Philip is still in his first month at Hermes High School. He hosted a party to reconnect with friends as well as make new ones shortly before school began. One of the new friends he made at the party, Layla, asked him out and the two had their first romantic date on the first day of school. Because it was a half day, the Philip and Layla left campus together and enjoyed lunch at a nearby deli.
But on most school days, lunch is on campus. They get a fifteen minute break in the mid-morning and a thirty minute lunch break in the early afternoon. Students tend to congregate into small groups during the two breaks. And especially during lunch, each group tends to center around a particularly charismatic student: A campus warlord of sorts.
Philip and Layla agreed to divide their breaks evenly between each other and their other respective friends. When not with Layla, Philip tended to join up with a group led by his friend Tim, a sophomore. Layla in turn tended to join a group led by a guy named Ethan, the older brother of one of Layla’s best friends. Layla tried joining Philip at the table with Tim and his other friends, but it did not quite work for her. Likewise, Philip joined Layla at Ethan’s table. Ethan quickly earned Philip’s respect as did Ethan’s other friends. But in general, if he wasn’t alone with Layla, Philip preferred Tim’s crowd, or the occasional visit to sit with Ross and Ross’ other friends.
During one recent lunch Ethan convinced his crowd to carry one of the lunch tables to a shady area at the top of a hill on the edge of campus. Tim and his crowd were sitting at the table next to the one Ethan carried away. After seeing Ethan’s plan unfold, Tim hatched a plan of his own and quickly convinced his friends to join Ethan’s crowd at the top of the hill with one important difference. Tim wanted to ride on the table while the eight freshmen and sophomores carried the load up the small hill. As they approached with Tim lying in a bodysurfing position on the table, Ethan caught the scene and began clapping. Soon Ethan’s whole table was giving Tim and his crowd a standing ovation.
Philip and Tim’s other friends placed the table down next to Ethan’s table and the small crowd hurried down the hill to retrieve their lunches. The two small crowds enjoyed a private lunch together with an overlook view of the small campus below. Comfortably before the bell each group carried their respective table back down to its proper place among the other lunch tables.
It proved to be a happy memory for Philip and perhaps many of the others who enjoyed lunch in a non-traditional manner that day at Hermes High School. More importantly, it was a bonding experience. Somehow the campus warlords managed to bring their friends closer together in a special and memorable way that day. As long as that is how they leverage their leadership, their warlord status is well-deserved.
Sunday, September 27, 2009
Saturday, September 19, 2009
Preparing Them for the Freedoms of Adulthood
“How much does one ease up on the protection we gave them as children in favor of the kind of freedom we will eventually fully release to them as adults?” In an email trade with Layla’s father, I wrote those words describing the timeless question parents of adolescents often ask themselves. We both struggle with the question, and we are not alone.
With Philip entering high school, it is a logical coming of age milestone to grant him wider freedoms. But I know it would be foolish of me to grant him those freedoms without training him to manage those freedoms. He is fourteen years old now. In less than two and a half years he will be seventeen and it will be legal for him to see an R-Rated movie without parental consent. The Motion Picture Association has all kinds of criteria that separate the R rating from the PG-13 rating. With Philip, I only care about one of them: The moments of soft pornography.
While it may be an over-generalization, in my mind R-Rated movies fall into two categories. There are the action movies which usually have a small amount soft pornography. And there are the comedies which often have a large amount of soft pornography. I decided now was the time to teach him how to handle the enticing images. A particular action movie had captured Philip’s interest. It was Gamer. I told him I would take him on the condition that he and I would talk about the soft pornography element of R-Rated movies before and after we watched it together. He agreed. As it turned out, Gamer fit my generalization by revealing four bare breasts in a manner that did nothing to advance the story line.
We all know adult men who are addicted to pornography. Some of them have had to admit to their problems and establish controls in their lives in order not to succumb to the addiction. Others live secret double lives, stealing awake late at night to indulge online or via some other medium and then hiding or erasing the evidence. And finally there are those who have openly embraced the addiction as a lifestyle. All are poignantly handicapped relative to the non-addicted. Except for the most vigilant members of the first group, they have a diminished capacity to keep their eyes from wandering. In developing romantic relationships, their relative interest in the woman’s body ranges from disproportionate to downright toxic. They find the unnatural shapes caused by breast implants and liposuctions to be most appealing rather than disturbing or monstrous.
While I do not want to be judgmental toward any individual, I do want to shape the kind of person my son grows up to be. And given how much our culture’s media displays such images, I believe it is an important part of one’s education to learn how to manage one’s reaction to these images. With really only one compromising scene, Gamer proved to be the perfect film for the first such training. Philip and I could discuss it afterward, and we did. He easily agreed the scene was unnecessary to advance the plot. Actually displaying the four breasts was unnecessary to accomplish the character development of the gawking adolescent in the movie. In the end Philip could see the requisite scene for what it was. It was there to satisfy someone with an agenda different from his own.
