The Example of an Olympian

Every two years, I watch televised sports. I've never watched a Super Bowl - I'm so glad that I can now see all the commercials online the next day - or a World Series. I don't follow Nascar drivers. I am, however, glued to the Olympics.

I'm not sure why that is, but it doesn't really matter. I watch the opening ceremonies, all 3 or 4 hours of them. I watch sports I know nothing about, and may never have heard of. I was delighted when I discovered curling. A sport played with brooms and a stone - how is it that everyone doesn't love this? My family mocks me, but curling is amazing.

Watching the Sochi Olympics, as usual I felt for every competitor who fell, exulted with every competitor who placed. Sure, I love it when Americans take home medals, but I don't need the winners to be American to be glad for them.

There's usually someone local at the Winter Olympics. I live 30 minutes from Lake Tahoe (home of the 1960 Winter Games), and many top athletes still live or train nearby. In 2014, the Lake Tahoe region had more medalists than 68 countries - yes, countries. It's exciting to know that there are locals on the podium.

Here in the Reno/Sparks area, everyone is particularly delighted this year by the gold medal win of David Wise, who grew up here in Reno, skied at local resorts, attended local public schools. He's one of us, and we all seem to claim him. The high school he attended held a schoolwide assembly in order to record and send a message of congratulations. His father was interviewed by the local paper. When I went with my Rotary Club to read to students at an elementary school, I discovered that they have an autographed poster hanging in their office; David Wise attended the school as a child.

Like most of the rest of the country, I found the choice of words by NBC News reporter Skyler Wilder as unusual, to say the least, when Wilder described Wise as living an "alternative lifestyle."

I was actually more and more amused as I read prose like this: "He's not like the rest of the field. Wise is mature." "At such a young age, Wise has the lifestyle of an adult."

That's because Wise is an adult. He's 23. He's five years past the legal age to be considered an adult. He's two years past the higher legal age to buy alcohol (which, ironically, is years past the age at which a person can join the military). It's not as if he's teetering on the cusp; the man has been a full fledged adult for years.

At 23, my daughter was a university graduate, and she took five years, not four, to earn her degree. At 23, my son in law was nearing graduation at the same university, and he'd taken two years off to serve as a full time missionary for our church. At 23, I had a husband, a mortgage and two preschoolers - and no, I was not a teenage bride. I was 20 when I got married and had my first child.

That's what seemed to really amaze NBC's Wilder: David Wise is a husband, father, and churchgoer, who says that he can picture himself being a pastor one day. The way Wilder describes it, you'd think that this was some kind of bizarre lifestyle heard about only in the pages of National Geographic Magazine. This is the ordinary, expected way that people behaved until a generation or two ago. In centuries past, when the average life expectancy was 35, Wise would already be one of the revered elders of his community. People matured fast enough to apprentice to a profession at 3 or 4, marry at 12 or 13, and lead communities by 18, because they had to. Prolonged immaturity was not a desirable or accepted outcome.

Now, though, society has decided that, in order to be an effective, happy, fulfilled adult, you have to have a prolonged adolescence that lasts for decades. What? How does that make any sense? Do we tell kids that in order to be an effective, mature college student, they should postpone learning to tie their shoes, write their name or do simple addition for as long as possible? "You don't want to rush it. Most people aren't ready. You have to figure out who you are first."

Adolescence in the biological sense lasts for about 6 years. Trying to drag it out for decades behaviorally, under the assumption that people can't handle growing up, is ridiculous.

Frequently - bordering on "always" - when I say things like, "I was married with kids at that age," someone replies, "Yes, but most people that age can't handle it," or, "That usually ends badly." When I say, "Let me introduce you to dozens of people, of varying ages, who were ready," I'll hear, "Yes, but more people aren't ready." I will never understand the mindset that says, "The majority is always right, and their ways are always desirable."

I think that the speakers are expecting, at that moment, that I'll say something like, "Oh, gosh, if the majority is doing something different than I am, I'm an anomaly (or wrong or misguided or misinformed or lucky)." What I actually think is, "Well, why aren't they ready? And what are they doing to ensure that they grow up?"

I mean, if you heard that someone wasn't walking, or reading, or driving, or holding a job, far (in fact, years) past the age that they should be mentally and physically capable, do you think, "Everyone else should slow down and do it the same way, instead of trying to achieve," or do you think, "They should get some pretty intensive counseling and intervention in order to catch up"? In theory, a healthy 5 year old who still crawled everywhere would just be exercising prudence, right, taking all those extra years to mature? Maybe he'll fall less often when he does start walking, right?

I'm not talking about perfectly mature people who know that they're ready, but choose, say, not to have children. My own deeply adored brother is childless in his 60s. I'm talking about the prevailing attitude of, "I'm just not mature enough to handle that yet. Maybe in another 10 or 15 years, I'll get there," and the society that says, "Oh, you're so smart to continue to be an adolescent into your 30s." How is it that we feel that people are adult enough to be college grads, nurses, police officers, fire fighters, social workers or members of the armed forces, trusted to make life and death decisions (often for large numbers of strangers), but we don't think they're mature enough to choose a spouse or parent a child? And worse, we're OK with that?

Yes, yes, I know all about studies that say that the human brain isn't done developing until about age 25. I happen to think that that fact proves my point. Is it easier to set attitudes, behaviors and expectations in place while the brain is still growing, or after it's done? I mean, we educate our young precisely so that when adulthood arrives, they'll be ready for it. Why do we assume that postponing maturity and responsibility will increase either characteristic?

I also fight not to roll my eyes when people say, "Well, I've been with my boyfriend/girlfriend for 10 years or so now. We weren't ready for a permanent commitment then, but now, after being exclusive or nearly exclusive, living together, raising kids together, buying a house and waiting to see if the relationship imploded or someone better came along, I'm now prepared to actually commit to getting married some time in the future." Do you not trust your own judgement? Will waiting, or anything else, change the age that you were when you decided to enter into this relationship?

"Well, it's different for you. You were raised that way," people say to me. OK, yes and no. If by "raised" you mean "taught by parents," then no, I wasn't raised that way. My dad was 50 before he got married for the first (last, and only) time. My mother told us all, over and over, that her first marriage ended in divorce because she got married too young, and couldn't see the dangers signs in marrying an alcoholic. If you mean "belong to a religion that strongly encourages marriage and families," then yes, I was raised that way. I joined the church, on my own, at 12.

Here's the thing - if it is widely recognized that it is possible for a family, town, group or culture to raise kids who mature faster than their peers, and do so while living ordinary lives in ordinary neighborhoods, by and large attending local public schools, why do we not widely accept this as a good thing, ask ourselves what they're doing right, and adopt those practices? Why don't we collectively say, "Hey, they're onto something"?

Sometimes, we do. I noticed this Bloomberg News story when it was first published - "Mission Training Grooms Mormons to Pursue Presidency, CEO Suite." The author noticed that LDS young men and women, ages 19 to 21, who went through missionary training and served church missions of 18 months to 2 years, "have gone on to become among the most distinguished and recognizable faces in American business and civic life." Mormons make up about 2% of the population, but "Latter Day Saints hold, or have held, a seemingly disproportionate number of top jobs at major corporations."

Why is that? The article talks about the rigid rules and fairly demanding schedule of work and study that missionaries experience. A Harvard business school professor quoted says, "I don't think there's any more demanding profession than being a Mormon missionary." The result, often, is a fairly young individual with skills, maturity and confidence. One former missionary, now dean of a prestigious School of Business, says that, before his mission, "I frankly didn't know if I could do anything. I came back with the confidence that I could accomplish most hard things."

Isn't this pretty much a no-brainer? If you expect and nurture maturity and responsibility, you will get maturity and responsibility. Instead, society is telling young people, "You can't do it. Don't even try, because you'll fail. It will be humiliating and futile." Is it any wonder that we get the exact opposite of maturity and responsibility?

