About 300 8th graders stood in line to receive their promotion handshakes, certificates, and photographs. Suits and ties, new shoes, new dresses. A Big and Special Day. I was reminded of the James Taylor song, "Line 'em Up". All those amazing lives, all clumped together in one place. If we had time to listen, what stories they could tell us.
I am never ready for these sorts of things. They thonk me over the head like I never saw them coming in the first place.
Its the end of the school year, and it always seem to hit me before I can prepare. Its a time of change; the end of spring, the beginning of summer. Bittersweet endings, yet new beginnings. This year my feelings and emotions are different than other years. I have blogged about kids growing up, and the changes at the end of the school year here, some time back. But today, it feels different.
We have one high schooler ending her junior year; senior year coming up. Big Decisions ahead. This will be an interesting year for her, and for all of us. In less than 18 months, we will hopefully have a child off to college, and all the emotions and excitement that go with that. Our family population will be reduced by 25%, not to mention the noise level, that should be in the range of a 50% reduction!
And now, our younger girl is finishing her time at Middle School, and oh, what a ride. Academics that were challenging, great teachers, great friends, the school play for three years in a row, volleyball, softball, and soccer. What a life!
Today, I dropped 14-year old Heather off in front of the Middle School for the very last time. I watched her walk up the steps, never to return this particular way again. It was then that I remembered those last days of both of our girls, first at Marengo Elementary, and then here, at the Middle School. Fleeting moments in time. I pulled away from the curb, smiling to myself; thankful for the years past, and looking hopefully to those ahead. The past is beginning to softly fade, as are our memories of the Junior High years.
What an amazing ride this is, this life. Today, my heart is very full.
"The distinction between the past, present and future is only a stubbornly persistent illusion."
I have thought often of this idea, this "illusion", over the past two years, as I have faced the death of both of my parents, and a bit more again in the past couple of weeks, as I muse upon turning 50.
Today, I went on the roof of our house with a garden hose, some dish soap and a brush. No, I am not loosing it completely, I have solar panels that require periodic cleaning. My sweet wife does not warm to the concept of me, The Provider, on the roof playing with water and dish soap. She logically fears an accident by somewhat awkward me, resulting in much trauma for our family. I am sobered by this, as a neighbor on our street, who was roughly my age, fell off a ladder to his death while cleaning his gutters several years ago, leaving behind a wife and daughter of elementary age. I am not kidding.
This life we lead, as Einstein knew, exists on one side of a thin veil from death, another dimension.
As I was scrubbing panels on the roof, doing my part to reduce my Big Foot-sized carbon footprint, I started to chuckle thinking how silly this solar-panel-scrubbing effort will very likely someday seem. Surely, within the next 20 years some new technology will either scrub my panels for me, or the whole idea of solar power will be transformed in some way I cannot even now imagine. Such is the future.
While alone up on the roof in the sun, I thought of all those pictures from my parents photo albums from when I (like my girls now) was a teenager. How old-fashioned and tacky they all look. Time marches on, unimpeded by our memories of better or more simple times.
And then, I came downstairs to watch the final round of the US Open. I could write another post about that, but suffice it to say, Tiger and Rocco are amazing. During the midst of the tournament, another commercial came on from Lincoln Financial. To me, Lincoln has the most amazing advertising agency ever. Almost every add they do grabs me right in the heart.
Einstein would like this ad's idea. What if the laws of time were, for a brief moment, abolished, and we could chat with our future selves? It might be amazing.
And so, I give you this commercial, from the people at Lincoln Financial. Think less about the financial aspect, and more about the timelessness of this. It is wonderful. The question that punched me in the gut, from the new father (note: its a baby girl, just like our two) to his future self, was, "How'd I do?". Oh my!
Now, y'all listen up. I don't know much, but I do know me some good banjo pickin' when I hears it. I want to go to a show where everybody gets a seat suspended on a giant elastic band. Oh my!
When I was a kid, the three of us, me, Mom, and Dad used to sit at the little dinner table in our kitchen each night for dinner. Tater tots, pork chops, and reconstituted frozen lima beans. Dad would hold forth on events of business, politics, and culture, in his own modified suburban white Archie Bunker sort of way.My Dad loved Richard Nixon. He considered himself one of the Silent Majority. He thought Vietnam was a worthwhile endeavor to thwart the commie threat. He never understood the civil rights movement.
And so now, 35 years later, I feel I have been, in some ways, transported back in time, and the roles are reversed. I am playing the uptight, ultra-conservative parent, confused at the responses of my kids to culture.But after watching The Merchants of Cool earlier this week, I am wiser about the poop that is being foisted on our youth, all in the name of hipness, but really with the intent of making money. Lots of it. And MTV is a big part of the force.
Those of you who are parents, or are even thinking about becoming parents will want to watch this. Want to know what is going on? First, go take a look at one of the most recognized market research firms in youth culture, LookLook. These are the people that study youth culture, and then tell the giant marketing machines what is the latest, the coolest, and the most.Another good source of cultural overview can be found in the books of the Merchants of Cool producer, Douglas Rushkoff.
So, is this a battle? Are we in a fight for the character of our kids? Well, I do not do well with the language of war in the attempt to win the hearts and minds of young people. I prefer groups like Young Life, they do a much better job. However, the machinery of marketing to youth is large, formidable, and determined. Its about making money, and clearly, the moral ramifications of how money is made just do not matter.
Read the comment on the post below from my friend Scott, who has spent a number of years in the entertainment business. Often, I feel like I am watching our culture unravel. Save for the grace of God, I feel helpless sometimes.
Parenting is not for cowards. Chalk one up for MTV.
We have been recently dealing with a teenager in our house who is telling us our values are bogus, and those of the MTV generation are more fitting. We have been told, essentially, that we can go pound sand.