If Philip recognizes and embraces the values I hold, I know he can learn to master his own mind. With such mastery, he can enjoy the highest budget, most action-oriented movies. He can enjoy any public beach. And most importantly, he can one day fully enjoy the private intimate relationship he will share with a spouse.
The majority of parents I meet do not agree with my approach. One group declares the images are no big deal. I suspect most of these are people who themselves indulge in pornography as adults or have chosen to accept such indulgence by a spouse. The other group believes stricter rules that shelter their sons and daughters right up until each son or daughter leaves home is the way to go. While I certainly have a greater respect for this latter group, I have witnessed too many disastrous results to embrace their strategy. That said, of all the actions I am taking as a parent to raise my son well, this is the one I question the most. Time will tell whether or not it was a wise choice.
With Philip entering high school, it is a logical coming of age milestone to grant him wider freedoms. But I know it would be foolish of me to grant him those freedoms without training him to manage those freedoms. He is fourteen years old now. In less than two and a half years he will be seventeen and it will be legal for him to see an R-Rated movie without parental consent. The Motion Picture Association has all kinds of criteria that separate the R rating from the PG-13 rating. With Philip, I only care about one of them: The moments of soft pornography.
While it may be an over-generalization, in my mind R-Rated movies fall into two categories. There are the action movies which usually have a small amount soft pornography. And there are the comedies which often have a large amount of soft pornography. I decided now was the time to teach him how to handle the enticing images. A particular action movie had captured Philip’s interest. It was Gamer. I told him I would take him on the condition that he and I would talk about the soft pornography element of R-Rated movies before and after we watched it together. He agreed. As it turned out, Gamer fit my generalization by revealing four bare breasts in a manner that did nothing to advance the story line.
We all know adult men who are addicted to pornography. Some of them have had to admit to their problems and establish controls in their lives in order not to succumb to the addiction. Others live secret double lives, stealing awake late at night to indulge online or via some other medium and then hiding or erasing the evidence. And finally there are those who have openly embraced the addiction as a lifestyle. All are poignantly handicapped relative to the non-addicted. Except for the most vigilant members of the first group, they have a diminished capacity to keep their eyes from wandering. In developing romantic relationships, their relative interest in the woman’s body ranges from disproportionate to downright toxic. They find the unnatural shapes caused by breast implants and liposuctions to be most appealing rather than disturbing or monstrous.
While I do not want to be judgmental toward any individual, I do want to shape the kind of person my son grows up to be. And given how much our culture’s media displays such images, I believe it is an important part of one’s education to learn how to manage one’s reaction to these images. With really only one compromising scene, Gamer proved to be the perfect film for the first such training. Philip and I could discuss it afterward, and we did. He easily agreed the scene was unnecessary to advance the plot. Actually displaying the four breasts was unnecessary to accomplish the character development of the gawking adolescent in the movie. In the end Philip could see the requisite scene for what it was. It was there to satisfy someone with an agenda different from his own.
If Philip recognizes and embraces the values I hold, I know he can learn to master his own mind. With such mastery, he can enjoy the highest budget, most action-oriented movies. He can enjoy any public beach. And most importantly, he can one day fully enjoy the private intimate relationship he will share with a spouse.
The majority of parents I meet do not agree with my approach. One group declares the images are no big deal. I suspect most of these are people who themselves indulge in pornography as adults or have chosen to accept such indulgence by a spouse. The other group believes stricter rules that shelter their sons and daughters right up until each son or daughter leaves home is the way to go. While I certainly have a greater respect for this latter group, I have witnessed too many disastrous results to embrace their strategy. That said, of all the actions I am taking as a parent to raise my son well, this is the one I question the most. Time will tell whether or not it was a wise choice.
Monday, August 31, 2009
Getting to School by Bike and Bus
Like many communities in our State, Hermes has no school busing system. Each morning, a convoy of SUVs, Minivans and Sedans invade school campuses to drop off kids. The same happens in the afternoon. For each dollar the State educational system saves not having school buses, parents spend perhaps five to ten dollars on gas, not to mention the time away from their work.
We decided we would break rank from this system and created “Confident Kids Caravan.” Chloe and I went to the homes of each rising fourth and fifth grader in our large, developed neighborhood promoting the idea of biking five minutes to the town’s bus terminal and taking the county bus to and from school each day. Some parents looked at me like I was the most irresponsible parent in the world for wanting my ten-year-old daughter to take the bus. Others thought it was a great idea.