It is worth noting that David Wise, and many other young successful husbands, wives, parents and employees, are not LDS. It's not exclusive to one school of religious thought. It's a process that's applicable no matter what your belief system. The entire Bloomberg article is geared toward taking the Missionary Training model and applying it to other circumstances.

It's also worth noting that even my own children sometimes disagree with me on this subject. "Come on, Mom! You know what I was like at 19 and 20! Do you really think that I was ready to get married and have kids?" one has asked me frequently. No, Child, I do not think that you, personally, were ready to choose a lifelong partner or start a family. That does not change my belief that high school grads should have a whole world of opportunities open to them, not be limited by their own immaturity. Having options available does not mean that each person needs to do the same things at the same time. It means the freedom to choose what you, personally, want, expecting that you can be successful at it now, not at some indeterminate time in the future.

What kind of message are we sending when we say, implicitly or through suggestion, "If you want to achieve anything, you need to do it before you get married or before you have children. After that, you won't be able to achieve your best or have any significant fun"? It's especially maddening when the people who say this claim to value marriage.

That's the reason people usually give for avoiding grownup choices or responsibilities - the idea that success is unobtainable, that it's impossible. If you get married young, or have children young, the conventional thinking goes, you won't get an education or have career success. The idea that being responsible and capable will somehow cripple you is odd, to me. It makes more sense when I hear things like this, from David Wise: "I think my lifestyle - the fact that I have a little girl to take care of, and a wife - really takes the pressure off of my skiing, because first and foremost, I have to be a good husband and father. When you're out there skiing for something bigger than yourself, it really takes the pressure off for me."

(In an interview with our local paper, his father also credits the work ethic David learned while attending public schools instead of an elite ski academy that may have instilled the idea that being athletically gifted gave you a "pass" in other areas of your life.)

I have, over the years, grown very tired of hearing how rare and gifted (or odd and out of touch) I am, for anything from being married young (and having a successful marriage and family) to not drinking to never having slept around. I've spent most of my life saying, "I'm an ordinary person. I'm not that amazing. If I can do it, other people can do it." I have now decided that this was the wrong approach. I need to say, "You're right. I am incredible and amazing. I am so advanced that I am barely human. I can accomplish things that ordinary mortals cannot. That's exactly why you should listen to me, and do things my way."

Or, don't take my word for it. You could look to the life of a 23 year old Olympic gold medalist.

Thanks, David, and congratulations. Congratulations not only on your athletic achievement, but your focus on what's truly important, what will last after your Olympic career is over. Thanks for bringing good publicity to Reno. Thanks for shining a spotlight on responsible, capable young adults - and the achievement and happiness they can obtain.

Hot Sauce

I love my home state, really, I do. There's reasons that I live here. I'm almost tempted to launch into a list of wonderful things that my state offers, but that's a discussion for another day.

Because, sometimes, my home state is tacky. Truly, undeniably, high ick factor tacky.

I've complained before about people's perception of our state and its... eccentricities. Sometimes, we are our own worst enemy, perceptionwise.

I've complained, for instance, that one of our local brothels - yes, local brothels, let the snickering begin - advertised itself on its billboards as a "deli." Please.

One of the brothels in the southern part of the state advertises itself on its billboards, up for miles before you encounter the place, as a "travel center." Truly.

Most of the brothels in Nevada have small signs out front that say things like, "Free Truck Parking!" The brothels themselves are usually housed in trailers, or collections of trailers, painted some bright colors. My husband glared daggers at me when I pointed out, on a recent trip, the columns (attached to nothing) surrounding the pink trailers. "Don't they just class the place up?" There were shorter columns around the dirt parking area; tres chic.

The "travel center" either ran into too many irate patrons who hauled their cranky kids in looking for restrooms, slushees and prepackaged pastries, or they discovered that they made more money advertising their primary purpose, because they put up this onsite billboard:

OK, truth in advertising; I can get behind that.

The small print just does me in, though: "HOT SAUCE  PHOTOS  SOUVENIRS."

Hot sauce?

Whether that's a euphemism or a condiment, in this context, I don't really want to know anything more about it.

That leaves me contemplating photos.

When I was growing up, the stereotype of sharing your vacation photos was having friends over to dinner, then making them watch an interminable slide show. Now, of course, it's all about social media; everyone you know, and potentially anyone else, can and will see your vacation photos. "This is me and a prostitute I met near Vegas." Maybe Bob in accounting will be impressed when he sees it, but it's hard for me to envision that. The club of People Who Pay For Sexual Services is not an exclusive or prestigious one; in fact, the first people who come to my mind are serial killers and people with few social skills.

Still, maybe ol' Bob really will be impressed. This is the sci fi themed brothel - yes, there is such a thing, you can't make this stuff up; maybe he's always wanted his photo taken with a "real, live Andorian," but he just doesn't have the cash to attend a Star Trek convention. It's hard for me to imagine a situation in which someone will be excited about their prostitute photo op, but I'll concede that maybe, in some circles, such a situation exists. (The thought just depresses me.)

For years, souvenir shops in my lovely state have been awash in prostitution themed souvenirs. I wish I was making this stuff up. You can buy maps of "The Pleasure Spots of Nevada," with all the legal brothels identified. You can get keychains that say things like, "Crib #4, Mustang Ranch." (The term "crib" hearkens back to the days when that term was slang for a prostitute's room. I can't believe that I know this stuff.)

The idea of buying them at an actual brothel is just a little too ridiculous for me. "Went to Nevada! Paid a hooker! Got a snow globe!"

Maybe you walked past Bob in accounting with your new brothel mug in your hand, hoping he'd be green with envy.

Personally, I can't imagine being impressed because you paid someone to be with you. It calls up images of elementary school kids giggling behind the building - "I gave her a dollar, and she let me touch her boob!"

If a woman walked up to you on the street and said, "I want nothing more than to have all manner of sexual contact with you!" I might think that you're attractive or charming. I still won't be impressed, but it's better than, "She had to - I paid for it."

Living here, though, I've been exposed to how the women feel. I remember a local prostitute calling up a radio station to enter their "Most Boring Job" contest. She's not showing your photo around work, bragging about how great her weekend was.

Sorry, Bob.

Keeping Up Appearances

I always wondered why my sister Lynne was so appearance conscious. Our mother wasn't. I wasn't. But Lynne very definitely was.

I have always been a function over form person. I really don't care what something looks like as long as it gets the job done. Like most kids in families of limited means, though, I was also very self conscious about anything that singled me out as poorer than the other kids, so I decided that that was what Lynne was thinking.

I was sure there had to be some environmental cause. I grew up believing that all taste was environmental. I have long since conceded that I was wrong.

My oldest daughter is so much more like Lynne than like me in her desire for impressive outward appearances. Since I was born when Lynne was 11, I didn't get to see her as a baby or toddler. I would watch Lana as a baby, displaying behavior that was totally foreign to me, and think, "Where did that come from?"

When she was only about six months old, Lana began to be stressed out by wrinkles in her crib sheet. Really. I would lay her down, and she would frown at the sheet, then begin making a frustrated noise as she smoothed her hand over the wrinkles, trying to wipe them away. Of course, even when she was successful in smoothing them out, any tiny move on her part would cause new ones. So, she'd start smoothing again, going, "Uh! Uh! Uh!" Thankfully, in fairly short order she would look away or be too tired to keep it up, and she would fall asleep.

She announced when she was barely two that she wanted to start going potty in the bathroom. I was sure she had no idea what that entailed, but after she hounded me for two weeks, I figured, fine. We'll see how this goes. It only took her a week or so to get it down to the point that she was dry all day. I was surprised and she was happy.

What annoyed her tremendously was throwing away the diaper she still wore overnight. After I took them off, I had always rolled up diapers and used the tapes to tape the bundle shut before throwing them away. I think most mothers do. It incensed Lana that she did not know how to roll them up herself and I refused to do them. I wanted her to take the diaper off herself and just throw it away. She hated that. It looked wrong! It was messy! She was totally undeterred by my insistence that it was OK for things to be messy in the garbage can. I wanted her to function independently, but she wanted things to look right.

