Wrongfully Judging Icebergs (part 2)

Looking back over the several posts of mine, I realize by now, I have probably offended almost everyone at least once. Whether it is because you drive a big pick up, or let your kids draw on restaurant tables, all of you have probably felt my rants were directed at you at one time or another. I can guarantee you they were never directed at any one person, but I understand how they could've been taken that way.

My arrogance never ceases to amaze me. I find myself thinking I have the ability to accurately judge others when I know very little about them (See previous post about icebergs).

This past Saturday, while in the Tulsa airport, I noticed a young father with a two year old. The two year old was on a leash which I have never liked. I feel like they are demeaning to a child to lead them around like a terrier. I watched with disgust and wondered about things I could say to him if we crossed paths. "Cute boy, what breed is he?", "Aaaah, what tricks can he do?" etc.

As I got close to the gate to enter the plane, I could see there was more to this man's story than I had known. Not only was he traveling alone with a two year old, he also had a baby in a carrier, a carseat for the boy, and a carry on bag to keep them entertained. He looked like a pack mule boarding the plane with all this in tow. Luckily for him, the other passengers were much more caring for a fellow human being than I was. The people around him stepped up and offered to help, grabbing whatever they could to ease his burden. I sat there ashamed of the way I had looked at him only minutes before. As we got off the plane, I carried some of his things in an effort to repent partially for my earlier idiocy.

If I were in his shoes, of course it would have made sense to tether the 2 year old. In case he ran off, there was no way I could've run after him. The father was wise. I was not.

Will I ever learn to just deal with the things I can control and that are part of my life?

Biscuits and Chocolate Gravy

When I was very young, Saturday mornings were always the best! Being the youngest, I was usually the first one awake. After waking up on those chilly winter mornings in the Ozarks, I would stand in front of the stove in the living room in order to raise my core body temperature to a human level. It would be many years later before I had heat in my bedroom, so the stove at the edge of the front room was a thermal treat. I would watch Looney Toons in front of the fire until the rest of the family woke.

I'm sure my mom and dad cooked many things for Saturday breakfast, but the mornings I remembered most were the times they cooked Biscuits and Chocolate Gravy. The biscuits were big and fluffy, browned with a touch of lard on the top. The gravy was hot, sticky, and most of all, chocolatey. There was a method to how I ate the treat. I carefully pulled the biscuits apart, and after putting butter on each half, I poured the gravy over my biscuits and let it drip onto my eggs and sausage. In the days before worries of fat and cholesterol, it was celestial.

More than the flavor of the food, I savored the safety of being with my mom and dad. They didn't always get along during those years, but at breakfast time all seemed ok in my world.

It wasn't until I moved out of state when I was 19, that I realized that the rest of the world had been kept ignorant to the joys of chocolate gravy. Sure they had their cracked wheat, bagels, scones and lattes, but they were naive to the joys of real breakfast foods. I'm sure mom had learned to cook the treat from her mom, and she in turn from hers. Who knows how far back the tradition went. Over the years, the only chance I had to revel in the decadence of chocolate gravy was when I returned home to visit. My children soon anticipated a visit to Grandma's to eat chocolate gravy. Another generation had been converted.

My dad has passed on since those days of Saturday morning bliss. My mom is now battling brain cancer. I called her last night to get the chocolate gravy recipe. Sadly, she couldn't remember it.

That's ok Mom, the memories we associate with Biscuits and Chocolate Gravy will last us (and our kids) a lifetime. Take it easy now. It's your turn to rest, so pass the torch to other generations who will cherish the tradition of Grandma's Chocolate Gravy. We'll be glad to make it for you now.

Even though the recipe we use may be the same, I wonder if it will ever taste as sweet as when you stood at the stove stirring it while Dad was pulling the biscuits from the oven. With those memories instilled in us, I'm sure we can recreate those Saturday morning feelings in our hearts and the tradition will live on for more generations to come.

Thoughts on Parenting

Hello all! Those who know me, know I am on my second round of parenting. Or as I say, Parenting part Deux.

Now that I have some perspective with which to look back, I am convinced I did some of my best parenting before I even had any kids, I had all the answers then. Now I realize I have fewer answers but more questions.

My first four children are all now grown young ladies and one is a great mother to my first grandchild. My second round consists of a spirited nine year old boy (bluesbro).