As it turned out, the County bus was so under-utilized by Chloe’s elementary school that the bus schedule had gotten out of sync with the school bell schedule. But upon contacting the bus company, we saw a willingness to take quick action, and the bus schedule will be fully repaired before September is over. We have slowly been building the group of kids biking with Chloe. Chloe and Veronica’s younger brother David make up our core. A boy across the street has joined us. And once the bus schedule is corrected so that the kids are not cutting things too close, we plan to recruit again and expect to find both the excited parents and the horrified parents.
We’ve been fortunate that the same bus route to Chloe’s elementary school also takes Philip to Hermes High School. Philip has been riding his bike with Chloe and David. And the presence of a High School student makes all the parents more agreeable to the idea. Nonetheless, David’s father and I have been trading off the task of riding the bus with the kids and picking up the other at the elementary school.
Getting on the bus put me into the world of Hermes High School. A whole crowd of High School students take the bus regularly. Some of them have formed a small clique of black clothes and skateboards. The one girl in the skateboard clique brings and acoustic guitar to school each day. Once settled, she begins to strum and play some light unplugged music.
Toward the front of the bus, Chloe and David sit in eager anticipation of the school day. Philip sits in the middle of the bus and tries to get just five extra minutes of sleep. And in the back the skateboard clique talk somberly and listen to the guitar. At the stop just ahead of the High School, a man in a wheelchair boards. He says a few kind words to David and Chloe and then unpacks his breakfast of banana bread and cream cheese. He tells me he is going to the local college campus to do his morning weight-lifting which he does five days a week. His arms are perhaps twice the diameter of his legs.
Before we know it, the bus has arrived at the High School and the majority of riders disembark. Some of the High School kids need to remove their bikes from a rack on the front of the bus. Philip disappears into the crowd heading up hill to the campus and the bus engines engage. The man in the wheel chair promises David and Chloe he will pull the cord ahead of the correct bus stop. Until the schedule correction, David and Chloe will need to get off the bus one stop ahead of the official school stop. It involves crossing an intersection, but reduces to walk time in half plus adds the three minutes not spent behind the caravan of non-bus-riders being dropped off at school. David worries he will be late to class, and Chloe asks me to walk with her.
We disembark and our brisk walking outruns the slow-moving caravan. Once we cross the intersection, David runs ahead while Chloe and I gently ascend a pathway onto campus. We arrive comfortably ahead of time. Chloe gives me a big hug and I head down to the parking lot to catch my ride with David’s father.
Tomorrow, the kids ride on their own.
We decided we would break rank from this system and created “Confident Kids Caravan.” Chloe and I went to the homes of each rising fourth and fifth grader in our large, developed neighborhood promoting the idea of biking five minutes to the town’s bus terminal and taking the county bus to and from school each day. Some parents looked at me like I was the most irresponsible parent in the world for wanting my ten-year-old daughter to take the bus. Others thought it was a great idea.
As it turned out, the County bus was so under-utilized by Chloe’s elementary school that the bus schedule had gotten out of sync with the school bell schedule. But upon contacting the bus company, we saw a willingness to take quick action, and the bus schedule will be fully repaired before September is over. We have slowly been building the group of kids biking with Chloe. Chloe and Veronica’s younger brother David make up our core. A boy across the street has joined us. And once the bus schedule is corrected so that the kids are not cutting things too close, we plan to recruit again and expect to find both the excited parents and the horrified parents.
We’ve been fortunate that the same bus route to Chloe’s elementary school also takes Philip to Hermes High School. Philip has been riding his bike with Chloe and David. And the presence of a High School student makes all the parents more agreeable to the idea. Nonetheless, David’s father and I have been trading off the task of riding the bus with the kids and picking up the other at the elementary school.
Getting on the bus put me into the world of Hermes High School. A whole crowd of High School students take the bus regularly. Some of them have formed a small clique of black clothes and skateboards. The one girl in the skateboard clique brings and acoustic guitar to school each day. Once settled, she begins to strum and play some light unplugged music.
Toward the front of the bus, Chloe and David sit in eager anticipation of the school day. Philip sits in the middle of the bus and tries to get just five extra minutes of sleep. And in the back the skateboard clique talk somberly and listen to the guitar. At the stop just ahead of the High School, a man in a wheelchair boards. He says a few kind words to David and Chloe and then unpacks his breakfast of banana bread and cream cheese. He tells me he is going to the local college campus to do his morning weight-lifting which he does five days a week. His arms are perhaps twice the diameter of his legs.
