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Posts Tagged ‘children’

It was forty years ago in LA, the Olympics that is, when we were living in the Berkshires and I was about to give birth to the Rocker. We lived in a farmhouse on the outskirts of a bird sanctuary. Idyllic and terrifyingly beautiful, surrounded by cardinals, chickadees and grouse, there was a dairy farm up the road. I had picked the date of his birth, a repeat C-section was scheduled; Reagan was president, I remember watching the Olympics live while nursing my newborn baby boy.

Synchronized swimming and rhythmic gymnastics debuted in Los Angeles as Olympic events, as did wind surfing.”

There is a picture of us at the Bris, tall gladiolus of every color stood guard while friends gathered. Two rabbis came and Grandma Ada was there. She would drive four hours from NJ, always bringing food, “Did you eat?” and a cousin or two. We loved to sit on the swing in the big screened-in porch; the bassinet was on that porch because babies need fresh air. I looked so young, so peaceful. Or maybe I was just exhausted.

John Williams composed the theme for the Olympiad, “Los Angeles Olympic Theme” later also known as “Olympic Fanfare and Theme“. This piece won a Grammy for Williams and became one of the most well-known musical themes of the Olympic Games…”

I’ve just returned from LA, from visiting the Rocker and Aunt Kiki. My baby grew up to be a talented musician and composer. His company debuted two new trailers while I was there – one for a movie and one for an Apple series. I told them about the Woodstock themed 40th birthday party I’d planned for Bob’s big day, and we talked about my son’s generation – listening to Kurt Cobain, learning to design and create websites. Somewhere between Gen X and the Millennial Generation, the Rocker is a Xennial, a unique subset.

“You have a childhood, youth, and adolescence free of having to worry about social media posts and mobile phones. … We learned to consume media and came of age before there was Facebook and Twitter and Snapchat and all these things where you still watch the evening news or read the newspaper.” https://www.bos.com/inspired/xennials-what-you-need-to-know-about-this-micro-generation/

Their California home is like a tree house, perched on a hill with lush tropical plants. We watched the Paris Olympic skateboarding finals on Peacock, a streaming platform. I thought about my son doing tricks on a skateboard, playing rollerblade hockey, moving effortlessly through my dreams. He is tall and lanky like my brothers, Po the Cat drapes herself along his legs while we critique the athletes. And we cooked and played together in the kitchen to fantastical music Kiki curated. My baby is turning 40.

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As we approached the medieval city of Pietrasanta last week, I was surprised to see a giant sculpture of a teddy bear laying down outside of a church with a knife through his heart. Marco and Claudio had told us this place has long been a haven for artists – from Paul Klee and Joan Miro to Henry Moore and Fernando Botero. But I had no idea the exhibit we were about to see, including large busts of cherubic angels with their mouths taped shut inside the deconsecrated church , was by a sculptor connected to the Jersey Shore, Rachel Lee Hovnanian!

Hovnanian’s “Poor Teddy in Repose” sculpture shares a powerful message. “Poor Teddy is a reflection on the ways in which childhood playtime has changed in the contemporary era,” Hovnanian shares about her work. “Children are no longer interested in teddy bears and other tangible toys – the smartphone seems to have eclipsed all other toys as the ultimate pass-time for children, a knife to the heart for Teddy.”…Hovnanian goes on to share that her choice of raw material – bronze – was deliberate. “It emphasizes the industrialization and commercialization of childhood,” she explains.” https://www.forbes.com/sites/janehanson/2024/05/28/how-one-artist-is-using-teddy-bears-and-angels-to-redefine-the-way-we-communicate/

It was a July day in 2002 when Hovnanian’s 15 year old son, Alton, drowned in his jet ski-type watercraft in the Navesink River. Word spread quickly in our Rumson-Fair Haven community, Hovnanian Enterprises was the number one building firm in the state. Alton was taken to my husband Bob’s ER in Red Bank, NJ. I had friends who were good friends with the boy’s grandmother. His grandfather, Kevork, was an Armenian immigrant from Iraq when he started his company.

