Glass Half Empty...Glass Half Full II

"Have you heard about Bill? He just got laid off!"
"Yeah, another victim of this awful economy. It's terrible, isn't it?"
"Yeah, and they say it's just going to get worse."
Sometime in the last few months or so we've either been part of a conversation like that or overheard a similar one. Like some sadistic fascination for a twisted horror movie, I can't seem to pull myself away from the daily hammering of stock market lows, job cut stats and my favorite station's "Earmark of the Day" segment. My husband refuses to even sit down for the evening news let alone do what I do and have it with my oatmeal and coffee.
People are rioting in the streets. There's "Tea Parties" being reported in some states. People are suffering ulcers and heart attacks. The world is in chaos. Being a Christian, I can easily point out that these are the last days before the return of Jesus, and people should expect what they see. After all, for those who enjoy a good read, the Bible will tell you all about it, down to the last detail.

But I'm also a realist. I'm not complicated, and I like to stay that way. So the practical side of me remembers what my gramma would do when things looked bleak. (No, singing wasn't it.)
She'd tell me to look for the silver lining. Nowadays, you have to really focus to see it, but it's always there. It never really goes away. And the more you look, the bigger and wider that silver lining appears to be.
All kinds of things are happening out there---positive things---that wouldn't have happened if negative things hadn't happened first.
Somewhere there's a man who's lost his job, but his wife with her nursing background picks up a position at a local hospital. Suddenly Dad's around the house more. He begins to see and appreciate everything his wife's been doing to make their house a home. He spends time with his kids and as a result he isn't the stranger that many dads become over time. Now he has time to do those small repairs she's been asking about for months. Maybe he takes a class or two, something he's wanted to do for years.
A couple hundred miles away, another man looses his job. No longer able to pay the rent, he and his wife are forced to move in with the man's brother. It's tight, but temporary. Two women share the workload, but they also share the daily company. And when times are tough, they share support, kind words and encouragment. They aren't alone in this.
Families all over the place are combining to share rent and bills and ease the burden of making ends meet. Is that a bad thing? Not necessarily. Families that love each other can cheerfully share a common environment.
But what about the not-so-loving families that are forced to live together to survive? In that case, extra effort is needed to get along and co-exist peacefully. Is that a bad thing? Not necessarily. It forces people to grow up, curb inclinations, suppress negative reactions and gain control...something they may have never had to do. An exercise in "get-a-grip and grow up."
And then there's the kids. Suddenly there's no money for the extras. The birthdays and maybe even Christmas. There's no more designer jeans and the latest makeup, jewelry or skateboard. Maybe there's not even enough room in the budget for that weekly trip to the pizza shop or the movies. Is that a bad thing? Not really.
For all the kids out there that are already overindulged, it's actually a good thing. Our kids need to learn new concepts like eating at home instead of at Burger King with a passle of friends. They need to find out what it's like to invite friends over for a rented movie instead of going to the matinee at the local theatre. They need to inhale the air of a thrift shop as they search the racks for clothes that will fit. And they need to learn to shop for bargains and use patience and wait for sales.
But more, the ones old enough to understand money and all it's ramifications need to sit down at a table with mom and dad and have the word "budget" explained to them. They need to know how much the rent, the ultilities and the bills are. Yours may be an exception, but most young teens have never had to consider a budget. They have no clue how much Dad and Mom spend to keep their world spinning.
But now that we're out of work and out of money, it's the most beautiful and appropriate time to sit our kids down and explain the facts of financial life to them. It's a great time to take them to the grocery store and make them aware of the cost of food and make them figure out where the better deals are. For those kids who have never held a job, perhaps now is the time to introduce them to the world of work. Even if it's babysitting after school. Then make them contribute to the budget.
Can you see that silver lining?
In these dreadful times, great things are happening. People are drawing together for comfort and support. Families are hunkering down and gathering in tight. They're holding hands more than they ever did. Kneeling to pray more often, and feeling more acutely grateful for living in America, even with all it's flaws. They are reinventing themselves, learning new skills and trades and sometimes finding new meaning in life because they've been forced to slow down. People who've taken their jobs for granted are feeling a new sense of thankfulness that they can still get up, get in their cars, and head for that job. In hundreds of small towns and big cities, people are finding new joy in simpler pastimes that cost little to nothing, and people are learning to make their own bread, wash their own car, sew their own clothes. They're looking for ways to save money instead of spend it and becoming more self-sufficient in the process. Are these things bad?
Not necessarily. They're all part of the silver lining.

Glass Half Empty....Glass Half Full?