Before we know it, the bus has arrived at the High School and the majority of riders disembark. Some of the High School kids need to remove their bikes from a rack on the front of the bus. Philip disappears into the crowd heading up hill to the campus and the bus engines engage. The man in the wheel chair promises David and Chloe he will pull the cord ahead of the correct bus stop. Until the schedule correction, David and Chloe will need to get off the bus one stop ahead of the official school stop. It involves crossing an intersection, but reduces to walk time in half plus adds the three minutes not spent behind the caravan of non-bus-riders being dropped off at school. David worries he will be late to class, and Chloe asks me to walk with her.
We disembark and our brisk walking outruns the slow-moving caravan. Once we cross the intersection, David runs ahead while Chloe and I gently ascend a pathway onto campus. We arrive comfortably ahead of time. Chloe gives me a big hug and I head down to the parking lot to catch my ride with David’s father.
Tomorrow, the kids ride on their own.
Sunday, August 30, 2009
An Unexpected Development
The Saturday before he began his freshman year at Hermes High School, Philip hosted a teen social with the goal of reconnecting with his old friends after two years at Oak Hills Charter School as well as making new ones. He invited roughly twenty guests he knew mostly from Hermes Middles School and gave each invited guest the opportunity to bring one friend along. While most of the guys accepted his invitation, few of the girls came. Jocelyn and four of the other girls invited were spending the weekend in a mountain cabin together and declined his invitation. Veronica and Heidi were the only invited girls who came, but each brought a friend along. There were a total of twelve guys and four girls. Veronica brought another rather earthy friend named Cassidy whose hair went all the way down to her knees. Heidi brought a friend named Layla.
Layla truly stood out. First of all, she was quite tall. Both her parents were Dutch and she had a very slight but noticeable Dutch accent. The other girls seemed to defer to Layla’s leadership regarding whether to jump on the trampoline, enjoy the music, or go inside for the videos and guitar hero games. When two of the guys accidently bumped into one another and one appeared to have hurt the bone above his right eye, Layla led that guy inside and got him an ice pack from our freezer. Among the girls she was the most comfortable socializing with the guys and worked herself among all the guests. When a small group of guys were potentially getting too rowdy, she quickly alerted me to her concern.
Layla also invested time in Chloe who was permitted to take part in the evening’s festivities with her friend Patty. The two tween girls wanted to take Layla upstairs to show Chloe’s room to Layla, but I did not permit them. Still, Layla helped Chloe and Patty enjoy themselves on the trampoline. Then what was probably the critical moment of the evening arrived. There were a handful of teenagers jumping on the trampoline with Chloe and Patty, and someone’s foot half landed onto Chloe’s foot. Chloe sat down and started to cry complaining that her foot hurt. Philip abandoned his circle of guys chatting to get onto the trampoline to comfort Chloe, while Patty went inside to get me. Philip then picked up Chloe, brought her over to me walking on his knees on the trampoline and gently laid Chloe into my arms. Meanwhile, Layla looked on with interest.
How Layla ended up being the last guest at the party is not exactly clear. But as far as I can tell, Layla had originally planned to catch her ride home with Heidi and Heidi’s mother. But Layla instead made separate arrangements to have her own mother pick her up fifteen minutes after the party officially ended at ten-fifteen. As I was cleaning up the last of the party’s debris, Philip, Layla, Chloe and Patty were in a corner chatting amiably and passing my camera around to take silly pictures. Finally Layla’s mother arrived and I brought her inside to collect Layla. “The party is now officially over,” I announced.
Layla looked over to see her mother standing next to me. Layla was silent for a few moments, merely blinking in her mother’s direction. “Could you maybe come back around twelve-thirty?” Layla asked her mother. I offered Layla’s mother a glass of wine to give the kids a little more time to wind down, but Layla’s mother wanted to operate more quickly. Nonetheless, Layla’s mother allowed Layla to introduce Philip and before leaving Layla asked Philip for his mobile phone number. Clearly, the two had enjoyed meeting one another.
The first text message from Layla made Philip's mobile phone vibrate some time before noon on Sunday. Philip and Layla began trading text messages in the afternoon until by evening their replies to one another were almost instantaneous. Perhaps seventy five messages in total were traded. They talked about all the things two teenagers just entering high school might discuss. Layla even confided some private struggles to which Philip responded with supportive words.
Then there was an unexpected development. Layla asked Philip if he had a girlfriend. Philip coyly answered, no. Layla sent him back a text asking him out. And Philip staying coy nonetheless told her yes. And so Philip’s first romance began.
