Wednesday, July 13, 2016
Bullying in the News
Neuroscience of bullying: Why do some find it rewarding?
Medical News Today
"There has been a great deal of study into the psychological and social reasons behind bullying. As neuroscience grows in strength, new findings are also adding to our knowledge about how and why bullying takes place. Researchers now believe that aggressive behavior is associated with an inappropriate activation of the brain's reward system." Read the entire article>>
3 Mistakes Parents Make When Their Own Kids Bully Them
by Sean Grover L.C.S.W., Psychology Today
"When testing turns to bullying, negotiation is off the table. When you negotiate with a bully, you set the stage for ongoing conflicts. Like surrendering, it rewards bullying and trains your child that bullying works. The next time your kid is frustrated by your restrictions, he will return to bullying because bullying leads to negotiation, and negotiation leans to getting what he wants." Read the entire article>>
If You Don’t Get Why Campus Rape Is A National Problem, Read This
by Lydia O'Connor and Tyler Kingkade, Huffington Post
"For many people, reading the Stanford University sexual assault victim’s powerful letter to her assailant was an entry point into the complicated, unjust realities of reporting and punishing sexual assault. While the attention the case — and similar ones at Baylor and Vanderbilt Universities — received is unusual, the attacks are not. Here are some of the most important things you need to know about the scope of sexual assault on college campuses. Around 1 in 5 women may experience sexual assault at college." Read the entire article>>
Wednesday, July 6, 2016
A Penny in Time Chapter 5: Soul Surfing (part 1)
I awoke with a jolt, squarely on my butt, not knowing where I was or if I were dreaming. Or what. The last thing I remembered was holding Sparky and a fistful of pennies and falling into a black hole. I examined my hands, empty, except for little bits of soft dirt, but no scratches. Still had the band-aid on my right thumb. My heart hammered like it might burst and I was panting like a dog. I guess I had to admit I was scared, because this place was like nothing I had ever seen. I listened and heard the stillness of nothing.
And here I was, in the middle of nowhere. Everything around me was a shade of gray: the sky was ashen, like the aftermath pictures I had seen of Mt. St. Helens; the dirt wasn't brown but ashy-colored and fine, and felt like old newspaper crumbling in my hands; and as far as I could see, a fog covered the ground. Even the bushes were drab and scraggly. No trees, but way off I could make out the outline of mountains.
I got up, and where I had sat were the five pennies. I picked each one up and pocketed them, wiping my hands clean on my jeans. I didn't know where I was or where I should be, or where I was going to go, but I thought I'd better start walking. I expected to stumble over headstones, for this had to be some kind of cemetery, for sure. But there was nothing but vast stretches of nothing. Maybe I was in the 'Twilight Zone'.
The mist swirled and curled around my legs, sweeping over my arms, but I felt neither cold nor damp like fog can make you feel. I felt nothing. I concentrated on counting my heartbeats. At least I'm alive, or I think I am.
I thought I'd better take my bearings, try to memorize my route. I turned around; behind me I saw the mist cover the path I had been walking. In front of me, maybe two or three feet ahead, there was a scrawny bush. It moved. Or did I just imagine it?
Well, I had to find out. When I approached the bush, the movement stopped. My skin crawled, like tiny ants moved up my arms and across my neck. Words froze in my throat, and the only noise that I made was sort of a stuttering hum. The bush chattered and I jumped back. I saw two tiny eyes peering at me, two specks of red lights in a furry face. I knelt down, close but not close enough to touch the creature. It hummed back the same sound I had made.
"It's okay, I won't hurt you," I whispered, wondering if it would hurt me. "Come on, come out. I won't hurt you," I repeated louder, offering my hand like you would for a dog to sniff. It burrowed down into the dirt, all but covered itself, except for those eerie little eyes.
It stayed beneath the bush, hidden by the crackling twigs for a long time. I couldn't leave it there, even though I told myself that I should be worried about myself. I felt incredibly lonely, like if I walked away from this creature, I'd be even more lost. Finally, it wiggled, shaking off the dirt and snapping off pieces of the brush as it ventured forth to almost-touching distance of my hand. It was small and cute like a baby koala bear! I waited, barely breathing, for it to come nearer. When it nuzzled my hand, I slowly brought my other hand over and started stroking its downy fur. "See," I murmured, "I said I wouldn't hurt you."
It answered me with a hum, the same soft monotone of my voice. "You like that, don't you?" I kept petting it and it kept humming, mimicking the sound of my voice.
"Poor, little thing," I scratched its delicate, pointed ear, and took a good look at it. It had a furry body with a face and hands more human-like than animal. "Are you lost, too?" I asked.
It whimpered, sounding just like a baby tired after crying too long. "Come on, then, I'll pick you up and we'll look for your parents." I scooped it up and it snuggled into my arms while I continued stroking it from its head down the middle of its back. It had no tail, but feet with thick pads and five toes. Surely, its mother and father were trying to find it. But where to look? Where to begin? Now, both of us together were in the middle of nowhere.
I don't know how or why, but I got the impression that it didn't have anyone who cared for it. The thought came so suddenly and so surely that I knew it was true. I felt a searing pain inside me, of loss and want and not knowing the why of it. "It's okay," I crooned, "I'll figure something out pretty soon."
I felt a rush of warmth as I looked down at this little creature in my arms, unsure whether the feeling was mine, or it gave the feeling to me. "Whatever," I answered myself out loud, "I guess we share and share alike."
"Do you have a name?" I held the creature at arm's length and stared into its eyes.
"You go!" ripped every thought from my mind, making me gasp in shock and pain.
My head throbbed and I felt like crying. I pressed the creature closer to my chest and waited for the flood of feelings to subside. For a few quiet moments, I tried to come up with a logical explanation for what was happening. As if anything here made sense! But if, and I thought it pretty far-fetched, if we were sharing thoughts, it could be that "You go!" was the only thing it had heard before I had spoken to it. At least it made some sense and gave me the feeling that I was right.