Now the silent angels stared down at me, more menacing. I felt a chill inside the dark vestibule of the Complesso di Sant Agostino, maybe it was my fever? We turned a corner only to find another gigantic, lonely teddy bear surrounded by floating, electric plugs that looked like the tentacles of an octopus. The Love Bug said it made her feel sad, and we talked about the meaning of art. The Rocker told me the artist herself was in the next room.

It was an accident that night when Alton plowed into a moored sailboat. The Rocker was 17 and had just graduated high school, we were packing him up for college; while Rachel was burying her son instead of sending him off to high school. Luckily, I had stopped writing for the local newspaper the year before. And here we were, in Tuscany, in a room with another Poor Teddy having a solo tea party.

When we arrived home, I handed over my iPad to the Bug for her Design Camp. She is an artist like her Aunt Kiki! You see, I thought I would be the Nana with a basket for devices by the door; that Grands would be required to drop their screens and connect IRL. This was my fantasy. But instead, I am the wild Nana who says “Anything Goes” when the kids come to our house. My daughter and her Groom said “NO” to screens until thirteen!

At first, we went along with their Luddite ways. I hated to see a toddler in a stroller clutching an iPad while sucking a pacifier! But lately, social media seems to have creeped into the Grands’ lives nonetheless. After all, mostly all of her friends have either a cell phone, a tablet or a smart watch. While we were walking through the ancient streets of Pietrasanta, I noticed the Love Bug, who will turn 12 this summer, doing a little dance move of her own here and there. I asked her where she learned it.

“Oh, it’s on TikTok,” she said. “All my friends are doing it.”

Poor Teddy

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There is a constant buzzing in my ears. Inside the house, it’s manageable; outside it’s another story. Shall I start from the beginning?

The Bride and Groom had scheduled a trip and we were all IN to be working grandparents… and granddog parents of course. Then it hit me – a sore throat. Why is it that ever since the pandemic, getting a common cold feels like a death sentence? I tried to keep my distance from the Grands – we ordered pizza for dinner – Bob did the driving – dog walking was passed down to the Bug and the Pumpkin. The problem is, Maple, the black/mix/killer/rescue dog, is on one mission and one mission only: she is single-mindedly determined to

Eat as Many Cicadas in One Walk as She Can Find!

“Ewwww Nana,” my granddaughter said, “she ate two cicadas while they were mating! and I could hear them screaming.” If that’s not a Hitchcock film in the making…

I tried to make light of the Bug’s budding fear of bugs. After all, I’ve picked hundreds of ticks off of dogs and children (and myself) over the years, and they can find some pretty strange places to burrow. I was proud of the baby Bride when we moved back to NJ because she was the only one of her friends who would pick up a daddy longlegs. We were country people, people!

But here we are, living in a semi-genteel southern city that has been attacked by cicadas. Granted they don’t bite, or transmit a horrible disease, still they are dang ugly, and LOUD. Their chorus is around 100 decibels in TN, akin to a Harley only not as nice. We still have our old windows in our new cottage so I can hear them humming all day. It’s like I have chronic tinnitus, with a cold to boot. When I venture outside to water the garden, the trees are shimmering with them and the noise is no joke.

I’ve swept the patio, picked them out of my new patio poufs, and we’ve been in charge of the neighbor’s pool while they are away which means Bob is routinely skimming around 50 dead cicadas every day from their filter. But the last straw was on Sunday when I was swimming with the Grands. I sent Bob home with the kiddos so I could finish my water exercises. I was so deeply grateful to be back in the pool, the water was warm and the sun was shining after a week of rain.

As I was getting out of the pool, feeling the weight of gravity return, a cicada flew right into my right ear!

It was screeching to get out. I was screaming for it to get out and banging the other side of my head. Somehow I knew not to put my finger inside my ear, I guess some medical knowledge does rub off? I grabbed my towel and ran into the street not caring what anyone might think of this wet haired swim suited crazy banshee woman. But in the few minutes it took to run across the street and find Bob, it must have flown out. After a quick investigation with an otoscope, I was pronounced cicada free!

Last night the adult children returned, and now we must pack for our next trip to Italy! I wonder if they have cicadas in Tuscany?