Layla truly stood out. First of all, she was quite tall. Both her parents were Dutch and she had a very slight but noticeable Dutch accent. The other girls seemed to defer to Layla’s leadership regarding whether to jump on the trampoline, enjoy the music, or go inside for the videos and guitar hero games. When two of the guys accidently bumped into one another and one appeared to have hurt the bone above his right eye, Layla led that guy inside and got him an ice pack from our freezer. Among the girls she was the most comfortable socializing with the guys and worked herself among all the guests. When a small group of guys were potentially getting too rowdy, she quickly alerted me to her concern.
Layla also invested time in Chloe who was permitted to take part in the evening’s festivities with her friend Patty. The two tween girls wanted to take Layla upstairs to show Chloe’s room to Layla, but I did not permit them. Still, Layla helped Chloe and Patty enjoy themselves on the trampoline. Then what was probably the critical moment of the evening arrived. There were a handful of teenagers jumping on the trampoline with Chloe and Patty, and someone’s foot half landed onto Chloe’s foot. Chloe sat down and started to cry complaining that her foot hurt. Philip abandoned his circle of guys chatting to get onto the trampoline to comfort Chloe, while Patty went inside to get me. Philip then picked up Chloe, brought her over to me walking on his knees on the trampoline and gently laid Chloe into my arms. Meanwhile, Layla looked on with interest.
How Layla ended up being the last guest at the party is not exactly clear. But as far as I can tell, Layla had originally planned to catch her ride home with Heidi and Heidi’s mother. But Layla instead made separate arrangements to have her own mother pick her up fifteen minutes after the party officially ended at ten-fifteen. As I was cleaning up the last of the party’s debris, Philip, Layla, Chloe and Patty were in a corner chatting amiably and passing my camera around to take silly pictures. Finally Layla’s mother arrived and I brought her inside to collect Layla. “The party is now officially over,” I announced.
Layla looked over to see her mother standing next to me. Layla was silent for a few moments, merely blinking in her mother’s direction. “Could you maybe come back around twelve-thirty?” Layla asked her mother. I offered Layla’s mother a glass of wine to give the kids a little more time to wind down, but Layla’s mother wanted to operate more quickly. Nonetheless, Layla’s mother allowed Layla to introduce Philip and before leaving Layla asked Philip for his mobile phone number. Clearly, the two had enjoyed meeting one another.
The first text message from Layla made Philip's mobile phone vibrate some time before noon on Sunday. Philip and Layla began trading text messages in the afternoon until by evening their replies to one another were almost instantaneous. Perhaps seventy five messages in total were traded. They talked about all the things two teenagers just entering high school might discuss. Layla even confided some private struggles to which Philip responded with supportive words.
Then there was an unexpected development. Layla asked Philip if he had a girlfriend. Philip coyly answered, no. Layla sent him back a text asking him out. And Philip staying coy nonetheless told her yes. And so Philip’s first romance began.
Monday, August 17, 2009
What a Good-Bye Says
The first full week in August was the week both Philip and Chloe went away to overnight camp. They went to two separate camps a short drive from one another. The plan at each camp was a Sunday afternoon drop-off and a Saturday morning pick-up. We spent the bulk of drop-off Sunday packing and finished within an hour of needing to leave. We went through each packing list and I wouldn’t let them pack anything until I’d read it from the list and they held it up so I could check it off as I watched them pack the item in question. We had to go to the store to purchase flashlights, bug spray and single-use cameras. Amelia was conveniently on a girls-weekend-away and the entire parenting responsibility was on my shoulders. We filled the trunk and half the back seat of the car.
Chloe was dropped off first. Her camp had everyone arriving inside the same forty minute window, so we had to endure an ordeal parking and then walking her week’s worth of clothing and supplies to a central registration area. For whatever reason Chloe’s medical information was not on file. So I had to wait in line for ten minutes to deal with the camp authorities to ensure all her paperwork was properly filled out. Amelia who had all the information like the name and number of the primary care physician along with the kids’ medical cards was conveniently out of mobile phone range. But eventually the paperwork was complete to the camp’s satisfaction and we carried Chloe’s week’s worth of luggage to her cabin. We arrived in time to secure the last remaining top bunk. We stayed to put her stuff away, meet her counselor and her cabin-mates and say our good-byes. Normally, Chloe wants a long good-bye, like when I go on an overnight business trip or even spend the day somewhere other than the home office. But now the situation was reversed. She gave her brother a token hug and she gave me the shortest hug I’d received in a very long time before her left hand was on the small of my back guiding me to exit the cabin.
Philip’s camp had a later arrival time. We drove to the tiny downtown on the edge of the woods fifteen minutes from the camp’s entrance. We could tell we were running twenty minutes early. So we parked and walked into the town’s small grocery store and bought two ice creams on a stick. We walked through the little hamlet and mostly just talked. I told him a few stories from my time at overnight camp. We looked at some artwork in one set of windows and some home listings in another window. We managed to enjoy a relaxing twenty-five minutes before heading into the woods to drop him off at Camp.