"Well, let's see." I stroked it, using every ounce of good feeling I had to impart as a means of comfort as I ran through a list of names, but none suited it. "Okay, how about Yugo?" I suggested in my nicest, softest voice. "Maybe we can change the bad feeling into something good, what do you say?"
The tangled mess of feelings in my gut unraveled and I relaxed. "Good, then Yugo, we've got one problem solved!" Which made me feel wonderful, except we were still at the same spot we were five minutes ago.
Yugo yelped. I felt his fear like a bolt of lightning through me. I don't know if I heard it, sensed it or saw it, but I do know I was running as fast as I could. Then in a fast glance back I saw a lot of mean something after us. I bolted, putting distance between us and some nasty fangs hot on my heels.
I clutched Yugo tight to my chest and dashed for the mountains, making out a possible hiding place. I ran, gasping and with a stitch in my side. It seemed like a hundred miles later I wedged us behind a big boulder. Whatever that thing was, big, four-footed and ugly as a rabid dog, snarling and pacing around the rock, it wanted us, but couldn't get at us. I told myself that I should be really afraid, but I wasn't. We could wait it out, and it would go away soon. It did.
"Yugo, that was close," I peered out, inspecting our surroundings. "Whatever is that thing?"
‘Not good!’ Punctuated my thoughts.
"Not good," I repeated aloud. Yeah, I guess it wasn't good. "Where do we go from here?"
But I got no answer on that one. Yugo was sound asleep. Me, I was too hyper to sleep, yet exhausted, too. So I sat on top of the flat part of the boulder and rocked Yugo while I looked over the horizon. I really had become attached to this little guy, like he was a part of myself that I understood on a gut level. He wasn't the least bit heavy or hard to carry. I thought how strange, like my arms should be tired by now. But hardly anything made sense here on this forsaken planet without moon, or stars, or for that matter, day or night. I recapped what I did know, very little at that: I had Yugo, who had me, and we had between us, a sharing. But practically, we had nothing. No food, water, or shelter. I didn't feel cold, hot or hungry, just all these crazy, mixed-up emotions.
Yugo must have had parents and a home at one point in his life, but he wasn't saying if he remembered. Maybe it was best he didn't remember, for the pain might be unbearable. Didn't I know how it felt when someone you loved suddenly stopped caring for you?
"Are you awake, little guy?" He stretched, tensed and relaxed, then nodded off again. "It's not going to be easy for me to find some place for us to go, unless you can help." But he didn't seem to hear, or least he didn't respond.
Where do you go when you don't know where you are?
I did know I had left nothing behind me, and as far as I could see, there was nothing to the right or left of us, except a huge mountain. I had to scale the steep slope and look around. What would I do with Yugo? I had to have my hands free. Then it hit me! Of course, I could wrap Yugo in my scarf and use my scarf as a carrier.
I woke Yugo when I put him down beside me. "It's okay," I answered his whine, "I'll show you what I have in mind." I unwound the scarf, scooped him up and gently placed him down on it, criss-crossing the ends. "Look, I’ll carry you while I climb over these rocks to get to the top and see if there is a place for us to go." I hugged him close as I could without smothering him and tied the ends.
I could tell Yugo didn't much like my idea, but he did understand we didn't have much of a choice. I had hoped he would remember something useful and relay it, but he didn't and I began the long, hard climb over the dark side of the mountain towards the top with Yugo mewing all the way.
"Listen! This is no picnic for me," I huffed and puffed, pulling us over another rock. The closer I got to the top, the further it seemed to be. We were getting nowhere. Finally, I had to stop and sit down to rethink a new plan.
"Is there no light?" I asked Yugo once I had unstrapped him and stuffed my scarf into my pants pocket.
And here I was, in the middle of nowhere. Everything around me was a shade of gray: the sky was ashen, like the aftermath pictures I had seen of Mt. St. Helens; the dirt wasn't brown but ashy-colored and fine, and felt like old newspaper crumbling in my hands; and as far as I could see, a fog covered the ground. Even the bushes were drab and scraggly. No trees, but way off I could make out the outline of mountains.
I got up, and where I had sat were the five pennies. I picked each one up and pocketed them, wiping my hands clean on my jeans. I didn't know where I was or where I should be, or where I was going to go, but I thought I'd better start walking. I expected to stumble over headstones, for this had to be some kind of cemetery, for sure. But there was nothing but vast stretches of nothing. Maybe I was in the 'Twilight Zone'.
The mist swirled and curled around my legs, sweeping over my arms, but I felt neither cold nor damp like fog can make you feel. I felt nothing. I concentrated on counting my heartbeats. At least I'm alive, or I think I am.
I thought I'd better take my bearings, try to memorize my route. I turned around; behind me I saw the mist cover the path I had been walking. In front of me, maybe two or three feet ahead, there was a scrawny bush. It moved. Or did I just imagine it?
Well, I had to find out. When I approached the bush, the movement stopped. My skin crawled, like tiny ants moved up my arms and across my neck. Words froze in my throat, and the only noise that I made was sort of a stuttering hum. The bush chattered and I jumped back. I saw two tiny eyes peering at me, two specks of red lights in a furry face. I knelt down, close but not close enough to touch the creature. It hummed back the same sound I had made.
"It's okay, I won't hurt you," I whispered, wondering if it would hurt me. "Come on, come out. I won't hurt you," I repeated louder, offering my hand like you would for a dog to sniff. It burrowed down into the dirt, all but covered itself, except for those eerie little eyes.
It stayed beneath the bush, hidden by the crackling twigs for a long time. I couldn't leave it there, even though I told myself that I should be worried about myself. I felt incredibly lonely, like if I walked away from this creature, I'd be even more lost. Finally, it wiggled, shaking off the dirt and snapping off pieces of the brush as it ventured forth to almost-touching distance of my hand. It was small and cute like a baby koala bear! I waited, barely breathing, for it to come nearer. When it nuzzled my hand, I slowly brought my other hand over and started stroking its downy fur. "See," I murmured, "I said I wouldn't hurt you."
It answered me with a hum, the same soft monotone of my voice. "You like that, don't you?" I kept petting it and it kept humming, mimicking the sound of my voice.