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When was the last time you went to school? Granted, I embarked on a Masters degree in my 40s, but that was awhile ago. In order to flex my fingers, and make something beautiful at the same time, I decided to sign up for a knitting course at our local yarn shop.

I’ve picked up my knitting again after a long lapse of stringing pearls. Knitting is like riding a bike; you can almost always remember how, and today we have YouTube in case we’ve forgotten. Ten years ago I started to make a blanket in columns of patchwork patterns in the most delicious yellow and grey cashmere blend of wool. Today I’m beginning the process to block and finish!

But of course it’s not just the hands-on help you get at a knitting circle, it’s the camaraderie of a small group of women. There is the instructor, regal in bearing and bountiful in her knowledge. There is the know-it-all who knows everything and likes talking about her children. There is the sweet, old grannie with a face like Betty White. There is the younger woman who is determined to save us from climate change. And then there is the Republican, who has picked an incredibly complex project to knit with mohair.

When we introduced ourselves at the beginning, I said I am the slowest knitter alive! My Nana had taught me to knit and now I’m teaching my grandchildren to knit. I said I’m dyslexic when it comes to reading and comprehending knitting patterns, and I’m certainly NOT a Type A tight knitter. If I make a mistake, and who doesn’t, I try to fradreidel my way around it. I can point out the exact spot in my knitting when a certain Frenchie saw a rabbit!

I was knitting for awhile with only two fingers of my right hand sticking out of my splint. The play must gon on.

Yesterday I arrived early for class and met the mom of a 15 year old softball player who makes it her mission to explore yarn shops in every city where her daughter’s games are played. She told me her girl was a gymnast until she broke a few large bones and switched to softball. The mom likes to collect local skeins and I found out she has alpacas back home that her husband and son are caring for while she travels. I asked if she spins their wool, and she said she brings it to a business that will spin and dye it for her.

I thought about how much I wanted to keep alpacas in Virginia, and/or chickens. Bob wasn’t interested, plus it was a very expensive hobby. He was still working and had just taken on the task of ER Director again so I knew he wouldn’t be able to help very much. We were busy defining our new chapter – would we be gentlemen/women animal farmers, or would we be raised bed vegetable farmers? The raised beds won out except when the deer stepped in to clear us out.

But back to class. The conversation around the table is like a roller coaster, one minute everyone’s talking about how to keep critters out of chimneys, then we drift into the practical and ethical implications of making meat out of a chicken cell. And I mastered the mattress stitch after much hair pulling and thread ripping. And so soon, I will send this blanket on its way to become an heirloom. Like the blanker I have stored in my closet that my Nana made around the turn of the last century.

Or the lilac sweater the Flapper made for the Bride with pink bunny rabbits and big fluffy tails. It was an Easter sweater that made me think my Mother thought my Judaism was a passing phase. I cherished that sweater and sent it to my niece in California for her girls, with instructions to pass it down in the family.

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Remind me again why we’re living in one of the hottest, reddest states in the country? OK, it’s not Texas, but we were still sweltering this past weekend. Because of my amazing Drag Queen stylist, and because my daughter was working all weekend and Chase happens to be her hair stylist too, I had committed myself and the Love Bug to the cause. After all, what other grandmother straps on her orthotic sneakers and ties them up in a big rainbow bow to brave the 90+ temps at Nashville’s Pride Festival?

TN prides itself on being one of the most restrictive, ant-gay, anti-choice, MAGA Republican epicenters smack dab in the middle of the south. So when the legislators passed a bill against public Drag Shows where children MIGHT be present, of course Chase hatched a plan. He/She was the chief creator/producer of the Disney Princess Show complete with little dwarfs, a chipped tea cup, lion-kingesque animals and a magic carpet, all played by kids! Take that Gov Lee.

Bob and I picked up the Bug, AKA “The Talent,” early because we wanted to stroll through the Bicentennial Park’s exhibits and pick up some LGBTQ swag. Let me tell you, tens of thousands of people attended, the sun was shining burning, and I noticed a shy teenager standing alone in full color regalia. I surprised her when I walked up and said I absolutely “LOVED her over the knee rainbow socks!” Then I complimented her on her tulle skirt and fairy wings and before you knew it her Dad, a big guy in a grey beard, appeared.