We endured another parking and registration ordeal but nothing was missing this time. His counselor told us to drop Philip’s stuff off at the cabin and then meet on the same field where registration was taking place. I carried Philips large suitcase. He carried his duffle bag and sleeping bag. His cabin was far up a steep hill. We were the second to arrive in his cabin and Philip chose a top bunk. He chatted briefly with the kid who arrived before him and the two kids who arrived after him. I stood outside the cabin letting him connect with his new cabin-mates. Then he came out and told me he was ready to go back down. I began walking with him and expected to say good-bye at the field, but Philip then began to run ahead of me. I planned to say a quick good-bye to him on the field, but he wasn’t there when I arrived. He must have gone to some favorite spot he knew about from his previous summers at this camp. Either way, I couldn’t find him. The camp gave me a cup of not-for-campers lemonade and I drove off deprived of any more of a good-bye from Philip.
Were the good-byes I received a good thing? I got a brief hug from Chloe and the words “I’m ready to go back down now,” from Philip. Separating from their dad in favor of something fun was not a big deal to either of them. And as a parent who knows there are only so many years left, I know the shorter the good-byes, the more ready they are for adulthood.
Friday, July 31, 2009
A Growing Ease and Confidence
Early last Saturday evening the phone rang and I was the one to answer the phone, “Hello.”
“Hi Mr. Askins. Is Philip there?” It was Craig.
“Philip isn’t here at the moment Craig. Are you calling to see if he would want to get together with you to do something tonight?”
“Uh yeah. But that’s OK if he’s not in tonight.”
“Philip is not here, but I think he’d be interested in getting together. He’s down at the Cambodian Barbeque with Joshua and his sister Debbie. We’re headed down there right now. There’s a live band. I don’t know if you have been there before but you can get a small Gelato inexpensively. I’m sure Philip would love to have you join him. You can talk about doing something afterwards.”
“Uh, sure. Maybe I’ll go down there then.” And the two of us politely exchanged our good-byes.
The Cambodian Barbeque opened in Hermes just as the recession was gaining stride. The restaurant and its owners have defied the odds with great food, great prices, great ambiance and solid customer service. They now have live music every Friday and Saturday evening which draws enough of a crowd and the associated business to well offset the cost. As far as location goes, they are in a strip mall half way between the town’s two largest office parks and they share a nice lunchtime business with a local pizza chain, a Mexican restaurant, a Wendy’s, a fancy Japanese restaurant and an upscale grocery store. Their Gelato offering competes nicely with a frozen yogurt shop and a Starbucks in the same strip mall which is walking distance from Hermes High School.
When Amelia and I arrived at the Cambodian Barbeque with Chloe, we saw Craig had arrived ahead of us and had joined Philip, Joshua and Debbie at a four seat table. This was the first time since Philip’s birthday party I had witnessed Craig in a teen social setting that was larger than just Craig and Philip. At Philip’s birthday party four months earlier I had observed Craig failing to navigate any relationship but the one he enjoyed with Philip, and I had been concerned that Craig and Philip’s friendship might not survive the transition to high school as a result.
But four months maturation had clearly been kind to Craig. He had an ease and confidence I had not witnessed in him before. Even Joshua’s thirteen-year-old sister Debbie seemed perfectly comfortable sharing the dinner table with Craig—though admittedly Debbie lived under the same roof with Joshua and was accustomed to Joshua’s early adolescent antics. In my mind, Debbie’s acceptance of Craig was the truest indicator of Craig’s maturation.
It was a dramatic change. Craig wasn’t positioning to control the conversation, needing to outdo Joshua’s one-liners or sulking when others were getting more attention. Debbie and the three young guys talked about movies, music, video games, sports and who knows what else. For the four of them, the adult world of everyone else at the restaurant must have seemed like a grey blur and a dull roar of white noise. They were completely focused upon one another and enjoyed trading their various stories and opinions.
Once the four had finished eating, they left their table and went for a walk around the strip mall. As the live music set was drawing to a close, Philip came up to me and asked if he could invite both Craig and Joshua to sleep over at the house that night. Amelia and I accepted. A few mobile phone calls later, all the arrangements had been made.
As the rest of the house settled down for the night, Philip, Craig and Joshua moved around from Youtube, the Wii and the Roku. When I said goodnight to them, they had settled down to watch a movie on the Roku. They looked so comfortable hanging out together. Craig looked especially comfortable.
There was a growing ease and comfort that hadn’t been there only four months ago, and I was very, very happy for Craig’s sake. I’m now certain Philip and Craig’s friendship will survive the transition to high school.