"Poor, little thing," I scratched its delicate, pointed ear, and took a good look at it. It had a furry body with a face and hands more human-like than animal. "Are you lost, too?" I asked.
It whimpered, sounding just like a baby tired after crying too long. "Come on, then, I'll pick you up and we'll look for your parents." I scooped it up and it snuggled into my arms while I continued stroking it from its head down the middle of its back. It had no tail, but feet with thick pads and five toes. Surely, its mother and father were trying to find it. But where to look? Where to begin? Now, both of us together were in the middle of nowhere.
I don't know how or why, but I got the impression that it didn't have anyone who cared for it. The thought came so suddenly and so surely that I knew it was true. I felt a searing pain inside me, of loss and want and not knowing the why of it. "It's okay," I crooned, "I'll figure something out pretty soon."
I felt a rush of warmth as I looked down at this little creature in my arms, unsure whether the feeling was mine, or it gave the feeling to me. "Whatever," I answered myself out loud, "I guess we share and share alike."
"Do you have a name?" I held the creature at arm's length and stared into its eyes.
"You go!" ripped every thought from my mind, making me gasp in shock and pain.
My head throbbed and I felt like crying. I pressed the creature closer to my chest and waited for the flood of feelings to subside. For a few quiet moments, I tried to come up with a logical explanation for what was happening. As if anything here made sense! But if, and I thought it pretty far-fetched, if we were sharing thoughts, it could be that "You go!" was the only thing it had heard before I had spoken to it. At least it made some sense and gave me the feeling that I was right.
"Well, let's see." I stroked it, using every ounce of good feeling I had to impart as a means of comfort as I ran through a list of names, but none suited it. "Okay, how about Yugo?" I suggested in my nicest, softest voice. "Maybe we can change the bad feeling into something good, what do you say?"
The tangled mess of feelings in my gut unraveled and I relaxed. "Good, then Yugo, we've got one problem solved!" Which made me feel wonderful, except we were still at the same spot we were five minutes ago.
Yugo yelped. I felt his fear like a bolt of lightning through me. I don't know if I heard it, sensed it or saw it, but I do know I was running as fast as I could. Then in a fast glance back I saw a lot of mean something after us. I bolted, putting distance between us and some nasty fangs hot on my heels.
I clutched Yugo tight to my chest and dashed for the mountains, making out a possible hiding place. I ran, gasping and with a stitch in my side. It seemed like a hundred miles later I wedged us behind a big boulder. Whatever that thing was, big, four-footed and ugly as a rabid dog, snarling and pacing around the rock, it wanted us, but couldn't get at us. I told myself that I should be really afraid, but I wasn't. We could wait it out, and it would go away soon. It did.
"Yugo, that was close," I peered out, inspecting our surroundings. "Whatever is that thing?"
‘Not good!’ Punctuated my thoughts.
"Not good," I repeated aloud. Yeah, I guess it wasn't good. "Where do we go from here?"
But I got no answer on that one. Yugo was sound asleep. Me, I was too hyper to sleep, yet exhausted, too. So I sat on top of the flat part of the boulder and rocked Yugo while I looked over the horizon. I really had become attached to this little guy, like he was a part of myself that I understood on a gut level. He wasn't the least bit heavy or hard to carry. I thought how strange, like my arms should be tired by now. But hardly anything made sense here on this forsaken planet without moon, or stars, or for that matter, day or night. I recapped what I did know, very little at that: I had Yugo, who had me, and we had between us, a sharing. But practically, we had nothing. No food, water, or shelter. I didn't feel cold, hot or hungry, just all these crazy, mixed-up emotions.
Yugo must have had parents and a home at one point in his life, but he wasn't saying if he remembered. Maybe it was best he didn't remember, for the pain might be unbearable. Didn't I know how it felt when someone you loved suddenly stopped caring for you?
"Are you awake, little guy?" He stretched, tensed and relaxed, then nodded off again. "It's not going to be easy for me to find some place for us to go, unless you can help." But he didn't seem to hear, or least he didn't respond.
Where do you go when you don't know where you are?
I did know I had left nothing behind me, and as far as I could see, there was nothing to the right or left of us, except a huge mountain. I had to scale the steep slope and look around. What would I do with Yugo? I had to have my hands free. Then it hit me! Of course, I could wrap Yugo in my scarf and use my scarf as a carrier.
I woke Yugo when I put him down beside me. "It's okay," I answered his whine, "I'll show you what I have in mind." I unwound the scarf, scooped him up and gently placed him down on it, criss-crossing the ends. "Look, I’ll carry you while I climb over these rocks to get to the top and see if there is a place for us to go." I hugged him close as I could without smothering him and tied the ends.
I could tell Yugo didn't much like my idea, but he did understand we didn't have much of a choice. I had hoped he would remember something useful and relay it, but he didn't and I began the long, hard climb over the dark side of the mountain towards the top with Yugo mewing all the way.
"Listen! This is no picnic for me," I huffed and puffed, pulling us over another rock. The closer I got to the top, the further it seemed to be. We were getting nowhere. Finally, I had to stop and sit down to rethink a new plan.
"Is there no light?" I asked Yugo once I had unstrapped him and stuffed my scarf into my pants pocket.
Wednesday, June 29, 2016
Forcing the Hand of God: Chapter 23 (part 2)
“I know, good knight, I know,” Adele murmured back. She dropped his hand and went back into the kitchen, leaving him and Aunt Carrie facing one another.
“Oh, Rodgie, how can you let yourself be beaten so!” Like a pampered squirrel, she nested into the chair, worrying her question.
“Don’t know. It’s funny, but you don’t even feel it,” Rodger gulped at his beer, “until later. It’s not as bad as it looks.”
“It’s bad enough. You should see yourself!” Carrie pointed at him. “Is that any way for a man of your age and rank to behave?”
“Only if I win, Aunt Carrie,” he grinned. “Then I’m the hero of the hour.”
Madeline appeared. “Would you kindly prepare for dinner?”
Rodger nodded to the girls’ room. “I’ll call them.”
Adele bustled into the living room, then up the stairs. “No, the baby’s asleep. I’ll bring Heather and Rachel down.”