At age two, she also started stressing out about wrinkles on her socks. You know how your foot is usually extended when you put your sock on, but when you flex it back or stand up, it creases across the front of your ankle? Lana hated that. It drove her crazy every day for literally years. She could not understand why this did not bother me, why I figured it was just OK to walk around in wrinkly socks. She dealt with this by pulling her socks up with great force many, many times a day. That stretched the socks out, sometimes to the point that the fibers were breaking, so now the socks not only wrinkled but sagged. This made her just about frantic. I wondered how many years it would take before she started taking our advice and just leaving them alone. Pointing out to her that our socks also wrinkled across the front did not appease her. To her, that was just proof that we were too clueless to know how socks should look.

In kindergarten she added a new sock worry. Now, it caused her a great deal of distress that the seam across the toes of the sock meant that the front end was more squared off than rounded. She would look at socks after she'd pulled them on and start making the familiar frustrated huffing sounds. "Look at that! They stick out!" she would say, pointing out some tiny protrusion or squaring off on either end of her toes. "They're fine," we'd say. "Socks do that." She became even more frustrated, wondering how her parents could be so utterly clueless.

Again, she dealt with the situation by pulling on her socks. She would grab the offending spots and pull them down under her feet, then carefully slide her feet into her shoes so the "corners" would be held down and out of sight. Naturally, this meant that getting her shoes on could take quite a while. And again, the major effect of this was stretching and pulling the socks out of shape, until the toe seams were two or three times the width of the rest of the sock. This did not actually bother Lana, because the wider the socks, the easier it became to wrap them around her foot.

She stopped being so obsessed with her socks quite so much about the time she started obsessing about the rest of her wardrobe. She had a very clear set of wardrobe dos and don'ts at a very early age.

During her kindergarten year, we bought a pair of ballerina flats that were, I thought, slightly large. They were on sale, though, and too large eventually becomes just right. When she put them on for school one morning, I asked if they fit. She assured me that they did, and I didn't think too much more about it in the morning rush.

When I picked her up that day, Terry and I were walking instead of bringing the car. I don't remember quite why. Even though we lived close to the school, we had to go down one of the busiest streets in town to get there. It wasn't exactly a serene stroll, so we didn't do it often. We set off for home, hampered by the fact that Lana's shoes came off every two or three steps.

At first, I thought it was some form of clumsiness. Then I started looking more closely. Her feet popped out of her shoes literally every step, and once out of every three or so times the shoes would fall all the way off. They were obviously still too big for her.

"Lana! Have your shoes been doing that all day?" I asked.

"Well, yeah," she said. "I tried to fix it." She slid her foot out of the shoe to show me that, across the bottom, she'd folded socks and laid them the length of the shoe to take up some of the extra room. "It didn't work, though."

"So your shoes have been falling off your feet every two or three steps all day today."

"Well, yeah."

"Lana! I asked you this morning if they fit! They obviously don't! Why would you wear shoes that are too big for you?"

She looked at me as if this was a patently stupid question. Then she looked down at her immobile feet. "Look how pretty they are," she said.

She went through a stage of insisting that everything she wore, even her underwear, had to be the same color. She started insisting that her hair be "done" for school when she was about seven. Ponytails were one of her favorite styles until she wore one for picture day in 5th grade. "I look BALD!" she shrieked when we got the photos back. "I look like I don't have any hair at all!" I don't think she ever wore a ponytail again. Dressing for the weather was always a problem; she would plan her wardrobe for days or weeks in advance, and was always thrown when told that she couldn't wear something because of the weather. She was happiest dressing in outfits that came with two pieces, so she was sure that everything "matched."

Coats were a constant struggle. "It's puffy! It makes me look fat!" she'd wail, at the ripe old age of nine and ten. We would insist that she leave the house in a coat in cold weather, knowing full well that she'd ditch it as soon as she was out of our sight. Terry, normally blasé about clothes, followed suit with a coat aversion of her own. It was maddening.

We'd get phone calls from friends, offering us coats for our kids. "They looked so cold walking home from school today," one friend said. When I told her that they both had coats in their backpacks, and that they refused to wear them until they were a block away from home, she thought that I was too embarrassed to admit that we didn't own any. Another friend refused to take my word for it, and simply showed up on our doorstep with hand me down coats for the girls. It wasn't the first, or the last, time we would be given coats. It didn't matter if we bought them or if someone else did, if they were new or used, Lana and Terry refused to wear them except in our presence. That problem wasn't solved until high school when they got letterman jackets. Those, they would wear.

Even into high school, Lana would try to put her clothing into "outfits." She would decide that a particular pair of jeans went with only two T shirts, and refuse to wear the pieces with other garments. We would tell her that jeans, any jeans, went with any of her tops, and she'd look at us as though we were crazy. We'd tell her that black and white went with any other color imaginable, and she'd look horrified. To her, black or white went with black or white.

When she was invited to her first formal, she insisted on extensive jewelry shopping, so she could find jewelry with stones the exact color of her dress. We told her, over and over, that pearls, diamonds, gold and silver would all be appropriate with a formal. She thought we had absolutely the worst taste imaginable. To Lana, you could only wear pearls if your dress had pearls on it; ditto for diamonds, gold or silver.

She was mortified when we couldn't find maroon shoes to go with her maroon dress and garnet jewelry. She was sure that her black shoes would look "stupid," and cause her to be a social outcast. She only wore them because it came down to wearing black shoes or staying home. She came back from the ball amazed: "There were other girls there in maroon, and they wore black shoes. There were girls wearing black shoes with blue and red dresses, too," she marveled. It has never done any good to point out that we knew this beforehand.

She still has trouble dressing for the weather. At college, she's been known to wear her favorite mesh slide shoes in six inches of snow.

While I take reasonable care not to look like a homeless person, I am not particularly "into" clothes. And with my children, the most important thing to me is that they function independently. As long as their clothing is clean and at least close to the right size, I will only veto it if it poses a health or morality issue. I don't care if my kids want to wear orange and purple together.

I once let my youngest daughter go to church in a Snow White dress up dress. When she put it on, I thought briefly about asking her to change. Then, I thought: it's a dress. It's clean. It fits. It's not too revealing. She looks adorable in it. Plus, she's 4 years old. So, she wore it, and actually got quite a few compliments. Life works that way when you're 4.

Poor Lana was always frustrated by my willingness to let her younger siblings dress themselves. She gave up trying to influence Alex too much, theorizing that, as a boy, he'd be hopeless about clothing issues. She would frequently tangle with Terry and Hallie.

Terry, being just a year younger, fared better than Hallie, upon whom Lana felt she could wield greater influence. Lana would try to coax very independent Hallie into clothes Lana had chosen for her. Their arguments would filter out into the hall and occasionally down the stairs.

"Honey, wouldn't you like to wear this shirt with those pants, instead?"

"NO!"

"But sweetie, these would look so much better."

"NO!"

It would finally drive me crazy enough that I'd intervene. "Lana! Go downstairs and let your sister dress herself."

"But Mom! She has no idea what looks good together."

"I don't care. Downstairs."

Poor Lana would sulk away, convinced that no one understood. How had she gotten stuck in a family of stubborn, styleless women, she wondered. And how could I not appreciate her efforts to "help" her sister?

Hallie is a bit older now, and often makes an attempt at matching her clothes. Still, she's young, and her choices don't always make sense to adults. In kindergarten, she wore her velvet dresses as everyday clothes, and chose sweatpants and a T shirt for picture day. Well, OK. It's her photo. She was clean, comfortable and happy.

A year later, she's in first grade and has just performed in her first school music program. She wore a pastel striped sweater under a denim jumper with red and black accents. Again, she was clean, comfortable, happy and even in a dress for a special occasion. She had a great time, and was very proud. We took tons of photos and clapped loudly. I just knew, though, that when I e-mailed Lana a photo at college she would groan and say, "Why did Mom let her wear that?"