As I examine my experiences in child rearing, I realize I have formed opinions and have theories unproven. I have began to wonder if some of the parenting I see so prevalent around me actually leads to the greater good for which its intended. For example, there seems to be an unquenchable yearning for parent's to have their kids read earlier, run better, look smarter, and speak clearer than all the other kids. I have become less and less impressed when people tell me their child is in the gifted and talented program at school, or can recite scripture before they are out of diapers.

My first daughter walked at eight months old. I used to love the attention we got because she was toddling around when she should've been crawling. But now that she is grown with a little one of her own, she appears to walk just about like everyone else. I am not sure the fact that she walked early had any benefit later in her life.

As an analytical person, I have wondered if there any studies that show a child who reads earlier, walks sooner, counts higher, is any better off at adulthood than children who do these things in the natural course of learning with their peers. In other words, is a boy that can recite the Gettysburg Address at 8 any better off in life at 28?

Please, don't get me wrong. I do believe we owe it to our children to provide an atmosphere and experiences to be the best they can be. Otherwise, we've sold them short in life.

I think we all realize that bragging about our children is an acceptable part of parenting and is really more about us (the parents) than it is the child. To say, "My Suzy is so smart, they put her ahead a grade!" is really to say, "I am such a good parent" or "I have given her such great genes".

If we listed all the people in life that we admire (whether it be professionally, philosophically, or we think they are just a great person), would it be a list of people who read Shakespeare at 5 and were all A's, or were they more likely good students who got B's and a few C's, yet their childhood was a little more well rounded and they felt safe and loved growing up?

Let me ask you: When you think of your childhood, what memories give you warm feelings. Was it the fact that you were in the top of your fourth grade class on the standardized test? I doubt it.

To what end do we push our children? What life outcome are we hoping for? Will the things we do get them there? Adulthood will come soon enough, but now is their only chance to be a kid.

Icebergs and Judging others

One of my favorite activities in an airport is people-watching. I learned to enjoy this activity as a boy in Arkansas when my parents drove to downtown Russellville (pop 11,750 at the time), parked the car and just sat and watched the people.

In an airport, I look at everyone and think, all of these people started the day at a different house, with different family situations. They all have different challenges in life, different incomes, different attitudes. Yet all these individuals have converged at this unique place at this unique time and this event will never occur again, ever!

Wow! Too deep!

Speaking of too deep...

People are like Icebergs! Scientist say that only about 5-10% of an iceberg is seen above the surface, much like the picture below.

We interact with people everyday (at school, work, church, neighborhood) who we never really know. All we see is the 10% above the surface, but we don't know much about what's underneath: Background, fears, habits, idiosyncrasies.

This line of thinking brings me to the subject of judging others. It's really hard to make an accurate judgement of someone unless you know the other 90% that they are made up of. If we knew the part under the surface, we would have a better understanding of motivation and causation.

Joseph Smith said something like, "If you know a person's intent, then you'll know how to judge them".

Alexander Chase said, "To understand is to forgive, even one's self".

I could probably learn from these statements. Maybe if I understood why men drive big trucks, I wouldn't judge them so harshly. If I knew the back story of why couples let their little girl draw on the table, I might be more understanding. But then again, maybe not.

To be truthful, though, sometimes, I'd rather not know what's under the surface. How about you?

Nerd Attitude

Sorry I haven't posted in a few days, I'm back in Hawaii in meetings and keeping very busy. ("Poor Bluesdad, trying to make us feel bad for him that he's back in Hawaii for the second time in a month, boo-hoo")

Two nights ago, I was coerced into going to a theme party. By nature, I am not a 'dress-up' person. I feel too conspicuous. The theme was 1950's so I bought a bow tie and glasses with tape and went as a nerd.


My costume seemed to be a big hit as I got lots of compliments. One of my co-workers complimented on my costume the next day. I told her that I was a little concerned that I was able to become a good nerd with only two small pieces of wardrobe. She said, "Oh no, the two things helped, but it was all in your attitude." Aside from the two adornments, I had slumped a little and took on countenance reminiscent of Carl from Sling Blade.


Her comments certainly got me thinking. Attitude is not only a big part of who we are, it can often be the defining part of who we are. If we have the attitude of a nerd, we become a nerd. If he have the attitude of a jerk, we become a jerk. If we have the attitude of a compassionate being, we become that compassionate person. If we have the attitude of success, then success can follow.