He drained the rest of his beer. The uncomfortable silence in the room pulled at him like over-stretched elastic. He wished this part of the night over so that he could relax with Ada and Adele.
Dues. He had to pay the family dues.
Rachel and Heather ate side by side, sneaking glances at him. Madeline silenced them with a reproachful look before either could question him. Rodger put down his fork and wiped his mouth with a linen napkin.
“I’m curious whether Captain Midnight goes after those Japs tonight. Last night he almost bought it.”
Madeline slapped down her napkin. “Isn’t it bad enough there’s a real war raging all over Europe without a silly, make‑believe hero?”
His jaw tensed as he stared down his mother.
“I’ve known a dozen Captain Midnights, Mother. Real guys.” He pushed away from the table. “I’ll be back, girls. Warm up the radio.”
He let himself out the back door, walking up towards the riverside, pounding out his anger in every step. Over and over in his mind, he sought a way out from the endless arguments. He stopped by a sycamore tree and leaned against the rough bark, twisting his head back and forth, trying to ease the tension.
He bent down and picked stones to skip across the river, thinking of Tommy and the days they had played on rafts down here. The summer days he had fished. The picnics with Dee Simmons. Skinny-dipping. And making love on a woolen blanket. And a dozen things he had wanted to tell his father.
He flipped another smooth stone across the water, counting the ripples from three centers. Then he took his time strolling back to his mother’s house. He checked his watch. Just in time for Captain Midnight.
Adele sat on the edge of his mother’s bed, nursing Jonelle as Rachel and Heather hovered around the crackling radio. Rodger leaned over between his sisters and twirled the knob until the announcer’s voice barked, “The makers of Ovaltine® sponsor the following program.” He sat cross‑legged in front of the radio with Rachel and Heather, engrossed until the very end.
He turned to Adele. “Now, radio, that’s a worthwhile past time.” He stretched, raising his arms. “I’m going next door to talk to Ada. Come with me.”
Like a startled katydid, Rachel jumped up from the floor. “I think I hear Ada at the door now.”
“Let’s go down and see her!” sang out Heather. Both girls darted out the bedroom and down the stairs.
“Jonelle’s finished nursing.” She handed the gurgling baby to her husband. “Go see Daddy. Here.”
With Jonelle on his shoulder, he led Adele down the stairs.
Madeline rushed over to Rodger and scooped Jonelle out of his arms. “Ada look! Don’t you think she has John’s eyes?”
Rodger swiped the baby out of his mother’s hands. Her eyes bugged out, but she didn’t make a sound. He presented Jonelle to Ada, who opened her arms to receive the squirming bundle.
“I…I think,” Ada stammered, “that Jonelle has your hands, Madeline. Her fingers are so long.”
Madeline bit her lip. She examined her nails.
“I hope she has Adele’s personality.”
Rodger gathered his bag in his left hand.
“I do, too.” He marched to the door, turning to see his aunt emerge from the kitchen. “And Aunt Carrie’s smile.” He held the door open for Ada and Adele to exit. “Good night, Mother. Good night, Aunt Carrie.” He blew kisses to his sisters.
“Thank you for dinner, Mother. The casserole was delicious!” Adele stopped by his side. “I’ll talk to you in the morning.”
Madeline looked to Carrie, who held onto a pie dish in her chubby hands. “Won’t you stay for dessert? Ada brought us a strawberry cream pie.”
Rodger nudged Adele with his elbow.
“No, thanks. Maybe tomorrow.”
Out on the sidewalk, Adele snatched his shirt sleeve. “Just what gives you the right to be so damn rude to your mother?”
He threw off her hand.
“She irritates the hell out of me!”
Adele put her hands on her hips. Ada went on into her house with Jonelle. Fireflies sparked the evening air. “Your mother is scared, Rodger. Try to understand.”
He tore the wrappings from a new pack of cigarettes, punched one out, stuck it between his lips, and fished in his pocket for a match. He lit the match and held it away from the tip of the Lucky until it burned half‑way down. “So now you want to play the peacemaker?”
Adele’s raspy breathing, timed to his own, linked them in an odd agreement. She pointed her finger at him, stabbing the space between them.
“You’re a brat.”
He batted her finger with his right hand. “You sound like a granny.”
She laughed. “Maybe I’ve been around them too long,” she jerked her head backwards, indicating the house. “To be truthful, I understand why they get on your nerves.”
He stepped to her side, clasping her about the waist. “Don’t start that nagging. That’s one of the things I loved you for. You never were a whiner or nag.”
Adele hugged him. “But, Rodger, you can’t get your way all the time.”
“Why not?” He flicked away the cigarette stub.
“Because!” Adele shot back. Rodger opened the screen as Adele pushed open the front door of Ada’s house.
Ada sat on the couch, pillows propping her elbows as she held Jonelle and sang a lullaby to her. She had a surprisingly deep and gravelly voice.
Rodger watched her stroke Jonelle’s cheek, seemingly lost for a moment in the mystery of the baby and her song. Adele waited for Ada to finish the lullaby before picking up Jonelle.
“I’ll feed her once more, and maybe, just maybe the walk home will put her asleep for the whole night.”
Ada settled back into the couch. “Don’t count on it. Those night feedings might go on for another month or more.” Adele padded down the hall to the bedroom, leaving Ada and Rodger alone. He drummed the arm of the chair with his fingertips.
“I could rig up your sewing machine so that it’ll be easier to use.”
Ada massaged her hands, shaking her head so that her fine gray hair trailing from its chignon swayed like miniature streamers.
“You’ve done quite enough, mister.”
When Rodger frowned at her, she gave a dismissive a wave of her hand.
“Oh, all right. If you insist and have nothing better to do with your time, I’d be pleased to have you do it.”
“I have the time.” He avoided her eyes, until he could stand it no longer. “What’s the matter?”
“You.” Ada inched closer to him. The fine material of her flowered dress stretched taut against her bosom. “Tell her the truth, Rodger.”
He bolted upright. “Goddamn it! Why is everyone ragging on me?”