He put his hand on the girl and gave me a look and a nod that said everything….”Thank you for seeing my daughter.”

All in all we spent five hours in the midday heat because surprise surprise, First Lady Jill Biden showed up right before the Bug’s act was to go on. We were backstage with the Queens when we heard the roar of the crowd. No wonder we were searched like crazy before we could enter the park; no wonder there were so many park rangers, metro police, secret service and God knows who all roaming around. Plus the place was entirely fenced off.

Now that I’m thinking about it, what an epic way to keep your citizens in line safe. It’s like calling in royalty – protocol means things will be done, precautions shall be made. And a friend said, “They didn’t want another Vegas shooting.” Thank goodness a federal judge ruled the public Drag Ban unconstitutional, I’d been thinking about what I might do if we were all arrested. Getting arrested for good trouble is high up on my bucket list.

I also thought about my little ballet Bride whirling out from under Mother Ginger’s huge petticoat back in the 80s, and going the wrong way on the Nutcracker’s stage. But the Love Bug hit her mark and delighted one and all. I would say the prettiest Drag Show in the South received a standing ovation, but everyone was standing up to begin with, except me. I had a front row seat.

So enjoy the pix and can you find the Bug?

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i have no idea what i meant by this title. i started earlier in the week, and promptly gave up trying to type with one finger of my left hand. incase you didn’t know, the grand dog pulled the leash because he is extremely prey driven and we are surrounded by cute little rabbits in this neighborhood. i am now the proud owner of three screws in my right ring finger.

the pumpkin wants to know when i can knit again. the bug wants to know when i can cook again. and bob would just like me to stop breaking bones!

my hand surgeon said that my bones are like BALSA WOOD. according to wickipedia, “Balsa is the softest wood ever measured using the Janka hardness test (22 to 167 lbf). … The wood of the living tree has large cells…” i tried keeping a stiff upper lip while deciding not to call him out on the analogy.

if you’ve been keeping track of the tennessee three, so have we; the optimist in me thinks we’re headed toward a tipping point. if you live in nashville please consider linking arms with our whole family on April 18. have i told you that I was talking with the bride’s friend, a pediatrician at our seder? She said the childrens hospital trauma surgeon is still suffering.

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When I was at Camp St Joseph for Girls, I sang “If Ever I Would Leave You” in drag. I was maybe 13 or 14 and the nuns thought nothing of it. Since I was the tallest camper who could carry a tune, I was dressed as Sir Lancelot in Camelot. Is it called drag when girls dress like boys and perform musical comedy hits, like Victor Victoria? What about Shakespeare, where men always played women?

Back in the day, I’ve witnessed many a guy on stage dressed like a Hawaiian Hula dancer. The trope is funny, with coconuts on their hairy chest. Mostly it was the big, brawny football types who felt secure enough in their own masculinity to don womens’ clothes. I’d never even heard of drag until I was in my 30s and we went to a bar in Key West. Our Big Chill group took up a sizable part of the audience and we had tons of fun.

And now here I am in Nashville with a Drag Star Hair Stylist!

Tennessee is the first state in the union to ban public displays of drag to “PROTECT” our children. What exactly are we protecting them from… ? TN Republican legislators say drag is “harmful to minors;”  They called it an “adult cabaret” that would “appeal to a prurient nature.” My hair stylist in his alter ego, aka The Britney Banks, attended one of the protests. He/she held a sign that said

“Trust Politicians PARENTS”

I absolutely cannot trust politicians to keep our children safe. Safe from what, from learning their own history in school?

Safe from what? reading books that may make them uncomfortable?

Have politicians kept our children safe in their schools? Yesterday, I bought three purple Columbine plants for my garden, and every time I say that word, Columbine, I feel that tragedy deep in my bones; when two teenage boys killed 13 students and teachers and wounded more than 20 in 1999.