Much of this blog has been spent lamenting over the lack of common courtesies and social stupidity I see. I wondered how much of what I perceive is because of my own attitudes. Do I go out of my way to be offended? Would I find just as many kind, considerate people, if I had an attitude of looking for them? Its certainly something to think about.

By the way, in my attempt to dress like a nerd, I thought I was dressing up. After all, we've certainly learned since high school that the nerds had it right. We should've been more like them all along.

Air Travel

I was flying home from Portland yesterday (and boy are my arms tired, sorry, I couldn't resist), sitting next to a man who didn't think the rules applied to him. He didn't turn off his cell phone when they told him to, he didn't put up his tray table when the announcement said to. If you've been following my blog, you won't be surprised that I turned to the man and said, "I bet your mama told you that your were special, didn't she?" Well, I really didn't say that, but it got me thinking about some of my pet peeves I haven't shared before; those involving flying.

Earlier in the week, I was up in Montana for a meeting. I really enjoy Montana especially in summer. Whenever I go to Helena (pronounced hel-uh-nuh, not huh-lay-nuh) I always look for that handbasket store I have heard about all my life. No one in the town seems to know about it even though for years I have heard about things going to Helena Handbasket....get it? Hel-in...?Yeah, the people there didn't laugh about it either.

Security is the first place where I get frustrated. I have traveled enough over the years that I think I know the routine; computer out of its bag, shoes off revealing my holy socks, take all metal off, etc. But quite often, the security personnel are taking their jobs waaaaaay too seriously. Just a few weeks ago, in the Honolulu airport, a TSA agent made me go back through the metal detector four different times. Each time I would take a few more things off my person. Finally, out of frustration, I asked her, "have you got a hospital gown for me? If you do, I'll just strip down." This obviously didn't set well with her. I was very luck that this Barney Fife wannabee didn't have a gun or I would've been lying in a pool of my own blood as businessmen and women stepped over me on their way to their flights. She just yelled a little louder and eventually took it out on Bluesmom too, telling her, "stand on the mat, that's what it's for". Even though Bluesmom was just inches away to start with.

I also get frustrated with passengers and cell phones on planes. Invariably on a flight, you'll get someone calling while still on the plane after landing, who things she's talking through a tin can with a string. She'll be yelling into the device loud enough for the rest of the plane to hear and always includes the phrase, "I'm on the plane", like it's a new ability that wasn't available back in Podunk, West Virginia.

Crying babies on planes actually don't bother me. I know they can't help it and they don't understand whats happening. What bothers me are the people around the child who are all put out. What do they expect, that the flight attendant is going to pull out a syringe of horse tranquilizer and put the little one into dreamland. Put up with it folks, I put up with your annoying phone calls and idle conversation about how terrible airlines are.

Although I could go on, talking about flight attendants and their lack of customer service, or airlines overbooking, or being so bored that you re actually like an excited little puppy wagging its tale when the peanuts come around, but I won't. Instead, I'll go back to trying to do a google search for Helena Handbaskets, get it Hel-in-a...oh, never mind.

Answer this question quick! What Color is a Yield Sign?

For a few years now, I've been asking that question to groups I train. I first learned it from a motivational speaker and it got me thinking.

The answer is Red and White, but about 90% of my trainees say yellow even though it hasen't been yellow since 1971. If you were one of those who said red and white (the correct answer), try it out on other people. I'm even surprised how many people born after 1971 still say, "yellow" although it's never been yellow for them.

I think this really gives us a chance to do introspection. How many times do we assume things are going to be the way they are because that is how they've always been.

This same speaker, Brian Biro, says, "The past should not be a predictor of the future, unless it serves you."

Think about your own life. How many times are you guilty of saying things like: I am not good at sports, I always mess up on things, I've always been too shy, I am not a good public speaker.

Just because we've always done something, doesn't mean that the things that caused us to be that way in the first place should still be adhered to. Recently, my sister-in-law accepted an invitation to run in a long distance relay even though she had never run competetively. Her portion was over 17 miles and she did it! Way to go Lisa!

Think about the yield sign. It hasn't been yellow for 37 years yet that is still a part of so many people's paradigm.

Are the things that are holding us back still based in old root causes?