Come on, Arizona!

In early 18th century America, you could tell how someone was inclined politically by looking at the words they chose to describe the rumblings of rebellion against Britain here in her 13 North American colonies. Ask someone how they felt on the question of independence, and you favored splitting from Britain. Ask how someone felt about treason, and you favored staying a British citizen. Keep in mind, speaking out against the crown and plotting to overthrow the established government was treason. But, history books are written by the winners, and so we generally laud the revolutionaries as forward thinking freedom fighters.

Much can be accomplished just by simple choice of words. "The Devil's Dictionary" offers this definition for a standard household item: "An implement used chiefly to place dead animals in the mouth." EEEWWW, you say, until you read that the item in question is a fork. I've had restaurant meals with relatives who asked if a dish was vegetarian by saying, "Are there any dead animals in there?" After all, that's what meat is. (Full disclosure: I eat meat, and I do not mind hearing it described as dead animals.)

We often choose our words so that anyone holding an opposing view will sound narrow minded, unreasonable, violent, or any other negative connotation, just like choosing "independence" over "treason." Right now, as I write this in February 2014, the Arizona state legislature has passed a bill that is being described as a "religious freedom" issue. Who can be against religious freedom? Even my non religious, atheist or agnostic loved ones feel strongly about allowing religious freedom. Most Americans do. We have grown up seeing it as important. How could someone be against Arizona SB 1062 and therefore against religious freedom?

Well, here's the problem, from my point of view. The bill is not about religious freedom. It is not about free exercise of religion or conscience. It is specifically aimed at making it legal to exclude people with whom you do not agree, and prevent them from doing business with you.

So, why is that so bad? For instance, I own a photography business. I would not want to photograph a KKK rally. I would flatly turn down any offers to shoot porn (despite the fact that there are buckets of money to be made in porn, and I can think of lots of good, noble and also fun things that I could do with buckets of money). My husband once turned down a request to shoot portraits of a funeral, including portrait-type shots of the deceased, because he was uncomfortable doing so. That should be our right. No one should howl discrimination or file a lawsuit if we turn down their proposed job.

The thing is, it's already legal to turn down work. It happens all the time. Sometimes I'm already booked for that date, or I'll be out of town, my price is beyond their budget or any number of other reasons. Sometimes people turn me down, instead. I'm a writer, but I certainly don't get a "yes" every time I ask if a publication will publish my work. If I needed an attorney, the attorney would get to decide if they wanted to represent me, not the other way around.

You know those signs that hang in virtually every business that say, "We reserve the right to refuse service to anyone"? Those exist for a reason. Maybe you walked into a restaurant with dreadful body odor. Other patrons complain, or just get up and leave. The restaurant owner is within his rights to ask you to leave. He shouldn't even have to give a reason. If he wants you to leave, it's his restaurant, so he has a legal right to kick you out. He does not need a special law that says, "If persons with offensive body odor ("offensive" being defined as noticeable and unpleasant to a reasonable person, or to a majority of persons) come within x number of feet of persons preparing, serving or eating food or beverages of any kind, the business owner may ask said person(s) to vacate the premesis." It is totally unnecessary for the law to be that specific, or for laws addressing each instance in which it would be OK not to serve someone. Bartender thinks you've had too much to drink? He can refuse to serve you. You're not dressed appropriately (either violating the "no shoes, no shirt" clause, or not wearing dress clothing at a high end restaurant)? They can refuse to let you in the door. It's already legal to make those decisions.

Can you imagine the legislative gridlock that would result from trying to spell out every single instance in which it's OK to turn down business? Even assuming that there were no other pressing needs to be addressed (HA HA HA!), it would be exhaustively time consuming, nitpicky and counterproductive. Plus, there would always be some loophole - "Ah ha! The statute says I can't come in wearing snowy galoshes, but it says nothing about muddy ones!" It's just beyond ridiculous.

Business owners reserve the right to refuse you business. Period. It doesn't need spelled out any further.

That's issue 1. Issue 2 is related, but on a different subject.

Remember, this law says that it's about the exercise of religious freedom. Again, such a statute should be unnecessary, because religious freedom is already guaranteed by law. No one can be forced to worship, or to worship in a particular way. No one can be kept from worshipping as they please.

Members of the clergy cannot be told to whom they must provide services, or how. If you go to a particular church or clergy member and ask, for instance, to be baptized, they will decide that based on their church's requirements. The government cannot tell them what those requirements are or should be. The answer may be yes, or no, or "after you fill these requirements," but no one outside the church should have any say in that at all. Opinions, sure, but influence, no.

This, folks, is the essence of religious freedom. With these two provisions - worship, or don't, as you please, and keep non-church interference out of churches - you're set.

I'm assuming that Arizona lawmakers are well intentioned. I assume that about anybody, until they prove me wrong. I have to assume that they're trying to make sure that nobody has to violate their conscience during the course of the work day. Here's the problem: they have explicitly stated that it's OK to refuse someone service because you do not agree with their lifestyle and/or religion. The impetus behind the law was to make it legal to turn down a potential customer if they are gay, and your religion teaches that homosexuality is wrong.

What?

In well over two decades of taking photos professionally, I have never asked a client about their sex life, ever. My religion teaches that premarital and extramarital sexual relations are wrong, but I have never, ever asked a couple hiring me for a wedding if they're having sex. I have never asked someone who wants a portrait whether or not they are an adulterer. EVER. Do you know why? Because it's none of my business.

We, as a society, have lost all sense that there are things that are none of our business.

If I were a member of the clergy, and a couple asked me to marry them, I'd have a right to ask about things that do not affect the wedding vendors. I might well ask about their sex lives. But I'm the photographer. I don't need to know! Neither does the caterer, the florist, the band or DJ, the dress shop, the servers, the limo driver or anyone else they've hired. Their sex life is between them, God, and occasionally, their clergy. If I am not any of those people, I don't need to know. Don't ask me to photograph your sex life, and we'll get along fine.

"But how can you work with people whose lifestyle you find offensive?" people ask. "Isn't that violating your moral code?" Setting myself up as judge violates my moral code.

Not only do I not believe in premarital or extramarital sex, I believe that alcohol and tobacco use is wrong. I believe that gambling is wrong. I believe that lying is wrong. I believe that cheating on your taxes is wrong. As a religious person, I do not think that civil authority carries the same weight as religious authority; therefore, I do not view civil marriage in the same light as I view a religious ceremony. I also believe that proper religious authority is available only in my church.

Yet, I have photographed civil weddings, weddings for people of other faiths, weddings for couples who live together (and even who have children together), weddings for homosexuals. Although I'm not privy to details, I'll bet I've taken photos for adulterers. At many, many events I work, there is alcohol served and tobacco consumed. I'll bet that I've photographed gamblers, liars, cheats, and other less than sterling types.

I did my best work for all of them.

I cannot, simply cannot, imagine a mindset that says, "I should only deal with those who belong to my faith and are living it to a degree that I find acceptable." It is not my job to shun huge swaths of society.

A friend of mine owns a computer consulting firm. She's Buddhist. If someone wanted her to design a website for a butcher shop, or a terrorist organization, I would not be surprised if she turned them down. Yet I will venture to say that she has never turned down a client because they were Christian, or Jewish, or ate meat. I'm very sure that she doesn't even ask. She's undoubtedly done work for restaurants that serve meat. I'm pretty sure that if a parochial school or church congregation wanted her to design a website, or troubleshoot their machines, or any other work, she'd do it and do it well. That's what being a reasonable human being looks like.

We have family in Arizona. Right now, under Arizona's law, my daughter could have a restaurant refuse to serve her because she's Mormon and the owner (or hostess or server) thinks that the Mormon Church is a cult. Is that what we want in America?

Once upon a time in America, it was legal to kill someone, just because they were Mormon. Governor Boggs of Missouri decided, under pressure from angry citizens, that Mormons were a threat to the peace and security of the community. In 1838, Boggs issued Executive Order 44, which stated, "the Mormons must be treated as enemies, and must be exterminated or driven from the State if necessary for the public peace—their outrages are beyond all description."