Ada pursed her lips. “It’ll not be right between the two of you if you keep secrets.”
“I don’t keep secrets.” He stared fixedly at her.
“I’ve known you too long, Rodger, not to know when you’re hiding a piece of the puzzle.”
He blushed, remembering how important it used to be to him to put in the last jigsaw puzzle piece. Ada never scolded him for keeping it in his pocket for a day or two, but she always made him put it in, finally.
“I have to go back,” he lowered his voice. “I have to square things for Mary Elizabeth.” He leaned down and smacked the kitten as it leaped for his shoe. “I have this dream. Every night. Running away from Mary Elizabeth and LinChing as they stand in front of the mission, begging me to take them home. Only there’s no home.”
The kitten sought refuge in Ada’s lap. She petted it absent‑mindedly.
“But Jonelle...,” Ada’s voice cracked.
Rodger searched Ada’s loving face.
“She’s in good hands.” He looked away, out the window at the dark shadows of the leaves on the tree. “I’ll come home.”
Adele came out of the bedroom, Jonelle asleep on her shoulder. Rodger hurried to the buggy by the chair and wheeled it over to Adele. Ada smoothed out the blanket, her hands working around Adele’s as she lay the baby down. Rodger propped the door open and took the buggy down the steps onto the sidewalk. He waved to Ada as Adele hugged her goodbye.
Adele hopped to catch up with him, clutching his hand as they walked side by side. The wheels of the buggy squeaked. He sighed as they came upon their brightly lit porch.
“Must cut the grass in the morning,” he said as he opened the door.
Adele pushed the buggy indoors. “Let’s just take it easy tomorrow, honey,” she pecked his sore cheek. Rodger winced. “Oh, sorry.” She went to touch it, but he pulled away.
“I’m tired tonight. Are you?”
“I haven’t boxed in the ring,” Adele faced him, the tartness of her voice betraying the comfort of her words.
“What is it you want from me, Adele?” Rodger crossed his arms and leaned against the wall.
“I don’t know,” she paced in front of him, wringing her hands. “Maybe that’s the question I should be asking you.”
“Jesus, Adele! I want you to be happy. The baby to be happy.” He chewed his lip. No, this wouldn’t wash; she wouldn’t be compromised with a vague truth. “I don’t know. Something inside of me.”
“What? Losing your father? Sam? Mary Elizabeth?”
“None of that. All of it.” He closed his eyes. “I thought today about how LinChing busted his bones to do the right thing all the time. On top of those planes like he was personally responsible for them, he had his kid, too. Trying to do the right thing.” His left cheek and ear throbbed, shooting pangs along his neck. “You’re on me lately about every damn thing I do.”
“I want you…you,” she stumbled over her words, “to want to stay with us.”
“It wasn’t my idea to start this war.” He watched her through slitted eyes.
“No, but it seems to be your game.”
“I’m a flyer, honey. You knew that before we married.”
She sighed in defeat. “I know. I guess I thought because I changed after having Jonelle, you would, too.”
He grabbed her by the hands and embraced her.
“I’ll always provide us a good home and be a great daddy. You wait and see.”
Adele hugged him hard. “I’ll be here. I’ll wait.”
“And,” he pulled back to look into her eyes, “I’ll bring you more silver, marble and silks from China.”
She stared long and direct at him. “Just bring yourself back in one piece, mister.”
Soft mewing sounds came from the buggy as Jonelle awoke.
“There, there, hush, hush,” Adele cooed as she lifted Jonelle from the buggy and took her to the nursery.
Rodger watched them disappear into the room and then turned into the bedroom. He hastily undressed and crawled between the cool sheets.
He heard the sheets rustling and felt the warmth of Adele’s body when she climbed in bed beside him. She encircled his waist with her arms and snuggled into his back. Sleep enfolded him.
In the middle of the night, a pocket of coldness where Adele should have been shocked him awake. He listened for her above the pounding of his heart.
She moved through the hallway, to the door and paused.
“Rodger?” the alarm in her voice distressed him. “What’s the matter?”
He sat on the edge of the bed, cradling his head in his hands.
“Nothing. Come to bed.”
She slid in behind him, hugging his shoulders, pressing her face against his back.
“Are you in pain?”
“No.” He sat still, then turned and lay down, pulling her into his side. “I have to tell you something.”
Hiccupping cries pealed throughout the house. Adele sprang out of bed and ran down to the nursery. Minutes later, she returned with Jonelle nestled against her shoulder. Rodger reached over to the bed stand and flipped on the light, illuminating Adele’s face etched in worry. He patted the edge of the bed.
“Come here. It’s not that bad. And you probably know anyway.” Adele sat down beside him, and he put his arm around her shoulder, pulling her in a gentle hug, careful of the nursing baby. “I’ve put in for a transfer for China. The Flying Tigers.” He shrugged. “May or may not happen.”
Adele cradled the baby against her shoulder, patting her on the back and nodded her head in time with the taps. Jonelle burped, sighed and closed her eyes, whispering baby snores.
“Sooner or later, I knew you’d go back.”
“I want you to understand I have to go back.” He sighed, pulling her close to him and kissing her ear lobe. “You know, for God, motherhood, apple pie, and all that.”
Adele pressed her forehead against his.
“No,” she muttered, shaking her head back and forth. “For you, Rodger.”
She took the sleeping baby back to her bed. He thought he heard muffled sounds of Adele crying. He waited, his shoulders aching from being tensed.
She tripped into the room, dancing in front of him with her nightgown fanned in her hand, and pulled taut, her body outlined by satin. He watched, fascinated. She dipped and swayed, inviting him with a wave of her hand. He rose, accepted her hand, crushing his body into hers, moving in time with her undulating hips. Her eyes closed and her head tilted back, she parted her lips and waited for his kiss. He met her lips. They waltzed. He pressed his cheek against hers, thankful for this hour. In the light that cast their ghostly shadows about the room; all else forgotten, they danced.
“Oh, Rodgie, how can you let yourself be beaten so!” Like a pampered squirrel, she nested into the chair, worrying her question.
