This has been a week of images and events that have caused me to reevaluate how much The Ones Big and Short -- my boys -- need to know about bad people, sad people, hungry people, sick people, divorced people, married people, Glocks, The Red Zone, and Larry Birkhead ... (luv Wikipedia).
How much DO they know? How much SHOULD they know? WHO is telling them? Should I be telling them ... more info or less? Are they scared/scarred by what they hear/see? And are they going to be so tormented by news of these events that they retreat into themselves and become brooding, dark teens because of a lapse in adult judgment OR because I realized too late into a "Curious George" VHS rewind that Big and Short had spent a good seven minutes watching Oprah's "Are You Wearing the Right Bra," episode?
Let's first examine the "Sad Events of April," and I'll tell you who knows what:
1. Oklahoma City Bombing -- 4/21/95 -- I had just gone to work for the Abilene Reporter-News. No children in my house. Satellite trucks around Abilene are dispatched to the scene. I don't recall viewing this event in news recaps thru the years w/ either child. No pop-ups of Timothy McVeigh in orange flak vest have appeared on our PC screen while The Big One is playing Club Penguin. I can't bear the heartache of children hurt. I can't explain that to my children.
2. Columbine High -- The Big One is nine months old. We're "dancing" to induce nap time in the den when the pictures stream from CNN. It's morning. I've never discussed Dylan and Eric w/ my boys. This is not news coverage that they have witnessed. I've written about it in their baby books. It saddened me immensely. Baby boys. Dark and brooding.
3. VA Tech -- This one has landed right in our laps. My boys KNOW Virginia. They know Virginia because their beloved cousins lived there. They've been there ... RIGHT in that neighborhood. The Big One knew about the events of 4/16 when I asked him because his buddies were talking about it at school. When he went to the elementary school library to view the online card catalog last week, a move of the mouse changed a screen from black to ... dark and brooding ... the Glock-toting shooter. A previous viewer ... hopefully an adult ... searched for that image and left that ugly, sad face for The Big One and friends to see. In second grade. Some thought it sad, and some, sadly, thought it cool. The journalist in me has made sure The Big One knows the facts -- in gentler terms. He knows the killer has a family. A sad family. He knows 32 more families are grieving along w/ a nation who mourns their loss.
Leaving the month of April ...
1. The Big One watched as the Space Shuttle Columbia fell apart over our state because it happened as we were having our customary weekend pancakes. I don't think the memory/horror lasted, or that he ever really understood -- but when he's older he's bound to remember where he was when he sees it in a textbook. I would. He will remember from us that those heroes were brilliant. Brilliant. They did their homework.
2. 9/11 -- The Big One knows. He was unaware when the day's events unfolded, but he played w/ toddler toys nearby as I watched the solemn one-year anniversary and listened as the roll of names was read -- He has since seen pictures -- moving and still -- of the planes flying into buildings. He knows the killers were mad. He knows our nation was sad. He has never questioned our safety on a plane. He has never questioned our safety in tall buildings. He knows we say our prayers. I want him to hold that history in his heart but not his mind. So far, so good.
3. The deaths and funerals of the Pope and former presidents. We've watched the funerals on TV and our children have shown increasing interest as they've grown more aware of death and its rituals and celebrations. It was during President Reagan's days-long funeral that The Big One realized a casket was more than "a table w/ flowers on it."
So, this brings me to a thought-provoking discussion we had w/ good friends last nite over apple pie and coffee ... and drinks. How MUCH do we expose our children to the ugliness of life? How MUCH will they worry? How MUCH do we shield them?
1. I'd sooner watch the evening news and have either boy, Big or Short, walk thru the living room as I'm doing so, than have them see a preview of "Desperate Housewives" or watch even a second of "Entertainment Tonite." I WANT them to know our soldiers are brave. I want them to know that soldiers die in a war. I'll see to it they are shielded from graphic depictions of war ... but I want them to know. I want them to ask me about it. I want them to know how to spell Baghdad. It angers me to hear parents say, "I've just stopped watching the news. It's all bad. Nothing good ever happens." That's cowardly. And lazy.
2. I want them to understand that the disheveled man or woman on the street corner is HOMELESS and I want them to understand what that means. I don't want them to pass judgment on how that person got there or whether or not they're worthy of a dollar or a sandwich. I want them to look out the car window, sense that the homeless man or woman might be cold and hand them a pair of gloves ... or a sandwich. I want them to feel equal compassion for a person on the street or in a shelter, an elderly relative, a handicapped person in the grocery store, their friends at school. I want them to be smart and kind and compassionate. Compassionate giving ... selfless giving ... non-judgmental giving ... I pray for that for my children as I pray for their health, their happiness, their safety.
I want them to understand they don't have to change the world. That is a weight that should never be born by their tiny shoulders. I want them to look beyond their own footsteps, beyond their textbooks and ipods and cell phones. I want them to tell me if they're scared. I want them to tell a counselor/priest/Grandmommy if they're scared to tell me. I want them to shake a hand, whether it is dirty or clean. I want them to feed themselves and then feed others.
Above all, I want them to protect themselves, give to others, say their prayers, feed their dog ... and love their mother.