The law remained on the books until 1976, when it was formally pronounced unconstitutional. I remember hearing, as a young person, about a Missouri man who murdered his neighbor and plead not guilty, on the grounds that his neighbor was Mormon, and the law was still on the books.

"How did the citizens tolerate Hitler's laws?" we ask; this is how. He said that the laws were protection, for the good of society - and besides, they won't hurt YOU, Average Citizen. They'll hurt other people, people who deserve it.

It doesn't matter if it hurts you.

My niece lives in Arizona, and could be grilled about her sex life if she went to buy a sofa, or a car, or a sandwich. Do you want to be asked who you're sleeping with before you can take home merchandise? Do you really need to account to a sandwich shop employee? (Do you need to ask about their sex life? What if they're an adulterer or polygamist or into something icky with animals - how could they possibly assemble your sandwich?) How is it that the Arizona legislature thinks it's OK for businesses to even ask who, if anyone, my niece is intimate with?

When I go to visit my family, I don't want to be turned away from a museum because I'm Christian and the owner is Hindu.

A woman in a headscarf or a man in a turban could be legally denied virtually any service under Arizona's new law, if the business owner were Christian and felt affronted by those who are not.

Religious freedom does not mean refusing to deal with those who are different from ourselves. Calling this bill a "religious freedom" issue does not make it a good idea.

I do not want to talk to total strangers about my worship or my sex life before I can make a purchase. I do not want to ask them about theirs before they hire me. No one should have to answer those questions in order to conduct business. That's religious freedom.

Completely Normal

A family member and I were recently discussing our shared reaction to people who excuse unhealthy or toxic relationships by saying, "But we really love each other!" She and I disagree on many things, but on this she said, "We are so totally on the same page. All that I can ever think to say to that is, 'So?' or 'And...?'" Yet so many people deliver the "but we love each other" statement as though it is their trump card, their "get out of jail free" card. After all, what could someone possibly say or do that could defeat their love?

Defeat it, no; that's in their own hands. Dismiss or disregard it - yes, indeed. Volumes can and have been written about the thousands of factors that are vastly more important. Yes, more important than whether you love someone. There are those who think that this sounds like heresy. Yet, what would you say to a teen whose boyfriend beats her or threatens her with a knife? A wife whose husband sells her sexual "services" without her consent? To a child whose parent starves them or locks them in a closet? Maybe you're physically safe, but your partner belittles and mocks the majority of what you say and do, or controls all of the money or makes all of the decisions. Maybe all of those people truly love the one harming them; does that make it OK?

Another one of those trump card statements that people pull out as though it is the last and final word is, "But it's perfectly natural" or, "It's totally normal." Again, I find myself thinking and saying, "So? And...?"

Let's think about bodily waste for a moment. Your body - the body of any living thing - is designed to rid itself of waste. This is not only normal, natural, and determined by biology and therefore nonnegotiable, it's beneficial. If your body can't eliminate waste, it dies. People spend time hooked up to dialysis machines when their body's ability to filter and excrete waste breaks down precisely because without medical intervention, they will die.

Now let's think about babies. When they're tiny, their bodies excrete waste whenever it's done processing it, no matter where the baby is or what else is going on. We put them in special garments to contain the mess, and clean them repeatedly through the day. We are clear on the fact that this is necessary.

Before those children can consistently feed themselves, bathe themselves, dress themselves, brush their own teeth or communicate in complete sentences, we expect them to start regulating that waste removal process. We expect them to wait until a more appropriate time and place to pass their waste. We take away the special garments. We direct them to the rooms and fixtures set up specifically to handle waste. We make it clear that we expect them to wait for the appropriate time and place even when it's inconvenient or uncomfortable, even if they're tired, even if they don't want to.

Most children are not happy about this. It confuses them. It upsets and angers them. Why can't they keep doing it the way they've always done it? It was so much easier for them! And their parents never cared before - why do they care now? Sometimes it's so hard to wait! Sometimes they don't want to stop what they're doing; they want to wait until later. Why can't they? It's so mean of their parents to expect this and then be upset if the child does it the way they always have!

Keep in mind, they're not doing anything "bad." Their bodies must eliminate this waste. It's biology. It's necessary! And yet the adults want to put rules on it. It seems so unfair. Yet every adult will insist on this. Every child, except the extremely physically infirm, will leave diapers behind and learn to use a toilet, even when it's inconvenient or uncomfortable. How would we feel about an able bodied teen or an adult who wore diapers just because they wanted to avoid the inconvenience of toilets, and do it the way they did when they were born, the way all other living creatures do it, whenever and wherever the urge strikes - the natural way?

While they're still small, and increasingly as they get older, we expect more compliance. You will wear clothes when you leave the house. You'll be quiet sometimes when you don't want to be, because it's convenient for others. Many times when you're young, your parents will insist on things that you don't want, understand or agree with. But, the older you get, the more you will start to practice actual self control.

You will start to realize that there's reasons behind the controls you're asked to impose on yourself. You realize that, even though food is necessary to sustain life, that does not mean that you can eat whatever you want, whenever you want, in whatever quantities that you want. You become aware that, even if you're sincerely hungry, that doesn't mean that anything goes. Hunger is normal, eating is normal - in fact, essential - but there should be limits. We'd all love to eat anything we wanted - that feeling is totally normal - but we don't.

Even if you're not religious, think about those "seven deadly sins." Take sloth. How long would you last at your job if you didn't show up any time you'd had a bad night with little sleep? You're sincerely tired, maybe through no fault of your own (kept awake by a child, illness, noisy neighbors); your work may well be compromised. It's completely normal to want to roll over and go back to sleep - we've all been there - but you know that you have to show up. You know, too, that you don't get to pick and choose tasks. You can't say, "I'm only going to do things that I enjoy doing," at work or at home.

How about wrath? We're all clear on the fact that anger, no matter how justified, also cannot be simply set loose. You shouldn't engage in vigilante justice, revenge killings, drive by shootings, beatings. Even if your child or spouse or boss has done something infuriating, there are correct and incorrect ways to respond, and it's up to you to choose correctly. Even if someone has been fired, or killed, or hit by a car, or raped, or mugged, or deceived, or cheated, or anything else, that does not remove the controls you should put on yourself. We all know this. Those feelings are normal, but we control them.

We know, too, that it's not just actions, but words that we need to control. Just because something occurs to us, or is true, or would get a laugh, or is justified does not mean that we should say it. Irreparable harm can come from a totally unbridled mouth. From the time we're very small, we expect others to watch their words, and we learn to watch our own, through painful trial and error.

Greed is a little trickier, because society tends to applaud the pursuit of money, goods and status as being "ambitious" and good. We're all born greedy. Still, what if someone said to you, "I've been like this ever since I can remember. I remember being in diapers and not being happy unless I could take toys from the other children. I didn't want the toy; I just didn't want them to have it. I've never been happy unless I had more than the next guy. I'm always trying to figure out how to end up on top, how to charge more without delivering more. I try to stop, but it just sneaks in. Besides, it doesn't hurt anybody; I mean, anybody smart. If I can take advantage of someone, it's because they're not very smart. This is just how I am. I think it would be denying my true nature, not to mention futile, to try to be something I'm not." This is how we end up with the Bernie Madoffs of the world, not to mention every ruler or royal who ever funded a lavish lifestyle at the expense of the citizens that they govern. Most of us can still agree that this behavior, while natural and understandable, is wrong.

Violence, murder, spitefulness, taking unfair advantage, oppression, selfishness, bullying - the list of natural human traits, behavior that has persisted since the dawn of time, is huge. Yet we all seem to agree that these qualities should not be fed or embraced.

