hurts sometimes, be it the very literal reflection in the mirror after a long night of various and sundry activities or the figurative examination of the soul under a harsh white light.

So here I am after a long Monday. A very long Monday filled with fires to put out left and right, challenges to overcome every five minutes, and spills to clean up.  And that's just with my classroom of 5-8 year olds!  I'm feeling filled with worries right now, about my past actions and how they will affect people, about my current situation, and for things far off into the future. 

1. I worry that I am too selfish.  I know that sometimes I don't give my husband enough of my attention, I don't call my friends often enough, and I don't think outside of my immediate circle of life very often.  Part of the reason I joined AmeriCorps was to get outside of myself a bit, but I still don't feel that I've done enough.  I berate my husband sometimes for not congratulating me on a wonderful dinner or for not understanding how hard I work at my 2 jobs  (or 3, or 4, or 5 jobs, depending upon the time of year).  But I do the same thing to him all the time.  I am a hypocrite in this matter and I don't like it.  There have been so many times recently when I've caught myself ready to say "you have a good day too" when someone has said the same to me only to stop short.  Why don't I say it?  Because deep down I feel that I'm owed a "good day" and this person is not?  Because I don't say it right away and then think the person will think it stupid if I say it later? Certainly this is an awful position to hold either way you look at it.  I just need to say it.  Better late than never. 

2. I worry that I don't have enough gratitude.  Caveat: I'm not a religious person.  I explain this because I feel that--perhaps rightly so--religion demands of its followers gratitude for the things that God provides.  So I don't have this ready made structure in my life that elicits gratitude from me.  Even so, I am thankful for all I have--my family, friends, home, job, nature--but I know I don't show it enough.  I hardly ever send thank you cards for ordinary gifts, except under certain circumstances which dictate they be sent (weddings, showers, etc.)  I hardly ever take a moment in my day to think about all I have, to wonder at how I've gotten to the point in my life, and to ponder on the mysteries of nature's cycle, an idea I keep coming back to for its simple beauty.  And then there's the difference between real gratitude and "fake" gratitude.  Like when I tell my students "thank you" for behaving the right way.  Yes, it's helpful when they do start behaving, but all the while I'm thinking "well you should have been behaving in the first place, punk!"  So my heart's not in it as much as it can or should be. 

3. I worry that I'm not going to be a good parent someday, if my present performance in the classroom today is any indication. I had one student who defied every word I said, every action I took.  All he was looking for, I realize, was attention.  And what did I do?  I gave it to him every step of the way.  I gave him exactly what he wanted and what he didn't need.  I couldn't ignore his behavior and instead tried to control it, or rather get him to control it.  And this whole exchange between him and I backfired.  And it sucks knowing that I failed him today.  Frankly, my inability to ignore him showed a lack of self-control on my part, something I'm not very happy admitting. 

I feel ugly inside right now.  Like I have turned into this giant monster with four heads and creeping snake hair, part-ogre and part-Medusa.  Surely, this is how my students must see me on a regular basis. 

Now comes the hard part--changing my own behavior to act upon my worries.  Perhaps I can start with one very small but worthwhile step:

"Thank you for reading this.  It means a lot to me to know that you are listening."