The specific issue we, as parents, are dealing with is not so important as is the fact that the culture, at this point, seems to be winning. Young, and hip, cool and relevant are winning out over tradition, character, and values.
I love my kids, but I really hate this situation.
Last week, I spent some time with a 26 year old seminary student who has spent the better part of the last 8 years working with young people. He mentioned that I should really watch "The Merchants of Cool" to get a better bead on youth culture and how it is being shaped by large companies, and sold to kids.
I spotted this image today on the front page of the New York Times. I was transfixed, and humbled. This is the caption that goes with the photo:
"When 2nd Lt. James Cathey's body arrived at the Reno Airport, Marines climbed into the cargo hold of the plane and draped the flag over his casket as passengers watched the family gather on the tarmac. During the arrival of another Marine's casket at Denver International Airport, Major Steve Beck described the scene as one of the most powerful in the process: "See the people in the windows? They'll sit right there in the plane, watching those Marines. You gotta wonder what's going through their minds, knowing that they're on the plane that brought him home," he said. "They're going to remember being on that plane for the rest of their lives. They're going to remember bringing that Marine home. And they should."
We should. All of us.
To see the slide show, go here. To purchase the book, go here.
Yesterday marked the bittersweet end of an era in the life of our family. Our last girls softball game at Orange Grove park.
We have been watching, cheering on, encouraging, and participating in coaching our girls at this simple little ball field for the past 10 years or so. Yesterday, our team won the league championship for 14-year old junior girls, and will advance this month to the area "Tournament of Champions"; that has a rather Olympian ring to it, does it not?
But back to the bittersweet. As Heather is our younger daugther, we have now exhausted the years that our girls can play ball at this park. It has been a wonderful ride, and I have written about it several times, both here, and here. We are so blessed.
Every once in a long time, we get the chance to stand still, if just for a moment, and reflect on what is going on in our lives. I had that chance last night. It was the 5th inning or so, and our girls were in the field. We had the game under control, coming from behind in the earlier innings; pretty darn exciting! I wandered to the far end of the dugout where the trees that ring the stands open up to the western sky. It was nearly twilight. Twilight has always been my favorite time of day, a place in time to reflect, if only briefly, on the day gone by.
As you move to the end of the dugout, its like removing yourself slightly from the action of the game, the crowd noises get a bit less, the intensity of the game seems less, somewhat softer, if you will.
There I stood, reflecting on a decade of softball games at Orange Grove Park. Thousands of people glide by each day in their cars, oblivious to the games full of little and (now, for us) bigger girls. Ten years full. Of strikeouts, walks, fly balls to left field, dropped ground balls, laughter, tears, screams, and silly girl-team cheers from the dugouts. A lot has gone on here on this green patch in the midst of the city; many memories. Little girls turned big. Toothless smiles turned bright and straight (with help from the orthodontist). Characters of young ladies were formed, by winning, and loosing, and being a good sport on the way to the car afterward. Families reconnecting each week in the stands.
Its a just a city park, a little patch of green, surrounded by homes, tennis courts, a brick office building and the Arco station. But to those of us who played there, coached there, and raised our girls on this field, its a whole lot more.
I come from a small family of three; I am an only child. Growing up, I remember our family life together often felt, well, rather small. And sheltered. And sort of isolated. Not a lot of connection with the wider outside world. Safe and insulated, that was our family. My parents liked it that way. Perhaps they were compensating for some pain in their own past.
By way of contrast, this Memorial Day weekend has been a busy one, full of get-togethers, parties, celebrations and friendship.
Thursday night there was a party for the girls JV Water Polo Team from South Pasadena High School; tons of girls and noise and laughter. Saturday night was a birthday party for our new friend, Megan, who is getting here Masters of Divinity from Fuller Seminary. New friends, new beginnings, and a celebration of a life redeemed.
Sunday afternoon was a lunch with two families we have known for years; our kids are growing up around us, heading off to college and becoming amazing people.
Yesterday was an old tradition, Memorial Day lunch and swim with old friends of more than 20 years.Being surrounded by those you love is a blessing beyond measure.
Charles Dickens knew this, and celebrated struggle, friendship, and family in his writing. One of my favorite Dickens stories is Nicholas Nickleby. This is a story of suffering, of loss, of loyalty, character, and above all, love and friendship. And this story has been made into one of my all time favorite films. At the end of the movie there is a speech made, that for me is wonderful and full of meaning. It does not quote Dickens directly, but it is good enough for me:
"In every life, no matter how full or empty one's purse, there is tragedy. It is the one promise life always fulfills. Thus, happiness is a gift, and the trick is not to expect it, but to delight in it when it comes, and to add to other people's store of it.What happens if, too early, we loose a parent? That party on whom rely for only....everything. What did these people do when their families shrank? They cried their tears. But then they did the vital thing, they built a new family, person by person. They came to see that family need not be defined merely as those with whom they share blood, but as those for whom they would give their blood.It is in that spirit that we offer this heartfelt toast, to the brides and grooms!"
This has been a weekend rich with sharing, laughter, and friendships, both new and old. I am deeply thankful.
Today I am remembering my Dad, Roland Steele Norris (1920-2007), who served this country in World War II, as a B-17 pilot trainer, and air-sea rescue captain. I am also remembering the more than 4,000 American families who have paid the ultimate price of sacrifice in the war in Iraq.
This is Zac Sunderland. He is 16, and is planning on sailing around the world. Solo.
This morning I opened the LA Times to find this article about Zac's coming adventure. Zac has a web site here, where we all can follow his travels, and watch an introductory video.
Zac is also going to be writing a blog on his journey, which should be well worth the reading.
They all lined up. 