Let's go back to that recently toilet trained child to look at envy. Just about the same time that Mom and Dad have imposed all kinds of new rules and requirements - use the toilet, eat with silverware, say please, wait your turn - they also bring home a new baby. The baby does nothing but lie there, scream, eat and create messy diapers, but Mom and Dad just LOVE the new baby. So does everyone else. It's not fair! Why isn't anyone telling Preschooler how adorable they are just because they exist? Why does Preschooler have to wait for dinner, without even a snack, but the baby gets to eat every time it screams? Why is Dad's lap always full of the baby? Why does Preschooler have to use the toilet and sleep alone, but Baby doesn't?

It is completely normal that Preschooler will resent the baby. It is normal that they might want to hurt the baby, or that they will beg Mom and Dad to "send it back."  Almost every child in history has felt this way, and those born in the future will, as well. Yet, every adult knows, Preschooler cannot be allowed to act on those feelings; nor will Mom and Dad give in to the pleading, no matter how angry, outraged or unloved Preschooler feels because of their refusal.

(Many times, I picture the relationship God has with humanity looking a lot like the relationship parents have with small children. There are so many stupid rules, and they make no sense! Things would be so much better if we could just do it our way! How can God possibly know something that we don't? We're smart! He must not love us. He must be mean. If we could only do it our way, everything would be great, because doing it His way is stupid.)

Few things are as tedious as someone who never grows out of this sibling envy stage. Feelings that are totally understandable and justifiable when you're 3 or 4 look ridiculous on you when you're 15 or 16. Get to be 20 or 30 and still whine about, "Why are Mom and Dad so excited about Sister's promotion? They didn't say anything when I was promoted last year!" and I not only find you to be tedious and silly, but I tend to discount my assessment of your judgment and general maturity.

For some reason, we collectively tend to lose our minds a little bit when it comes to our sex lives, though. Too many of us seem to have no perspective.

There's those who find sex acts of any kind to be immoral, wrong, tawdry, indicative of lack of morals or character. That's silly. Whether you believe in God or not, the idea that the only way to perpetuate the species would be something wrong and forbidden, something we should not engage in, flies in the face of reason. This is why I don't agree with the idea that those who truly devote themselves to God and His purposes, or enlightenment in general, will be lifelong celibates. That's like saying that if we as a species truly devote ourselves either to God or to higher consciousness, the race will die out in a single generation.

Once when I said that to someone, they said, "That's because everyone isn't supposed to devote themselves to God. Only a few people will ever be asked to do that." That still seems silly to me. Maybe it's because I belong to a religion with no paid clergy. All adult members are expected to take their turn in leadership roles, without pay, throughout their lives. Even if this were not the case, the idea that the most spiritual, most dedicated of us should not have or raise children seems very odd.

Then there's the opposite extreme, people who promote promiscuity because "it's normal!" They find the mere idea that humans should be selective about their mating to be ridiculous and doomed. We're hardwired to mate with a large assortment of partners in order to guarantee numerous and healthy offspring, they say. It's millenia of evolution at work, and you can't fight it without facing futility and frustration. Why try? I don't buy this reasoning with regard to porn, either; don't tell me how it's existed throughout history. So has slavery, premeditated murder, con artists... you get the idea.

I'm always annoyed by promiscuous or straying men (or women) who become indignant when their partners leave them. They're just doing what comes naturally! It's normal! What is she so upset about?

"She knew what I was like before we got married," he might say. A man who thinks this way is ignoring two things. One: women are programmed to expect that, when they meet "the one," he will leave his tomcatting ways behind because of his love for her. Look through our culture's books and movies if you think I'm making that up. Two: very, very rarely have these men ever explicitly said, "I do not intend to be faithful." If they have, yeah, they can be annoyed if their partners get upset. If they're just functioning on the "she should know, because it's common knowledge" theory, they're not being honest with their partners or themselves, and they're behaving stupidly. Cards on the table, folks, always.

If monogamy is not important to you, only date or marry people who do not value monogamy. Or, resign yourself to living in a way that you find unnatural, because it's best for the relationship. No whining about what's "normal" or "natural."

It's a radical thought, based on the reactions I've seen, to believe, as I do, that sexual behavior is to be encouraged and enjoyed, even applauded, but only with one's spouse. There are those who don't bat an eye at people who have sex exclusively with stuffed animals, or with food, but find me to be bizarre. I find that reaction amusing.

Don't point out animal behavior to me in defense of yourself, either. You are not any of the species to which you are referring. We've all grown up watching dogs try to mate with human legs, furniture or toys. I do not feel that I, myself, need to say, "Well, if they've been doing it for centuries, it's normal behavior. I think I'm going to start mounting furniture, and claim that others are squeamish, prudish, anti sex, anti pleasure and repressive if they don't like it." I'm not going to start humping my husband's leg because schnauzers do it.

Personally, I have no quarrel with those who say that homosexuality is natural (as in, ocurring throughout time and across species). Still, from an evolutionary standpoint, it does not perpetuate the species or contribute to survival of the fittest by passing on genes. From a traditional Judeo-Christian religious view, it's scripturally condemned. Neither of those things are affected by whether it's natural.

I frequently face people who tell me that it's just wrong, repressive, manipulative, unenlightened and any other negative thing you can think of to go against, try to change or try to mitigate something natural, normal or inborn. I just don't get it. Aside from all those behavioral examples I just went through, how about physical things, things people are born with? Have you ever cut your hair? Do you trim your nails? Do you bathe? Do you wear clothing? Then you've tampered with the natural order. You've decided that the way your body is naturally is not necessarily desirable.

Do you wear makeup? Have you ever had braces on your teeth? Colored your hair? Then you're altering the way God or nature made you.

If your child was born with cleft palate or club foot, would you choose to have it fixed? If you are a Christian Scientist, or otherwise do not believe in any medical intervention, believing whatever happens to be God's will, I'll understand if you lecture me on not tampering with God's will (or Mother Nature or whatever other force you believe is most important). If you're an average person, and OK with tooth brushing, filling cavities, setting broken bones, taking antibiotics, using crutches and curling or braiding hair, I'm not really going to understand where you're coming from.

I've had pretty extensive surgery in the last two years, first to remove a diseased thyroid gland, and then to rebuild the bone structure in my feet. No one told me that since God made me, I was just perfect as I was, and I should simply embrace my bunions and collapsed arches. No one said that it was morally wrong, and setting myself up as a judge, to remove my thyroid. I didn't get lectures on the natural order of things when I had my tonsils out, or when I got glasses. No one said, "You don't need those! You are perfect just the way you are, and you should be proud of your astigmatism!" To the contrary, most people ask me why I don't switch to contacts or get lasik surgery.

ADD, ADHD, diabetes, hypoglycemia, depression, schizophrenia, bi-polar disorder, autism and more are all caused by body chemistry and determined, to a large extent, by your genetics. Nobody ever says, "Well, God wouldn't have put the voices in your head if you weren't supposed to heed them." We find it anywhere from unwise to criminal for someone to say that they will not address or treat any of these conditions in any way, or that they are God's will, or to say that humans shouldn't tamper with nature.

Given all that, I am beyond puzzled when anyone says, as someone did to me recently, during a disagreement about acceptable behavior, "Scientists have identified the gene/brain chemistry/etc that causes that!" as though I will immediately say, "Well, that settles it, then. If there's a physical cause, it must be desirable."

It's OK if we disagree about some of these things, or, heck, even if we disagree on everything. Each of us will one day have to account to God for what we do, but you don't answer to me and I don't answer to you. If you don't believe in God or in a Judgement Day, there's even less reason for us to be involved in each other's beliefs and choices, since our concern for each other's happiness will not affect eternal life. Just please understand that telling me how normal or natural something is not only does not end an argument, it doesn't even advance it. It's a non-issue.

All I'll be thinking is, "So?" Or maybe, "And...?"

Praiseworthy

Someone posted an article recently about the latest Young Adult in Hollywood Behaving Badly, and a friend of mine commented with a sentiment that I've heard many times before - "There aren't enough adults in (his/her) life saying no."

