Shh… I’m thinking. Shh… I’m reliving moments from yesteryear. Shh… I’m striving to discover a deep dark secret from my childhood. My internal tape recorder reveals no mystery, no secrets, no pain. Sort of disappointing, isn’t it? Surely I am in denial! I have no place on Jerry Springer Show, not even on Dr. Phil or Oprah. Those folks would never believe me. I think surely I could wish my mom had not had that near fatal sickness when I was in the eleventh grade. But, no, I would not have witnessed the awesomeness of God’s deliverance to her – a miracle I can never forget. How about how much I wished my brother would not comb his hair straight back? I sure gripped enough about that. But that would be terribly picayune. How about wishing my baby sister would not have had colic? Oh, that will do. So, I wish my baby sister had not had colic. If she had not had colic, I would have had a perfect childhood!
Well, let’s move on to my kids. What would I change? There are a few changes there. I spanked them a couple of times when they probably didn’t need it, but weighed up against the times they needed it and didn’t get it, there’s not really any cause for concern.
But, true to form for older folks, I do have concern for the present crop of little ones. I grieve at how much they have lost because adults teach two forms of behavior – one set of rules for kids and another for adults. Want examples: We tell kids to do what we say instead of what we do. We say, “Just say no,” while we say yes. We get the best sitters we can while we work 11 hours a day so we can buy $100 shoes teaching that the right logo is success. We check ID’s before selling cigarettes and alcohol as if cigarettes and alcohol is not bad for all ages. We allow abortion, euthanasia and right to die, and say that all lives are equal. We take couch potato position and tell kids to do their homework. We put the X-rated movie on as the child is put to bed. We cover pornography with opaque paper and keep it under the counter.
If we want our eighteen-year-old graduates to be beautifully gift-wrapped presents to the world, we’d better quit hiding our sins in brown paper bags and stowing them on the top shelf too high for the kids to reach. I remember climbing up to see what was on the top shelf. I never found anything there that I shouldn’t see (except of course, in December, I’d get a sneak peak at what was coming up for Christmas).
(Prompt given by Michele W. on Daily Post. Change in my childhood or that of my kids.)