“Don’t know. It’s funny, but you don’t even feel it,” Rodger gulped at his beer, “until later. It’s not as bad as it looks.”
“It’s bad enough. You should see yourself!” Carrie pointed at him. “Is that any way for a man of your age and rank to behave?”
“Only if I win, Aunt Carrie,” he grinned. “Then I’m the hero of the hour.”
Madeline appeared. “Would you kindly prepare for dinner?”
Rodger nodded to the girls’ room. “I’ll call them.”
Adele bustled into the living room, then up the stairs. “No, the baby’s asleep. I’ll bring Heather and Rachel down.”
He drained the rest of his beer. The uncomfortable silence in the room pulled at him like over-stretched elastic. He wished this part of the night over so that he could relax with Ada and Adele.
Dues. He had to pay the family dues.
Rachel and Heather ate side by side, sneaking glances at him. Madeline silenced them with a reproachful look before either could question him. Rodger put down his fork and wiped his mouth with a linen napkin.
“I’m curious whether Captain Midnight goes after those Japs tonight. Last night he almost bought it.”
Madeline slapped down her napkin. “Isn’t it bad enough there’s a real war raging all over Europe without a silly, make‑believe hero?”
His jaw tensed as he stared down his mother.
“I’ve known a dozen Captain Midnights, Mother. Real guys.” He pushed away from the table. “I’ll be back, girls. Warm up the radio.”
He let himself out the back door, walking up towards the riverside, pounding out his anger in every step. Over and over in his mind, he sought a way out from the endless arguments. He stopped by a sycamore tree and leaned against the rough bark, twisting his head back and forth, trying to ease the tension.
He bent down and picked stones to skip across the river, thinking of Tommy and the days they had played on rafts down here. The summer days he had fished. The picnics with Dee Simmons. Skinny-dipping. And making love on a woolen blanket. And a dozen things he had wanted to tell his father.
He flipped another smooth stone across the water, counting the ripples from three centers. Then he took his time strolling back to his mother’s house. He checked his watch. Just in time for Captain Midnight.
Adele sat on the edge of his mother’s bed, nursing Jonelle as Rachel and Heather hovered around the crackling radio. Rodger leaned over between his sisters and twirled the knob until the announcer’s voice barked, “The makers of Ovaltine® sponsor the following program.” He sat cross‑legged in front of the radio with Rachel and Heather, engrossed until the very end.
He turned to Adele. “Now, radio, that’s a worthwhile past time.” He stretched, raising his arms. “I’m going next door to talk to Ada. Come with me.”
Like a startled katydid, Rachel jumped up from the floor. “I think I hear Ada at the door now.”
“Let’s go down and see her!” sang out Heather. Both girls darted out the bedroom and down the stairs.
“Jonelle’s finished nursing.” She handed the gurgling baby to her husband. “Go see Daddy. Here.”
With Jonelle on his shoulder, he led Adele down the stairs.
Madeline rushed over to Rodger and scooped Jonelle out of his arms. “Ada look! Don’t you think she has John’s eyes?”
Rodger swiped the baby out of his mother’s hands. Her eyes bugged out, but she didn’t make a sound. He presented Jonelle to Ada, who opened her arms to receive the squirming bundle.
“I…I think,” Ada stammered, “that Jonelle has your hands, Madeline. Her fingers are so long.”
Madeline bit her lip. She examined her nails.
“I hope she has Adele’s personality.”
Rodger gathered his bag in his left hand.
“I do, too.” He marched to the door, turning to see his aunt emerge from the kitchen. “And Aunt Carrie’s smile.” He held the door open for Ada and Adele to exit. “Good night, Mother. Good night, Aunt Carrie.” He blew kisses to his sisters.
“Thank you for dinner, Mother. The casserole was delicious!” Adele stopped by his side. “I’ll talk to you in the morning.”
Madeline looked to Carrie, who held onto a pie dish in her chubby hands. “Won’t you stay for dessert? Ada brought us a strawberry cream pie.”
Rodger nudged Adele with his elbow.
“No, thanks. Maybe tomorrow.”
Out on the sidewalk, Adele snatched his shirt sleeve. “Just what gives you the right to be so damn rude to your mother?”
He threw off her hand.
“She irritates the hell out of me!”
Adele put her hands on her hips. Ada went on into her house with Jonelle. Fireflies sparked the evening air. “Your mother is scared, Rodger. Try to understand.”
He tore the wrappings from a new pack of cigarettes, punched one out, stuck it between his lips, and fished in his pocket for a match. He lit the match and held it away from the tip of the Lucky until it burned half‑way down. “So now you want to play the peacemaker?”
Adele’s raspy breathing, timed to his own, linked them in an odd agreement. She pointed her finger at him, stabbing the space between them.
“You’re a brat.”
He batted her finger with his right hand. “You sound like a granny.”
She laughed. “Maybe I’ve been around them too long,” she jerked her head backwards, indicating the house. “To be truthful, I understand why they get on your nerves.”
He stepped to her side, clasping her about the waist. “Don’t start that nagging. That’s one of the things I loved you for. You never were a whiner or nag.”
Adele hugged him. “But, Rodger, you can’t get your way all the time.”
“Why not?” He flicked away the cigarette stub.
“Because!” Adele shot back. Rodger opened the screen as Adele pushed open the front door of Ada’s house.
Ada sat on the couch, pillows propping her elbows as she held Jonelle and sang a lullaby to her. She had a surprisingly deep and gravelly voice.
Rodger watched her stroke Jonelle’s cheek, seemingly lost for a moment in the mystery of the baby and her song. Adele waited for Ada to finish the lullaby before picking up Jonelle.
“I’ll feed her once more, and maybe, just maybe the walk home will put her asleep for the whole night.”
Ada settled back into the couch. “Don’t count on it. Those night feedings might go on for another month or more.” Adele padded down the hall to the bedroom, leaving Ada and Rodger alone. He drummed the arm of the chair with his fingertips.
“I could rig up your sewing machine so that it’ll be easier to use.”
Ada massaged her hands, shaking her head so that her fine gray hair trailing from its chignon swayed like miniature streamers.
