Last night, one of those animated greetings arrived on my screen with a note of encouragement about discrimination. I sent a note of thanks via IM. It was a total stanger who apologized for having read my journal. I reassured her that it was okay as the journal is public.
That was nice, really nice.
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Yesterday I offered my services at the first official meeting of the Democratic Women's Club ub this county. My step-mother is the president (as of yesterday.) My job was to mind the table that was laid out with her cousin's books and information from the Supervisor of Elections office.
An old friend, who is a former county commissioner, came over an told me to come take one of her canoes out anytime I want to. She is from a well-known Florida family out of Miami. I first met her when my parents moved back home here when I was 13.
My father took us, individually, to work with him throughout our childhoods. We visited courtrooms, jails, county commission offices, judges chambers, lawyer offices, police stations, city halls. He introduced us to everyone, even the sandwich vendor and the man who sold him Cuban shirts when he worked in Miami.
Maggy, the sister of a famous Miami attorney, took a shine to me when I was in high school and volunteered to work on her campaign. I was chosen to represent her in mock elections in the classroom. I was the only representative that lost the election. All the other Maggy's in their class period won. But I was a nerd running against a cheerleader who bought her votes with Snickers bars.
Ever since then, when we see each other, she says the nicest things to me.
I didn't start this item to write about her. Yesterday I was alos greeted by a woman that I have not seen in 27 years. She came over and introduced herself and reminded me that we boarded horses together.
When I was a senior in high school, my father bought me a horse. He wanted me to be happy but I was immature and had an idealized daydream as most young girls do. It would have been wiser to find a riding stable that allowed me to get over the daydream. But what did we know back then?
I got upset once when I found the food uncovered, and being scared, left a note I am ashamed of about the necessity of keeping the horses healthy. The ladies called my house and expressed how the note had upset them. It was one of the worst moments of my young life. I meant no harm, and I did not mean to upset people.
When this lady introduced herself, I felt instant shame. Maybe she has forgiven and forgotten, but I haven't. When I make people upset, my pain is very acute. It is a deep and riveting kind of dread that sinks to my bones and makes me want to explode to empty it from my marrow.
I said something to her, I told her where the hourse is now, and she said she just wanted to stell me who she was and she just sort of slipped back out of the room and into the crowd without really turning her back. Although I may have been looking down or away....
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I know that I certainly had bratty moments when I was a child, but for the most part I was quiet and good. As a middle-aged woman, I look at mothers who allow their kids to run and scream and throw fits in the library (and elsewhere) and I just shake my head.
My mother had a way of calming me. I think that if it was something I wanted she would explain to me why if her answer was "No." She was gentle but I do not remember what she did when we were upset and whiny. I don't remember crying, except once. I wanted a blackboard in the days of S&H Green Stamps. When we went to the store to redeem the stamps, the store was closed and I bawled my eyes out. It was a simple matter of going back when the store was open, but tell that to a 4-year-old.
I remember her telling the cashier about how much I cried.
But I digress...
I may have been bratty at times, but my parents didn't let it get out of hand. They spoke to me, they calmed me down, they let me know it would be okay.
These days, small children run around the library stacks, scream at the top of their lungs, let the whole place know that they are not getting something they want, whether its the library or Wal-Mart. Older kids put their parents down for not producing everything they desire, verbally abuse their parents, threaten them. I've seen it.
My step-mother is a victim of this, as is my girlfriend.
A child was behaving terribly in the library a few days ago and I spoke to Carol, the "Homework Helper," a former Montessori teacher and mother of two. She concurred that parents now offer quantity over quality and there is no substitute for the quality time they need to give.
But I see children learning VERY EARLY how to manipulate their parents and never stopping. I see tiny kids who smile wickedly, knowing they will get what they want. They turn into teenagers that are exceedingly rude and abusive to their parents. Why? Because they were given everything their hearts desired.
The sad thing is, these people are raising a country: People growing up to be selfish, thoughtless and immoral and even abusive cry-baby brats.
And when I reach old age, they will be in power. God help us.
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