Politicians however, have voted against enhanced background checks after Sandy Hook, where six adults and 20 CHILDREN were murdered. They did nothing again after Uvalde, where 19 children and 2 teachers were gunned down. Children are simply pawns to be sacrificed on the altar of Republican Greed. If you haven’t heard Jon Stewart parry with Oklahoma Republican State Legislator Nathan Dahm you’re in for a treat: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tCuIxIJBfCY

It’s a bit long – they must go through a series of free speech and 2nd Amendment chaos – but wait till the end. Stewart asks Dahm if it’s true that he doesn’t like drag queens reading to children. Oh my, well of course that’s true. Then Stewart, with righteous indignation in his eyes, asks him why it’s OK to infringe on free speech but not OK to regulate firearms? And Stewart’s trick question is, “DO you know what the leading cause of death is for children?”

It’s not drag queen readings. It’s GUNS!! Yes, now guns surpass motor vehicle collisions, and unlike adults, where the majority of gun deaths are suicides, “…for children, 65% of firearm deaths are homicides and 35% are categorized as suicide.” I guess there is the occasional accidental suicide when a toddler finds mommy’s gun in her purse and shoots himself, but honestly 65% of firearm deaths are murders! And our leaders cannot even reinstate the Assault Weapon Ban?

Why can’t we treat a gun like a car? I used to ride in the front seat with my Daddy Jim. Every time he braked, his arm swung over and pushed me back in my seat. I even did it for awhile with my kids, who used to sprawl all over the back seat to and from the beach with towels and dogs running rampant. Kids are not dying in cars as much anymore because politicians have passed regulations that require parents to take certain measures and buy car seats and not even let them sit in front until they reach a certain height…

Bless Gov Lee’s heart, his priority is not exposing children to Drag Queens, but hey, the more guns the merrier! I wonder when his Christian cohorts will want to end bachelorette parties in Nashville? Or Purim costumes for that matter at a synagogue, where a man recently dressed as Queen Esther. Are we going to infringe on religion? You get my drift. These two know and love my aforementioned hairstylist, and I’m more than OK with that!

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This past Memorial Day weekend we stayed home.

We trimmed back the lilacs, and watched the magnolia start to bloom. Bob painted the front porch. We watered the garden and walked the dogs – Ms Bean and her three cousins next door. We were settling into our new/old house. And best of all, we were on Grandparenting Duty (GD), which is very different from babysitting mind you.

Bob and I are under no obligation to “watch” our grandchildren, in fact we relish spending time with them. Our rising 2nd and 5th graders are curious and helpful. While the Groom started his MICU attending duties, and the Bride worked three days straight, the littles just skipped down the street to our house. Our only mission was to ‘feed and water’ them and have fun; to witness the wild creativity of childhood… again.

On our first neighborhood 4people/4dogs walk, I brought up something I heard the Pumpkin say a few times – “What are we going to do when…..” (insert) “… we get home,” “after lunch,” etc. This question always reminds me of the little animated fawn, Bambi, asking his mama what they were going to do today. Children like to know what’s next, they love ritual, but summer was about to begin. School was out! I started to talk to the Grands about “unstructured time.” The Love Bug was all in, the Pumpkin however, differentiated between things we “have” to do vs things we “want” to do.

I could see my little red headed perpetual motion machine was struggling with the concept of just chillin. But research has shown us that time to explore and create and simply PLAY is essential to a healthy childhood. The Bug said, “It’s kinda like recess!” YES

“It’s like we HAVE to walk the dogs, but we WANT to eat ice cream,” the Pumpkin added.

So I asked him, “What would you like to do today if you could do anything you want?” He stopped walking and looked thoughtfully at his older dog who was preparing to poop.

“I’d like to build something with Pop Bob.”

And so they did – they studied and designed a “Lending Library” for our fence – a place for neighbors to take a book and replace a book. They set up shop in our dilapidated garage surrounded by wood scraps and power tools. I made a note to myself to get a big fan for the garage, temperatures were rising toward 90 degrees. And I tried to stay out of their way, only delivering lemonade once. My heart was melting as I watched them work.

The Bug and I cooked a beautiful barbeque dinner for their parents one night. She cleaned and chopped fruits and vegetables, and we talked about random things like friendship and boys. There was a boy at her end of the year school party who wanted to give her a balloon shaped like a heart. But she didn’t want it, and the balloon flew away. I told her she would break a lot of hearts, and she laughed and said I sound like her Mother.