“You’ve done quite enough, mister.”
When Rodger frowned at her, she gave a dismissive a wave of her hand.
“Oh, all right. If you insist and have nothing better to do with your time, I’d be pleased to have you do it.”
“I have the time.” He avoided her eyes, until he could stand it no longer. “What’s the matter?”
“You.” Ada inched closer to him. The fine material of her flowered dress stretched taut against her bosom. “Tell her the truth, Rodger.”
He bolted upright. “Goddamn it! Why is everyone ragging on me?”
Ada pursed her lips. “It’ll not be right between the two of you if you keep secrets.”
“I don’t keep secrets.” He stared fixedly at her.
“I’ve known you too long, Rodger, not to know when you’re hiding a piece of the puzzle.”
He blushed, remembering how important it used to be to him to put in the last jigsaw puzzle piece. Ada never scolded him for keeping it in his pocket for a day or two, but she always made him put it in, finally.
“I have to go back,” he lowered his voice. “I have to square things for Mary Elizabeth.” He leaned down and smacked the kitten as it leaped for his shoe. “I have this dream. Every night. Running away from Mary Elizabeth and LinChing as they stand in front of the mission, begging me to take them home. Only there’s no home.”
The kitten sought refuge in Ada’s lap. She petted it absent‑mindedly.
“But Jonelle...,” Ada’s voice cracked.
Rodger searched Ada’s loving face.
“She’s in good hands.” He looked away, out the window at the dark shadows of the leaves on the tree. “I’ll come home.”
Adele came out of the bedroom, Jonelle asleep on her shoulder. Rodger hurried to the buggy by the chair and wheeled it over to Adele. Ada smoothed out the blanket, her hands working around Adele’s as she lay the baby down. Rodger propped the door open and took the buggy down the steps onto the sidewalk. He waved to Ada as Adele hugged her goodbye.
Adele hopped to catch up with him, clutching his hand as they walked side by side. The wheels of the buggy squeaked. He sighed as they came upon their brightly lit porch.
“Must cut the grass in the morning,” he said as he opened the door.
Adele pushed the buggy indoors. “Let’s just take it easy tomorrow, honey,” she pecked his sore cheek. Rodger winced. “Oh, sorry.” She went to touch it, but he pulled away.
“I’m tired tonight. Are you?”
“I haven’t boxed in the ring,” Adele faced him, the tartness of her voice betraying the comfort of her words.
“What is it you want from me, Adele?” Rodger crossed his arms and leaned against the wall.
“I don’t know,” she paced in front of him, wringing her hands. “Maybe that’s the question I should be asking you.”
“Jesus, Adele! I want you to be happy. The baby to be happy.” He chewed his lip. No, this wouldn’t wash; she wouldn’t be compromised with a vague truth. “I don’t know. Something inside of me.”
“What? Losing your father? Sam? Mary Elizabeth?”
“None of that. All of it.” He closed his eyes. “I thought today about how LinChing busted his bones to do the right thing all the time. On top of those planes like he was personally responsible for them, he had his kid, too. Trying to do the right thing.” His left cheek and ear throbbed, shooting pangs along his neck. “You’re on me lately about every damn thing I do.”
“I want you…you,” she stumbled over her words, “to want to stay with us.”
“It wasn’t my idea to start this war.” He watched her through slitted eyes.
“No, but it seems to be your game.”
“I’m a flyer, honey. You knew that before we married.”
She sighed in defeat. “I know. I guess I thought because I changed after having Jonelle, you would, too.”
He grabbed her by the hands and embraced her.
“I’ll always provide us a good home and be a great daddy. You wait and see.”
Adele hugged him hard. “I’ll be here. I’ll wait.”
“And,” he pulled back to look into her eyes, “I’ll bring you more silver, marble and silks from China.”
She stared long and direct at him. “Just bring yourself back in one piece, mister.”
Soft mewing sounds came from the buggy as Jonelle awoke.
“There, there, hush, hush,” Adele cooed as she lifted Jonelle from the buggy and took her to the nursery.
Rodger watched them disappear into the room and then turned into the bedroom. He hastily undressed and crawled between the cool sheets.
He heard the sheets rustling and felt the warmth of Adele’s body when she climbed in bed beside him. She encircled his waist with her arms and snuggled into his back. Sleep enfolded him.
In the middle of the night, a pocket of coldness where Adele should have been shocked him awake. He listened for her above the pounding of his heart.
She moved through the hallway, to the door and paused.
“Rodger?” the alarm in her voice distressed him. “What’s the matter?”
He sat on the edge of the bed, cradling his head in his hands.
“Nothing. Come to bed.”
She slid in behind him, hugging his shoulders, pressing her face against his back.
“Are you in pain?”
“No.” He sat still, then turned and lay down, pulling her into his side. “I have to tell you something.”
Hiccupping cries pealed throughout the house. Adele sprang out of bed and ran down to the nursery. Minutes later, she returned with Jonelle nestled against her shoulder. Rodger reached over to the bed stand and flipped on the light, illuminating Adele’s face etched in worry. He patted the edge of the bed.
“Come here. It’s not that bad. And you probably know anyway.” Adele sat down beside him, and he put his arm around her shoulder, pulling her in a gentle hug, careful of the nursing baby. “I’ve put in for a transfer for China. The Flying Tigers.” He shrugged. “May or may not happen.”
Adele cradled the baby against her shoulder, patting her on the back and nodded her head in time with the taps. Jonelle burped, sighed and closed her eyes, whispering baby snores.
“Sooner or later, I knew you’d go back.”
“I want you to understand I have to go back.” He sighed, pulling her close to him and kissing her ear lobe. “You know, for God, motherhood, apple pie, and all that.”
Adele pressed her forehead against his.
“No,” she muttered, shaking her head back and forth. “For you, Rodger.”
She took the sleeping baby back to her bed. He thought he heard muffled sounds of Adele crying. He waited, his shoulders aching from being tensed.
