Posts Tagged ‘life lessons’

The truth about cats and dogs…please

Monday, November 23rd, 2009

Over the weekend I rented the movie “Marley and Me.” It was pretty cute, well done, not particularly original, and definitely not a “kids’ movie.”

But it touched upon an issue that pushes a button for me. Now, I don’t want to give anything away in case you haven’t seen it, but since the story covers a number of years, it goes without saying that Marley grows older. Near the end of the movie, the family is concerned about the dog’s health. One of the kids says that his friend says that dogs sometimes just go away to die alone when the time comes. That’s what the friend’s beagle did, the kid says.

No, says the mom, maybe beagles do that, but “not labs like Marley.”

Hello? Why do parents insist upon lying to their kids about something as important as death? Parents offer all kinds of stories to explain the loss of a pet: It ran away. We left him at the vet. With little pets, they can sometimes pull off putting a new one in the cage or bowl while the kids aren’t looking.

Death offers one thing that none of these fabrications do, however: closure.

Everybody dies! Not just dogs and cats and hamsters and goldfish, but people too! And if kids are lucky, they will experience the death of at least one pet before that of a person—grandparent, parent, or—God forbid—a sibling or classmate. Going through the grieving process over a pet is like “practice” for when it happens with a person. Take away the little lesson, and the big lesson is harder.

Letting the kids be “in on it” as much as possible is the best strategy. Okay, if your pet was hit by a car and mangled, that might be too disturbing for younger kids to see. But if you’re having him put to sleep, if the pet dies at home, or even if the pet is hit and killed but not mutilated, let the kids see what death looks like.

Lying to them to “protect” them is an oxymoron. The truth, please.

Tags: , ,
Posted in Uncategorized | 2 Comments »

Watch where you’re going

Tuesday, October 13th, 2009

Seeing the Blue Angels on Saturday, amazed at their talents, I was reminded of a Blue Angels tragedy that occurred some years back. As I recall, the setup for this tragedy involved the fact that when the Blue Angels perform, only the lead pilot knows where they’re going at all times, and in some maneuvers, each of the other three pilots simply follows the one before him. This usually results in a perfect performance of all four planes executing the exact same moves, with stunning visual effect.

In this case, however, the lead pilot misjudged his position and flew too close to the ground. One after the other, all four planes slammed into the ground, destroying the jets and killing the pilots instantly. It probably all happened in a matter of seconds, with tragic loss of life and horror for all who observed it.

The Blue Angels know what they’re doing. They are extraordinarily skilled pilots as well as showmen. This method almost always works. In this one instance, however, a tiny mistake resulted in an enormous disaster.

Most of us will never be Blue Angels pilots, and most of our mistakes will never have as huge consequences or have as many observers as this. So for those of us who don’t have to rely 100% on the person in front of us to know where we’re going, it’s better if we have a good idea of where that is ourselves.

Tags:
Posted in Uncategorized | 1 Comment »

The Mary Poppins effect, part 3

Wednesday, September 16th, 2009

Here’s my third and final takeaway from Mary Poppins. As kids, we don’t always appreciate the effort that’s been put into something for our benefit. Take, for example, the talent that went into the making of this movie. Now, Mary Poppins was released in 1964; some of the animation and special effects may look “cheesy” to us, but in a way, that just makes the results more impressive.

There’s the acting. The chemistry between Mary and Bert is just palpable, is it not? As a kid, I found the different British accents of the characters both amusing and confusing. I read recently that Dick Van Dyke’s fake Cockney accent made the list of “worst movie accents ever.” Ah well; I reluctantly concede that it’s pretty bad.

But the dancing! I saw a YouTube clip of Mr. Van Dyke on the Rosie O’Donnell show where he said he didn’t start dancing until his 30s. Since he was still in his 30s when the movie was made, he had been dancing only a few years! Amazing! As a kid, I had no clue about the skill required to dance so well—all I knew was that I was being entertained.

And therein is the takeaway: we don’t always know what others are doing that benefits us. Much of the time, all we notice is whether or not we are pleased with a situation. I suggest that we will all be blessed if we pay more attention to the contributions of others.

Tags: , ,
Posted in Uncategorized | 2 Comments »

The Mary Poppins effect, part 2

Tuesday, September 15th, 2009

Another aspect of Mary Poppins that didn’t have a significant impact on me as a child—but did now—was Uncle Albert’s peculiar habit of laughing so hard he levitates up to the ceiling. Remember the scene? Mary, along with Jane, Michael, and Bert, goes to visit Uncle Albert because he’s having a particularly severe spell of…what? Jollity, merriment, the giggles? Anyway, he’s up there, telling corny jokes and laughing until he tumbles head-over-heels, just below the ceiling.