There are mothers and fathers, grandmothers and grandfathers, brothers and sisters who will never get to have these conversations with their children in Uvalde, TX. They will never get to build something with them, or cook with them, or laugh with them again. I am sending them my heartfelt sympathy and reserving my anger for our legislators; the mostly Republican men and women who have so much blood on their hands.

If we cannot ban assault weapons, change the legal age to buy a gun to 21, and pass background checks and red flag laws with a Democratic President, House, Senate and nearly 80% of the people, then we are surely doomed. We have become a country willing to sacrifice our children for the almighty gun dollar.

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While the drum-up to Christmas and a New Year continues, I thought I’d share my thoughts on filling this school vacation with a little fun. Since the Bride always works on Christmas, and a few days after, and the Groom will be busy in the Medical ICU, Bob and I will be on deck with the Grands. We split our time with the other set of Grandparents who are arriving today.

At first I thought, ‘YAY, now that the children are vaccinated, we can go ice skating/movie watching/golf swinging!’ Or maybe even honky-tonking!

But then my better angel prevailed. I discovered an English website entirely devoted to folklore! And activities that include magic and fairies fall right within my wheelhouse! https://folklorethursday.com/childlore/top-10-fun-folklore-activities-children-grown-ups/

With that in mind, and some local lore thrown in, here are my top seven:

  1. Animal Stories. Look to Aesop’s Fables, or make up an animal story of your own. Get all comfy with some hot chocolate, and read aloud. Follow-up with questions and ask your children to draw the story. We plan on giving our Grands an animal to adopt at the Nashville Zoo, they get to read all about it, follow its adventures, and also receive a stuffed version of said animal. https://www.nashvillezoo.org/adopt
  2. Go For a Hike. You may remember that one year we made a fairy house with Great Grandma Ada. On this stroll, to a park or wilderness area, look for a fairy trail! A clearing with mushrooms (their chairs) may appear; collect feathers which are fairy brooms; and look for cobwebs. Did you know that fairies teach spiders how to sew them? I’ve been known to create dream catchers out of found feathers!
  3. Dig Into Hogwarts. Are your children into Harry Potter? Despite JK Rowlings recent controversy over LGBTQ rights, we plan on taking the kiddos to California next year to visit The Wizarding World of Harry Potter! Their Uncle and Aunt Kiki already have tickets so Omicron better be done. Did you know that the “…screaming mandrakes grown by students at Hogwarts are based on the real-life mandrake plant that has long been associated with medicinal magic?” 
  4. Baking. Create a tradition by baking something that is unique to your family. So not the usual Christmas cookies, unless you have a specialty of course. I have a plan to try baking the Flapper’s “Boiled Cake.” This is a recipe from the Great Depression when yeast, butter and flour were being rationed, so you can also throw in a little history lesson too.
  5. Take a Cruise on the Cumberland River. The showboat General Jackson has midday departures from the Grand Ole Opry to a round of applause! It may be a bit pricey, but the singing and dancing is everything FUN for ages 4 to 94! It’s a “…downhome showband of pickers, fiddlers, and singers will be performing heart-warming versions of Christmas favorites by Reba McEntire, Alan Jackson, Elvis Presley, Rascal Flatts, and more!”  https://generaljackson.com/
  6. Livestream a Magic Show. The Nashville Public Library has an amazing website called Kids Out and About with loads of free things to do with your children and grandchildren. Check out your library and sign up! On December 27 at 2 pm Eastern, WonderPhil will be presenting a magic show. Unfortunately it looks like it’s only through Facebook, but hey, maybe Facebook isn’t so evil after all? https://nashville.kidsoutandabout.com/content/livestream-magic-show
  7. Explain the Calendar. We gave our Littles calendars for one night of Chanukah this year – a Star Wars version for the Pumpkin and an origami desk calendar for the Bug. I heard that a certain little redhead wasn’t sure what it was, so now is a perfect time to dig deeper into customs that appear on calendars. For example, The Winter Solstice is happening tomorrow, that’s a good pagan way to start the day! And what exactly is Boxing Day?