I just finished The Glass Castle by Jeannette Wall. The book is a true account of her memories as she grew up. One of four siblings, she was raised by Rex Wall, her alcoholic father who was also a scientific genius, and a mother who was a displaced hippie that didn't believe in rules or boundaries---for herself or her children. Jeannette's memories begin in a rundown trailer in the desert. Her family's situation gradually worsens as her father becomes more of an alcoholic and her mother retreats deeper into an unrealistic life of painting and reading. The entire family "skedaddles" from place to place in midnight escapes from bill collectors and the law, ultimately winding up in a place and in a situation that the reader assumes can't get any worse. But as the kids grow up and realize that their life isn't the norm, they plot to escape it.

Jeannette's writing on the surface simply reveals the story of a sad, poor family that mirrors the life of many families in the early '60's. The story contains situations of blatant, disturbing sadness brought on by self-centered parents with defeating vices. Never-the-less, the brilliance of her novel is not so much in the story as in the telling of it. Setting aside the obviously hideous childhood these children endured, whether or not she realized it, Jeannette gives every reader a new, perhaps helpful slant on life.

In The Glass Castle, these abominable parents are experts at something that we should all practice, especially if we have kids. I'd loosely refer to it as "The-Glass-Half-Full" theory.

Much of the time the Walls lived in tiny, run-down, out-of-the-way places in the desert that could barely be considered towns. They occupied abandoned buildings and sheds, places where the rent was either very nominal or, preferably, non-existent. They were poor to the extreme so the kids usually had no shoes. Can you imagine children running wild in our southwestern deserts without shoes? Between cactus, scorpions, and broken glass, the average parent would be out of their mind to allow such a thing.

But the Walls children did just that because of the philosophy of their parents. "Shoes are for the weak. Go bare-footed and you build up calluses so thick it's like wearing shoes."

Now, the average person would be able to dicern that this philosophy came from simply not having enough money to buy shoes. True, but the kids swallowed it and that was the key.

When birthdays came around, there was never enough money for gifts. The reader knows where the birthday money went. It bought booze for Dad and paint and canvas for Mom. But Dad takes the kids outside, and they all lay on blankets under the Arizona night sky. Millions of stars twinkle above. Dad points to a particularly bright, glittering one and "gives" the star to his favorite daughter. "Pity those other children," he tells her. "All they get are cheap plastic toys that are going to fall apart in a little while. You have a star!"

Again, the reader sneers, grudgingly congratulationg Dad for his imagination, but pitying the child in the end. But was the child really to be pitied? Daddy's little girl was thrilled, and carried that star around in her heart as his gift to her.

As a result of their financial situation, they had no TV, board games, or radios. Their only forms of entertainment were free, and included copious reading. Jeannette was reading like a 5 year old when she was 3. Even with sporatic education, the kids turned into academic prodigies.

All because this disfunctional, destructive family was less than dirt poor.

I feel it's nesseary to point out, again, that the story contains situations that are almost unbearably sad for these four children, things they should not have had to endure under any circumstances, but my core point is: these parents twisted life into a "glass-half-full" viewpoint.

Each time these kids seemed to be deprived of something we would consider a basic life necessity, the parents would unflinchingly respond to the lack of it with a piece of wisdom that successfully led the children to "realize" that they not only didn't need it, they were better off without it. Maybe it's time we practiced a little of that with our own kids.

Now before someone thinks I'm going to try to convince my kids they don't need shoes, or games, or some food, let me say I wouldn't be able to do that if I tried. But all too often our kids successfully convince us they "need" something "vital" to their well-being. That they couldn't possibly go another day without it, or will "just die" if they don't have it.

Last week, on a Sunday evening, our youngest son rambles to the kitchen table, drops onto a chair, and casually points out to his dad and I that he needs a new set of shoes, some socks, and several new T-shirts. The existing ones have holes and are faded. He lists some good brands to buy and the colors he wants. (A new girl just appeared on the horizon, but his father and I wisely didn't bring that factor into the conversation.)

Now, to exercise the "glass-half-full" theory. I respond: "If the piles and piles of laundry in your room were to be washed, you'd find (as you have in the past) t-shirts without holes. T-shirts that are almost as vivid as when first purchased because the ones on the bottom of that pile of dirty clothes are, in fact, probably very new. You'd find socks galore. Maybe even another set of shoes you've forgotten about."

But if all that failed, I could recall how Rex Wall of The Glass Castle would have handled it. I could have said, "You know, you're going to be very thankful for those holes in your t-shirt come summer. Pity your friends with their perfect t-shirts. You're going to have built-in air conditioning whenever you wear them. I bet those t-shirts become your favorite ones!"

Last week, we ran a little low on "breakfast food." We were out of bread, butter, cereal and milk. There were no eggs, or sausage or bacon in the fridge, and little fruit. I had major shopping to do. Again, the youngest wakes up, shuffles to the kitchen, and begins to swing on the kitchen door. Within moments he's whining that there's nothing to eat. Again, perfect time for "glass-half-full" theory.