Then the others catch what he has—first the children, then Bert, and finally Mary—and they all end up having a tea party while hovering in the air.

It all reminds me of Marci Shimoff’s book Happy for No Reason. Do we really need a “reason” to laugh so hard that we float—if not literally, at least figuratively? I say no! So be happy, laugh, and infect others with your happiness.

Tags: , ,
Posted in Uncategorized | No Comments »

The Mary Poppins effect, part 1

Monday, September 14th, 2009

I watched Mary Poppins on DVD over the weekend. I’d seen the movie as a kid, when it was new in the theater. I can’t remember if I saw it again, perhaps on TV, in the intervening years.

When you watch a movie again as an adult, of course, you get something rather different out of it. Such was the case with Mary Poppins. As a kid, I grieved along with Jane and Michael Banks as Mary packed up to leave. “Don’t you love us, Mary Poppins?” they asked. I figured the Banks family had found their perfect nanny at last and that they’d all live happily ever after—until Jane and Michael outgrew the need for nannies, anyway. But it was not to be; she left just as everyone was getting happy. How mean! Yet she must have had her reasons, I figured, even at that age: someone as sweet and wonderful as Mary Poppins wouldn’t be mean on purpose.

Now, of course, I understand. Mary Poppins had other kids to take care of, other families to “fix.” The Bankses were forever changed; they had been a dysfunctional family with unruly kids who’d frightened off a whole string of nannies. During Mary’s brief stay, Mr. Banks learned to appreciate his kids, and the entire household was left in a better state than it was before her arrival. And this is how it is with many of the people and events in our lives—we’re happy when they come, and sad when they go, but, if we are wise, are forever changed.

Tags: , ,
Posted in Uncategorized | No Comments »

Bright spot

Monday, August 17th, 2009

I happened to be standing at the kitchen window this morning when something bright red caught my eye. It was a bird with a bright-red “helmet,” clearly a woodpecker, as it was busily pecking at the base of an oak tree. When I returned from getting my Audubon bird book, it was still there, and soon joined by another bird of the same feather.

Flipping through the book as I glanced back at the birds to make a correct ID, I determined they were acorn woodpeckers. My neighborhood is definitely their type of habitat, by the book’s description—pine and oak forest.

The funny thing is that I don’t see them more often. I see plenty of ladder-backed woodpeckers, but not the acorn variety. Perhaps nature was saving the bright spots for when I really needed them.

Tags: ,
Posted in Uncategorized | No Comments »

Finally, the bruise appears

Tuesday, July 28th, 2009

Yesterday I told about my rafting trip. One of my minor mishaps on the trip was falling into the boat (which, by the way, is much better than falling out of the boat) on some rapids, and smacking myself in the jaw with my paddle.

The rest of the day (Sunday) and the following day (Monday), it hurt. Sometimes I had the sense that it made my whole face hurt. Resting my chin in my hand was out of the question.

Finally, this morning (Tuesday), a small, dark bruise appeared—right on my jaw line, just to the left of my chin. It was satisfying to finally see the thing that hurt—even though I knew the injury was real.

Aren’t a lot of things in life like that? We know something’s wrong, but it’s such a relief to be able to see it? Perhaps that’s why people get into addictive and self-destructive behaviors. Something is wrong in their lives, but often it’s an “invisible” problem, and behaviors that are observable make the problem seem more real.

And often, the worst thing is the feeling is that the problem is all in our imagination.

Tags: ,
Posted in Uncategorized | No Comments »

“This is kind of like…”

Monday, July 27th, 2009

I went rafting yesterday. Twelve miles down the American River. I’d been canoeing on the Russian River, inner-tubing on the Mokelumne River, and swimming in the Cosumnes River, as well as similar activities in numerous lakes, but this was my first river-rafting trip per se.

Interestingly, the thing that river rafting seemed most similar to was…horseback riding.

For one thing, you’re not sitting in the raft, but on the side of it, which reminded me of riding sidesaddle bareback. You have “stirrups”—one foot is tucked into a cuff on the bottom of the boat, and the other is jammed wherever you can find a tight spot to jam it into. This is to keep you in the boat when you get air—that is, when you bounce up off your seat in rapids.

So this was a little like posting in English horseback riding; rather than bounce up & down uncomfortably in your seat, you can anticipate the rough waters and lift your rear end up off the boat in advance.

Yet another similarity is that if you fall off (which no one in our boat did), your only real option is to get back on.

It occurred to me that by the time you get to the middle years of your life, most of the things you’ll do are a little like something you’ve already done. Transferable lessons, I guess you could call it. That is encouraging, when you think about it.

Tags:
Posted in Uncategorized | 2 Comments »