We all know this - we recognize it to be true. Give a young person fame, money and few boundaries, and chances are, it will turn out badly. Very few people can handle that kind of constant indulgence without turning into a self involved jerk with no reasonable decision making skills.

Sometimes, though, we seem to feel that it's about the money and fame more than it is about the lack of boundaries. "You've got to support your kids," people say, when what they mean is, "I'm afraid to tell my kid 'no.'" We worry so much about our kids' self esteem, and obsess that we might hurt their feelings or squash their dreams, that we find ourselves unable to set boundaries.

I know people who are just terrified to think that their children will ever be upset, hurt or disappointed in any way. While I adore my kids, and it pains me when they hurt, I have never thought that they are, or should be, exempt from the human condition. It is not my job to tell them that everything they think and do is amazing, or even correct.

My mother, and any parent of her generation or before, would have laughed herself silly if someone told her that her that her job, as a parent, was to make her kids happy. My mother was not perfect, believe me, but you criticize her parenting at your peril.

Mom was a very sensible, logical person. She was not stingy with praise, but it was always earned and matter of fact. If she said, "You worked hard on that project; you deserved an A," she said it the same way she said, "It's time for dinner," or, "You have a dentist's appointment on Tuesday." It was simply a fact.

That was also how she delivered criticism. "You can do better," "You made a mess; now clean it up" or "That's not going to work" were also delivered as a fact, not a value judgment. She knew when I'd thrown an assignment together, even if I got an A on it. Then, she neither praised or discounted the result, just observed, correctly, "Well, (that subject) has always been easy for you." Sometimes, I was annoying, disrespectful, lazy, unorganized, neglectful, hostile or any number of other "negative" things. She never hesitated to call me (or my siblings) on it, but I never, ever felt that she didn't love me because she was angry or disappointed. I also never felt that she loved me more when I was easy to parent - obedient, helpful, focused on my schoolwork. Her response to any action on my part depended on the action. Her love for me - for anyone - was entirely separate from behavior.

She did not gush over my every effort, no matter how tiny, assuring me that I was so much smarter, more talented, more worthy than other people. She also never put me down and made me believe that I'd never be good enough, no matter what I did.

At church, they told us that we were all children of God, and therefore, special. So, I felt special; but, I recognized that everyone else was special, too.

I never really thought that the balance of praise to criticism, "yes" to "no," was that hard. For one thing, Mom made everything she did look effortless. For another thing, the fact of the matter was what was important. If she'd told me that my crayon scribble was better than Picasso and it deserved to hang in a museum, that didn't mean that someone was going to come pay me millions for it and put it on display. If she'd told me that my "A" schoolwork was worthless, and that a chimpanzee could do better, it wouldn't suddenly change my correct answers to incorrect ones. Luckily, I never had to look for hidden meaning. If she pointed out that my room was a mess, it was a mess. If she said that my grandmother really appreciated the letter I'd sent, then Grandma was glad to get the letter. Simple.

Watching other people, though, it doesn't appear to be that simple. I see parents who feel that their child is never in the wrong, ever. Did the child get a citation for fighting at school? The other child involved is clearly in the wrong, and their angel was only trying to avoid being a victim. Did the child fail a test? The teacher didn't teach the material correctly. They didn't get the position they wanted on the sports team, or the solo they wanted in the chorus? It's because the coach or director doesn't like them, and favors another kid. These parents never ask their child to sit down and be still, to say please or thank you, to have a bedtime or to wait their turn, because the child doesn't like to. It causes the child to be unhappy, and that must be avoided at all costs!

Then there's the other end of the spectrum. I know (otherwise reasonable) people who believe that any praise is bad. It will cause the child to "get a big head." Compliments of any kind are also bad. They also believe that pointing out strengths, or things the child does well, are immaterial, and will prevent any improvement. In order to improve, the child must focus exclusively on what they do wrong. If you do ever pry a compliment out of them, it always has a "but" attached - "That was good, but it could be better." This is being "helpful," they're sure.

Both philosophies are well intentioned, but I believe that both are wrong. Balance is necessary.

The best Little League coach that my son ever had was the one who recognized each player's strengths and weaknesses, and tailored his praise and correction accordingly.

I try to do the same with the speech and debate team that I coach. I would never say to the kids who compete in the impromptu and extemporaneous events, "That's just lazy. You could memorize a piece if you wanted to. Why don't you do one of the events that takes actual preparation instead of taking the easy way out?" I would also never say to the kids who do events that require writing a piece, memorizing a piece, or both, "Anyone can do a decent job if half the work is done for them, and the piece is already written. Anybody can remember something they wrote themselves. Why don't you do something that's actually a challenge, and makes you use your brain on the spot? Are you too stupid to speak off the top of your head?" Each kid needs to figure out what they, personally, are good at, then do that thing. That may be the same thing their teammates are good at, or something vastly different.

I praise them when they do a good job, or even make an effort, and let them face the consequences when they don't do a good job. I've let my own kids walk into competition unprepared, knowing that they'll score badly (or completely crash and burn), because it's not my job to make sure that they never fail. It's my job to provide them with information and opportunity, and then let them learn. What cause equals what effect?

I have always tried to follow my mom's example and keep the same balance with my kids. I try to keep it very factual. Sometimes, they do a great job. Sometimes, they don't. I let them know that sometimes they'll win, and sometimes they'll lose. That's not a reflection on them, personally; it's how life works.

Anyone who's a parent, though, knows that children are not miniature adults, with fully formed reasoning capacity. They are irrational beings. They have no sense of scale - how big or small a problem is - and have undeveloped coping skills. Their brains are not done forming, even if they're intelligent.

My middle daughter has loved her persecution complex for her entire life. She clings to it like a life preserver in a stormy sea. When she was a child, good heavens, she spent most of her time simultaneously angry and depressed. In other words, she was a stereotypical adolescent.

She was about 14 when she informed me, sulkily, "You're always telling the baby, 'Good job!' You never say 'Good job' to me."

This was not the time to point out that when I did praise her - and it happened frequently - she would tell me, vehemently, why I was wrong. After a band concert, for instance, I'd tell her what a good job she did, and she'd snort in derision. "I screwed up the (musical term I don't understand)! I played the wrong note at least six times!"

I would say, "A performance is not measured by whether or not it's perfect. Professional musicians still make mistakes. A performance is measured by whether or not the audience enjoyed it, and they did."

"No, they didn't!" (Her knee-jerk response, the entire time she was growing up, was to disagree.) "Nobody liked it! They're only here because they have to be. Their kids are playing." She "corrected" me if I complimented her appearance ("I look stupid!"), schoolwork ("I didn't even try hard"), attitude ("Big deal"), helpfulness ("You make me do this stuff") or anything else. This is the child who informed me (repeatedly), "I'm obviously not as smart as you think I am."

Instead of pointing out how often I complimented her and was told that I'm wrong, I pointed out another obvious truth. "Just today, I said to the baby, 'You put your shirt on all by yourself! That's great!' The days when I would say that to you are long gone. No one will ever again say such a thing to you until you're 90 years old and in a nursing home. If you want me to say 'Good job,' you have to actually do a good job at something."

This is why humans do not have magical powers. If she could have reduced me to a pile of ashes right there on the spot, she would have.

When they were younger, my older two children complained bitterly when we made them clean up after themselves at fast food restaurants. They had to pick up anything they dropped, throw away their trash, wipe up spills and put away the tray. They both found this to be victimization of the highest order, and a clear violation of child labor laws. The complaints were loud and frequent. "Why do we have to clean up? Everybody else gets to just leave their stuff. It's not fair. They pay people to do this. This takes forever (a perennial favorite, no matter the job or how long it actually took). Why don't other people have to clean up their own mess, but we do?"

(Answer: "Because it's the right thing to do." This was not met with enthusiasm.)  The caterwauling reached a crescendo if we ever had them pick up a stray piece of trash along with their own.