I point out, "Cold pizza is great for breakfast!" When that receives an "are-you-crazy?" look, I get more practical. "A can of Spaghettios is filling and warm!" Again, the baleful eye-rolling and heavy sigh. I should feel like the neglectful parent, yes?

Something inside me hears the voice of Rex Wall, and I respond.

"You know, you're better off going without a breakfast. You've been trying to drop a few pounds for track, and you'd be more alert---you know---less drowsy without all that fat and protein sloshing around in your stomach. "

We have become a nation of indulgence. And our kids have become the hapless victims. They actually believe they can't live without $50 pants, $100 shoes and designer shirts. They must have the latest video game before it's sold out and *gasp* they don't get one until the next shipment comes in.

They won't eat onion, bell pepper, vegetables, or store-brand cereal. They need a ride to school because it's cold outside. They have to go with friends to the movies. Friends, popcorn, soda, and Netflix in their front room is just not going to cut it.

I could go on and on. The point is, what on earth would happen if, say, the economy took a downturn...one or the other or both their parents lost their job....maybe Dad received a cut in pay...Mom got laid off? Well, all across America it's happening. We need to begin using the "glass-half-full" theory with our kids.

No, we can't buy the $50 pants off the rack. But you have pants. No, I didn't get your shoes at Foot Locker. I got them at Payless. I didn't pay $100 either, but you have shoes. No, we can't buy the video game this month. But you have books. You get them FREE at the library. And there's the great outdoors. Run, jump, bicycle. It's all free.

And when we finish with our kids, we can start on ourselves.

The Dreadmill...

I did it! I did it! 2 hours on the dreadmill. Okay, so it was at the slowest speed and included 15 minute rest intervals of 10 minutes each while the Aleve caught up to my knees. But I did it!

Here's the key...A DVD player. Hooked it up to the dread, slapped on a headset, and off I went. Nothing like a good movie to keep you going.

Current movie suggestion: Goodnight Mr. Tom, a Masterpeice Theatre movie. Setting: WWII, England goes to war with Germany. A young, evacuated boy goes to live with a reclusive old man on the outskirts of London. The old man, broken hearted from what's happened in his own past, is transformed by the little boy, who hides a painful secret. Very engaging, very good flick!

And for those of you who don't have Netflix, do yourself a favor and get it. The site is very user friendly, which is a nessesary for me. I mean, for virtually pennies you can see the movie you want, when you want to see it, and there's no overdue fee when you don't return it the next day. Or the next month, for that matter. This blog isn't for advertising, but I'll make an exception in this case. Check it out...http://www.netflix.com/

Okay...stepping off the soap box...so today is my second day with the dreadmill. Will I make it? I think so, as long as I have a good movie. I plan to watch Eragon. Today, my list does not include going back to bed.

The Best Laid Plans...

Are lists! I'm convinced of this, because every time I want to get a lot done, I make a list.
Yesterday, I made a resolution that I would get on the treadmill (affectionately referred to by a friend of mine as a dreadmill) each day, no fail. I began this resolution early in the morning over breakfast with my significant other, Daniel, and my "to-do" list for Monday.
Now, lists work great, but there's some things you have to do along with the lists if you want them to work.
First, you have to tell someone else you're making a list. This has a two-fold purpose. One, they can hold you accountable for the entries on your list, and two, they can help you remember you have a list and where it is.
Now, here's the trick. When you make the list, you show it to someone else. Spouses will do for this, as they'll see you later on that day and they can ask you what you've accomplished. They'll ask politely if you were able to get to everything you had planned, and if you didn't, you can confess it with no chastening. After all, they've been there themselves. They've felt the sting of failure. But this method is for wussies.
If you really want your list method to work, tell your kids. They fail at nothing. Moreover, your children have an agenda. They'd love to see you fail so they can let you know about it.
"Moooommm....did you (fill in the blank here) today?" Said with that pouty lower lip and that eye-rolling 'were-you-good-today? voice.
Now, at this point, if you've failed you could lie and save face. But if you're really courageous and you really want success, you bravely respond, "No." And then you find out why telling your kids about the list works so well. You are so gonna hear about your coffession of failure. If you're a parent, I don't even have to give you a scenario for this. In no time, you're going to be the most successful and efficient person in your family. All because you told your kids about your list.
I made my list yesterday, and I'm looking at it this morning. My 15 year old son hasn't started off for school yet today. I want to go back to bed. Should I tell him about my list? Then a brilliant (2 cups of coffee) idea pops into my head.
Whipping out an eraser (always make your list in pencil for obvious reasons), I replace "Start the dishwasher" with "Go back to bed."
"Honey, come look at Mom's list for today, will you?"
He's off to school. I'm off to bed.