“Hi Mr. Askins. Is Philip there?” It was Craig.
“Philip isn’t here at the moment Craig. Are you calling to see if he would want to get together with you to do something tonight?”
“Uh yeah. But that’s OK if he’s not in tonight.”
“Philip is not here, but I think he’d be interested in getting together. He’s down at the Cambodian Barbeque with Joshua and his sister Debbie. We’re headed down there right now. There’s a live band. I don’t know if you have been there before but you can get a small Gelato inexpensively. I’m sure Philip would love to have you join him. You can talk about doing something afterwards.”
“Uh, sure. Maybe I’ll go down there then.” And the two of us politely exchanged our good-byes.
The Cambodian Barbeque opened in Hermes just as the recession was gaining stride. The restaurant and its owners have defied the odds with great food, great prices, great ambiance and solid customer service. They now have live music every Friday and Saturday evening which draws enough of a crowd and the associated business to well offset the cost. As far as location goes, they are in a strip mall half way between the town’s two largest office parks and they share a nice lunchtime business with a local pizza chain, a Mexican restaurant, a Wendy’s, a fancy Japanese restaurant and an upscale grocery store. Their Gelato offering competes nicely with a frozen yogurt shop and a Starbucks in the same strip mall which is walking distance from Hermes High School.
When Amelia and I arrived at the Cambodian Barbeque with Chloe, we saw Craig had arrived ahead of us and had joined Philip, Joshua and Debbie at a four seat table. This was the first time since Philip’s birthday party I had witnessed Craig in a teen social setting that was larger than just Craig and Philip. At Philip’s birthday party four months earlier I had observed Craig failing to navigate any relationship but the one he enjoyed with Philip, and I had been concerned that Craig and Philip’s friendship might not survive the transition to high school as a result.
But four months maturation had clearly been kind to Craig. He had an ease and confidence I had not witnessed in him before. Even Joshua’s thirteen-year-old sister Debbie seemed perfectly comfortable sharing the dinner table with Craig—though admittedly Debbie lived under the same roof with Joshua and was accustomed to Joshua’s early adolescent antics. In my mind, Debbie’s acceptance of Craig was the truest indicator of Craig’s maturation.
It was a dramatic change. Craig wasn’t positioning to control the conversation, needing to outdo Joshua’s one-liners or sulking when others were getting more attention. Debbie and the three young guys talked about movies, music, video games, sports and who knows what else. For the four of them, the adult world of everyone else at the restaurant must have seemed like a grey blur and a dull roar of white noise. They were completely focused upon one another and enjoyed trading their various stories and opinions.
Once the four had finished eating, they left their table and went for a walk around the strip mall. As the live music set was drawing to a close, Philip came up to me and asked if he could invite both Craig and Joshua to sleep over at the house that night. Amelia and I accepted. A few mobile phone calls later, all the arrangements had been made.
As the rest of the house settled down for the night, Philip, Craig and Joshua moved around from Youtube, the Wii and the Roku. When I said goodnight to them, they had settled down to watch a movie on the Roku. They looked so comfortable hanging out together. Craig looked especially comfortable.
There was a growing ease and comfort that hadn’t been there only four months ago, and I was very, very happy for Craig’s sake. I’m now certain Philip and Craig’s friendship will survive the transition to high school.
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Once We Knew, It Was No Big Deal
I remember almost nothing about the woman I'd never seen before or since. I have no memory of the conversation she had with my mother or the location it all took place. I only remember that immediately afterwards my mother and I got into her car to head home. Once the car doors were closed and my mother and I were effectively alone under the cone of silence, she turned the ignition and said matter-of-factly, "By the way, in case you did not notice, that woman was not wearing a bra."
I was perhaps the age Philip is now. I didn't think it was any big deal that some adult woman I did not know was not wearing a bra. And since my mother did not have anything else to say on the topic, it seemed my mother did not think it was a big deal either. Perhaps my mother disapproved of the fashion statement. If so, her disapproval was only mild.
Regardless, my mother had imparted knowledge I later appreciated having—not regarding the woman who had been speaking with my mother that day, but regarding other women (particularly my teenage gal-peers) whose torsos did not reflect the culturally normative dual torpedo look. I had once wondered whether they had some developmental abnormality. From that day onward, I knew there was no developmental abnormality. It became no big deal. It was at most an earthy fashion statement.