So Merry Christmas to All and may your school vacation be filled with Joy and not too many action/adventure/activities this year. It’s best to relax and rest and keep a little of that lockdown mentality intact for everyone.

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Hallelujah! The Grands got their first jab of the Pfizer vaccine against Covid 19. Sounds like I could write a country song about this day!

“Their daddy piled them in the car, drove for miles to a Walgreens store

Rolled up their sleeves with a great big smile, no tears, all style

They got the Pfizer Vaccine

Gonna help them fight off Covid 19″

Maybe I’ve been living in Nashville too long? But I swear I got all teary when I saw their little red band-aids on their arms. To celebrate, I cooked a big pot of goulash and offered free delivery since the Bride was working all weekend and the Groom was on dad duty. She had made plans for tacos, so we combined our Mexican/Hungarian menu to the delight of all.

Then I read this article about a different kind of immunity. It’s something for your brain that won’t let you end up at the other end of a rabbit hole.

“Here’s the idea: false, baseless, and destructive ideas are mind-parasites. Some are infectious and harm the minds that host them. But minds have defenses — “mental immune systems” — that offer some protection. These are natural systems, and we can study them like we do other natural systems. We can learn how they work and why they sometimes fail. Then, we can apply what we learn to prevent mental immune system breakdowns.

Cognitive immunologists are making strides. We’ve identified the mind’s antibodies. We know the basics of how mental immune systems work. (A healthy mind deploys questions and doubts to ward off problematic ideas; in unhealthy minds, this “mental immune function” is suppressed, misdirected, or hyperactive.)”

https://medium.com/@andynorman/why-arent-we-all-conspiracy-theorists-d14c7ac2b123

My Daddy Jim used to tell me on a drive in the country, that a large field of telephone poles is where they grow telephone poles. And I actually believed him, that phone poles shoot straight up out of the ground in their perfectly round-hewn condition. Because kids believe what their parents say for awhile, like ducking your head in the car when your dad drives under a bridge.

But eventually kids grow up and begin to doubt that a bridge could actually hit your head encased inside a car. They begin to separate their ideas from their parents, along with their music. But not everybody grows up in the same order, some take longer and some never quite get there. If a child grows up in a very strict, ‘my way or the highway’ house, they may never be allowed to wonder or ask questions.

This child may decide that he doesn’t eat Chinese food because he’s not Chinese because that’s what he’s heard in his house. And when another culture is feared or derided all the time, it multiplies xenophobia and hatred.

What if you grow up in a house that learns to make sushi, and doesn’t mind if your nana brings over pizza dogs for a birthday party even though your family has decided to be vegetarian. With some fish. In hindsight, I could have tried to make pizza fish sticks.

Our generation was the last to suffer with polio and measles. I studied deaf children in college, babies who were born deaf because their mothers contracted German measles during their pregnancies. Infants today are automatically vaccinated for Measles, Mumps and Rubella. But technology has helped spread some pretty medieval thinking around vaccine drives and public health with divisive ideologies; many being steeped in Anti-Semitism as I learned on CNN Lisa Ling’s “The Conspiracy Effect.” https://www.latimes.com/entertainment-arts/tv/story/2021-10-06/lisa-ling-cnn-this-is-life-connects-hate-racism-in-american-history

Never, did I EVER expect to wake up this morning to see Big Bird getting cancelled by a Republican who looks like Uncle Fester. That sweet big yellow bird was telling parents and children to get vaccinated, you would think he was Big Brother telling us how to think. When the problem is too many people refuse to think, to analyze, to engage their brain. Too many have done “their own research” on Facebook. A place that will only amplify conspiracy thinking and science denial if it makes them more money.

We are not fighting a culture war with the Republicans. They would like us to define this gap in rational thinking as simply a cultural divide. But it’s not. There is no alternative view of the Holocaust. There are no chips being implanted in arms. Spreading false and misleading information and insisting we debate with them is insane. Our country must recover from a presidency that fed on conspiracy theories like it was manna from heaven.

We are better than that. Instead of spreading lies about children being trafficked, we can spread the word that vaccinations actually save lives. We can take back the conversation, and we must.

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