When she was 16, my oldest went to work at a fast food restaurant. Almost from the first day, she came home complaining about people who didn't pick up their own messes. "People are pigs!" She resented having to do her regular duties and clean up after sloppy and lazy patrons. (I don't blame her.) She was especially scathing about parents who watched their kid(s) make a mess, then just got up and walked out.

I kept waiting for the mental light bulb to go on, and for her to make the connection, but it didn't seem to be happening. After 2 or 3 weeks, she was still complaining when we made her clean her own mess, as well as complaining about people who didn't pick up after themselves. All she had internalized at that point was, "I have to clean up whether I'm the customer or the employee. It's not fair!"

Then one day, she came home especially furious. A frequent customer had come in with his child, whom she described as "obnoxious" and "a filthy pig." Apparently he made considerable messes, and just walked away from it every time. "No one's ever going to want to be around that kid! No one's ever going to want to date him, or even be his friend."

Time to point out the obvious. "Now do you see why your dad and I always make you clean up your own mess? We don't want you to be one of those obnoxious people that nobody likes."

I swear to you, I actually watched the synapses fire in her brain while she finally connected the two thoughts, and her eyes grew wide. It was obviously the first time that this had occurred to her, yet she could see the truth of it. What decent parent wanted other people to feel that way about their child(ren)?

I don't think that we ever again heard "It's not fair!" complaints about having to pick up her own trash. My younger kids have done less complaining than the older ones because the older ones not only provide a good example, they're the first to let the younger ones know what's OK. "Pick that up! Nobody else needs to clean up your mess!"

In fact, one of the joys of this stage of my life is being around my adult children who are delightful, considerate people. "I used to be so jealous of those kids who got away with anything," my middle daughter said to me. "Then I got older and realized, those people are just obnoxious to be around. Nobody likes them."

It was never my job to have children who were happy every moment. It was my job to create functional adults. To a point, I agree with people who say, "We need to build up our kids, before the world tries to tear them down," but I sometimes disagree with the ideas others have about how that's done. I don't think that you "build up" a person by constantly telling them that everything they do is right and praiseworthy and good. You build them up by giving them the actual skills they need in order to function independently, competently and happily. You teach them how to work, how to cope with frustration, how to hear and respect the word "no," how to practice self control and how to consider the feelings of others as important. Those qualities are what will lead to them being happy. They won't be happy if they expect to always get their way and hear how amazing they are, no matter what they do. No matter who you are, those are unrealistic expectations.

I am not a perfect person or perfect parent. My kids are not perfect. Still, three out of my four kids are adults now, and if I do say so, they've turned out to be pretty great. So, yeah, I feel qualified to hold opinions on what's a good idea and what's not.

Young Hollywood: talent does not excuse rudeness. Everything you do, or consider doing, is not OK, funny, amazing or even justifiable. Sales of albums or movie tickets or mentions in the press do not equate to your worth as a human being. People around you, especially the ones telling you that you can do no wrong, are not "supporting" or helping you. Often, they're actually keeping you from reaching your potential. There's a reason for the term "spoiled rotten."

Those boring, outdated, out of touch people who tell you to knock it off, to tone it down, to dial it back - they're onto something. You might want to listen.

But only if you want to be actually happy instead of just indulged.

Handicapped Access

I had surgery on my foot, involving bone saws and screws, on November 29. "It's a 4 to 6 week recovery period," the surgeon said.

Of course, my bones didn't get the memo. They refused to regenerate bone cells at a 4 to 6 week rate, so I had gaps in the bones. I had to stay off my feet, putting no weight on the foot, until January 8. That's 7 weeks. Seven. (It would be another two weeks after that before the cast came off.)

Since "no weight" means, well, NO weight on the foot, I spent those seven weeks in a wheelchair.

I'd been optimistically hoping for 4 weeks. I think I handled it fairly well, but boy, was I ready to WALK again.

I think that everyone should have to use a wheelchair for at least a week at some point in their lives. They should have something sharp attached to the bottom of one foot, too, to make sure it doesn't touch the ground. Otherwise, the object lesson is lost, and it's like using a desk chair to scoot around.

There's so many experiences - sleeping in a cast, showering with a shower chair - that you really have to experience to appreciate, but right now, I'm going to discuss one: wheelchair accessibility in public places.

When you're in a chair, suddenly any change in elevation is huge. Steps look like climbing the Alps. Any incline is exhausting (going up), a hazard (going down sharply) or a relief (going down gradually). In the movie theater, after wheeling myself to the restroom, I had to grab the hand rail and use it to haul myself up the incline, hand over hand, to the seating area. Later, when my son pushed my chair up the same hill, he said, "Wow, I never noticed that it went up like this before."

Restrooms, theaters, tables at restaurants - suddenly, you can't just choose any available spot. You have to choose the spots that will allow you access.

My first week in the chair, we went out to eat with visiting relatives. The waitress took away one of the chairs at the table, and I rolled right up, with my knees tucking neatly under the table. That was nice. At home, my legs run into the table leg at our dinner table, and I had to fold the wheelchair legs and let my feet sit on the ground if I was going to use the computer desk; otherwise, I didn't fit under the homemade desk.

Then came the first real obstacle; it was a buffet restaurant. I could run the wheels on my chair or hold my plate, but not both. Hmm. It was also difficult to reach most of the food. Sigh. Still, both of those things were doable with help from my family.

Then, I had to use the restroom. At home, my downstairs bathroom is too small for the chair. I had to park it at the door, hold onto the countertop, then hop 2 or 3 steps to the toilet. From the toilet, I could swing myself into the shower and onto the shower chair. It was pretty easy (aside from the fact that I hate hopping. My balance stinks, for one thing, and I only clear the floor by an inch or so.)

It shouldn't be too big a deal to use the public restroom, I assumed. There's handicapped access stalls, right?

The restroom entrance was difficult to manage. It had a fairly sharp, narrow turn in it. I had to take it carefully, and my chair took up all the room. Nobody could have passed me. The restroom itself was roomier, and I wheeled easily on tile floors down to the single handicapped stall.

I turned and wheeled in, and encountered my first problem. I couldn't turn the chair around, and therefore couldn't close the stall door. If I went back out and wheeled in backwards, so I could close the door, I wouldn't be able to transfer from my chair to the toilet. Hmmm.

I was scrabbling over the back of my chair, trying to close and latch the door, when a woman and her daughter came in. The woman sent her daughter over to help me just as I managed to get it closed by myself. I suppose that restroom designers assume that anyone in a chair will have help, but I don't know why.

I learned to truly appreciate spacious stalls that allowed me to turn my chair around. It had a tight turning radius, but in some stalls, I had only three or so inches on either side of me, and that's not enough. More than once, I'd have to kneel on the chair in order to close a stall door.

Once, the handicapped stall wasn't even big enough for my chair. With the chair almost touching the toilet, I couldn't close the stall door because my chair protruded - a good ten or twelve inches! - out of the stall. I used the restroom anyway; I had to. I hoped no one would walk in while I was there, and they didn't, but I couldn't have done it any differently.

The worst experience was at a movie theater. The handicapped stall was deep enough for me to get my chair in and close the door, but the chair was actually against the front of the toilet by that point. There was no way to turn around and sit properly on the toilet. Even if I'd managed to turn around, I would have had to have my legs up over my chair; it wasn't going to happen. There was no room down the side of the stall to put my legs, even to stand up and turn around. Of course, I had to go too urgently to go find another restroom. I'm lucky that my clothes are stretchy, and I'm not squeamish. I had to drop my pants and underwear down below my knees, then scoot forward to straddle the toilet, facing the back of the stall. My right leg had barely enough room between the toilet and the solid wall, but the left leg, with the cast on it, had to stick under the wall shared with the next stall. I wondered what anyone would think of my straddling the toilet backwards, or my foot sticking into their space, and decided that I didn't care. My bladder was full.

I think that anyone who designs "handicapped access" for public places needs to actually use their facilities, while in a wheelchair. Just because it's ADA compliant doesn't mean that it actually works for someone in a chair.