Fast forward to this past Saturday. Amelia and I helped our son Philip host a neighborhood teen social. Included among the guests was a teenage girl we barely knew from five doors down named Veronica. Veronica brought her best friend Heidi along. Veronica and Heidi proved to be perfect guests for Philip's teen social. They were fun, chatty and they were neither shy toward nor overtly interested in their guy-peers at the party, all of whom they were meeting for the very first time that evening. Veronica was tall, commanding and mildly athletic-looking. Heidi was more intellectual in her demeanor. She wore wire-rimmed glasses, and sported particularly fair skin, eyes and hair.
While refilling the bowl of chips some time in the middle of the party I noticed something else about Heidi I had not seen with any of Philip's gal-peers before. Heidi was not wearing a bra. Heidi’s choice of attire was consistent with her very earthy temperament and the realization was no big deal for me. By the time I returned to the other room to resume chatting with the other parent chaperones, I had already forgotten about Heidi’s earthy fashion statement. But some time the next day I did remember. And with that memory followed the memory of what my mother had said to me matter-of-factly years ago. I quickly concluded I owed Philip nothing less.
So on Sunday night, I invited Philip to go for a walk with me. We’ve gone for quite a number of enjoyable walks together during recent evenings, so my invitation was not a source of concern to Philip. But once we were alone on our walk I told him I wanted to have one of those father-son chats but that he had nothing to worry about. “In fact,” I said, “once we’re done, what we will have talked about will be no big deal.”
I began by telling Philip the story about my mother and the lady I barely remember. Once he understood the story and how I’d initially thought there was some developmental abnormality, I then told him that Heidi had not been wearing a bra and that was what a gal’s torso looks like when she is not wearing a bra. “Dad! I didn’t exactly eye her up and down last night,” he retorted.
“Of course you didn’t,” I replied. “And I didn’t eye her up and down either. I merely noticed. The next time you see Heidi, she probably won’t be wearing a bra then either. So after a quick glance, you’ll remember this talk and you’ll understand what you see. After that, it will always be no big deal.”
“Alright,” he quipped. “As long as you understand it is no big deal, dad.” And with that I knew Philip understood.
I was perhaps the age Philip is now. I didn't think it was any big deal that some adult woman I did not know was not wearing a bra. And since my mother did not have anything else to say on the topic, it seemed my mother did not think it was a big deal either. Perhaps my mother disapproved of the fashion statement. If so, her disapproval was only mild.
Regardless, my mother had imparted knowledge I later appreciated having—not regarding the woman who had been speaking with my mother that day, but regarding other women (particularly my teenage gal-peers) whose torsos did not reflect the culturally normative dual torpedo look. I had once wondered whether they had some developmental abnormality. From that day onward, I knew there was no developmental abnormality. It became no big deal. It was at most an earthy fashion statement.
Fast forward to this past Saturday. Amelia and I helped our son Philip host a neighborhood teen social. Included among the guests was a teenage girl we barely knew from five doors down named Veronica. Veronica brought her best friend Heidi along. Veronica and Heidi proved to be perfect guests for Philip's teen social. They were fun, chatty and they were neither shy toward nor overtly interested in their guy-peers at the party, all of whom they were meeting for the very first time that evening. Veronica was tall, commanding and mildly athletic-looking. Heidi was more intellectual in her demeanor. She wore wire-rimmed glasses, and sported particularly fair skin, eyes and hair.
While refilling the bowl of chips some time in the middle of the party I noticed something else about Heidi I had not seen with any of Philip's gal-peers before. Heidi was not wearing a bra. Heidi’s choice of attire was consistent with her very earthy temperament and the realization was no big deal for me. By the time I returned to the other room to resume chatting with the other parent chaperones, I had already forgotten about Heidi’s earthy fashion statement. But some time the next day I did remember. And with that memory followed the memory of what my mother had said to me matter-of-factly years ago. I quickly concluded I owed Philip nothing less.
So on Sunday night, I invited Philip to go for a walk with me. We’ve gone for quite a number of enjoyable walks together during recent evenings, so my invitation was not a source of concern to Philip. But once we were alone on our walk I told him I wanted to have one of those father-son chats but that he had nothing to worry about. “In fact,” I said, “once we’re done, what we will have talked about will be no big deal.”
I began by telling Philip the story about my mother and the lady I barely remember. Once he understood the story and how I’d initially thought there was some developmental abnormality, I then told him that Heidi had not been wearing a bra and that was what a gal’s torso looks like when she is not wearing a bra. “Dad! I didn’t exactly eye her up and down last night,” he retorted.
“Of course you didn’t,” I replied. “And I didn’t eye her up and down either. I merely noticed. The next time you see Heidi, she probably won’t be wearing a bra then either. So after a quick glance, you’ll remember this talk and you’ll understand what you see. After that, it will always be no big deal.”
“Alright,” he quipped. “As long as you understand it is no big deal, dad.” And with that I knew Philip understood.
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