She tripped into the room, dancing in front of him with her nightgown fanned in her hand, and pulled taut, her body outlined by satin. He watched, fascinated. She dipped and swayed, inviting him with a wave of her hand. He rose, accepted her hand, crushing his body into hers, moving in time with her undulating hips. Her eyes closed and her head tilted back, she parted her lips and waited for his kiss. He met her lips. They waltzed. He pressed his cheek against hers, thankful for this hour. In the light that cast their ghostly shadows about the room; all else forgotten, they danced.
Wednesday, June 22, 2016
On and on and on…
It is not a safe world to live in. I was born in 1952, and during my lifetime, the United States has been engaged in wars—all but three years, 1976-1978. I remember earthquake and bomb shelter drills in grade school. I grew up in San Bernardino, California, having moved from Oklahoma City to Oregon to California. During my childhood and school years, there were gang wars and rampant drug dealing often on campus; Los Angeles Watts riots of 1965, leaving 34 dead and thousands injured; October 1969, San Bernardino High School was in lockdown for riots, several people injured; May 4, 1970, Kent State shootings, 4 dead; the Vietnam War, 1959-1975, five of my friends did not come back; April 19, 1995, the Oklahoma City bombing with 168 confirmed deaths. The worst imaginable was 2001, the Twin Towers terrorist attacks, with 2,996 dead. Unfortunately, I could go on and on and on…..
How can we go about our daily lives without constantly dwelling on the horrific? How can we give our children a sense of safety and security with the constant bombardment of media exploiting the fear and immediacy of events in the news? We cannot turn off the media; ignore the radio, not peruse the newspapers or not read our news feeds on the computer and smartphone; we cannot arm our children with weapons to protect them from everyday life.
What we can do is provide a haven in our family and home, giving them a safety net to catch their fears and worries by reassurance that their world is stable and by example, the people in it are kind and nurturing. Parents and caregivers are important and integral to a child’s sense of his and her environment as either benign or hostile, embedding confidence, enhancing a child’s natural curiosity about the world and people and one’s place in the scheme of life. If the home is not a safe place to be, the outside world is not either.
Parenting is an awesome responsibility. Each one of us needs to examine his or her attitudes toward those in our immediate community and the global village, to ask oneself if, by example, am I exemplifying values of trustworthiness, kindness, compassion, empathy? Will my children see me as someone who is mean-spirited, petty, vicious or bigoted? Or as the parent whom they can trust to tell the truth, treat everyone, young and old, animals, too, with kindness and respect and dignity?
I have written articles about bullies that children have to contend with in their lives; siblings, peers, parents, emotions and world events. I emphasize once again that parents and caregivers are the center of the universe in a child’s life. If a child has a core sense of rightness, safety and trust, the outside remains just a place to be in and not someplace internalized—in other words, the child can be okay because the awful events occur outside and not inside. We do not have to live in fear; and we do not have to teach our children to live fearfully. We can give them advice, warnings and admonitions and social skills but more importantly, if a child is treated with respect and love and kindness, this will be part of his and her armor to face the scary and threatening place ‘out there’ with mean people and uncontrollable events and disasters. We can feed our children with healthy foods, and by example, respect the needs of the body. If you smoke, do not smoke in an enclosed area—I can remember how embarrassing it was for me to get out of the car and smell like an ashtray. Pay attention to how a child’s shoes and clothing fit and how teeth look and if your child squints; dental, eye and physical checkups may be unpleasant and costly, but they are necessary.
But most importantly, know your child. When you are about to make a point again, lower your voice and speak deliberately. Expect your children to respect you by voice intonation and actions—as you respect them by never resorting to name calling or humiliation or sarcasm as a disciplinarian tool. Speak your truth softly and it will be more effective than a slap in the face. We live in an imperfect world. But we have choices about how we live, and what we make of this world for our children. And their children. And on and on and on…
Wednesday, June 15, 2016
Helping Children Feel Safer
Easing Kid Worries About Our Unpredictable World
By Dr. Michele Borba
MicheleBorba.com
Terrorism. ISIS. Bombings. Beheadings. War. School shootings. Pedophiles. Cyberbullying. Kidnappings. Global warming. Tsunamis. Earthquakes. Sexual abuse. It’s a scary world out there for us, but how do you think the kids are faring?
Let’s face it-we live in frightening, unpredictable times. But if you are feeling a bit jittery about violence, turbulent weather conditions, current events, or a troubled economy, imagine how our kids must feel. Talk of uncertain times permeates the world around them. Graphic television images of real disasters and terrifying events just reinforce their fears.
Think about it: this is the first generation of children who have watched broadcasts of war, terrorist attacks, natural disasters and school massacres in their own living rooms. Make no mistake: the image of the world as a mean and scary place is affecting our kids’ well-being. In fact, George Gerbner coined the term “Mean World Syndrome” describe a phenomenon when violence-related content in the mass media makes viewers believe that the world is more dangerous than it actually is. And that syndrome seems to be one that our kids are catching.
Read the entire article>>
How to Help Kids Feel Safe After TragedyBy Grace Hwang Lynch
PBS Parents
In the days and weeks following a high-profile tragedy, kids may have a lot of questions about whether something like this could happen to them. In fact, parents themselves may have a lot of worries about the safety of raising children in this world. It's normal for both adults and kids to feel anxious after such a publicly devastating event, but there are things you can do to minimize the stress and maintain a sense of normalcy.
Here are some tips from psychologists.
It's Normal to Be Concerned.
Youngsters who have heard or seen news reports about disturbing events may be reluctant to return to the classroom and other public spaces. Moms and dads may even feel anxious about dropping their kids off at day care or school, after hearing about tragedies that happen to children. "Parents are following instincts to be alarmed and to be fearful," says nationally certified school psychologist Eric Rossen, Ph.D. But Rossen stresses that we need to remember these are isolated incidents. "It's important to continue to remember that this is such a rare event, statistically and objectively speaking. It's hard to bear because it's so rare."
Read the entire article>>
By Dr. Michele Borba
MicheleBorba.com
Terrorism. ISIS. Bombings. Beheadings. War. School shootings. Pedophiles. Cyberbullying. Kidnappings. Global warming. Tsunamis. Earthquakes. Sexual abuse. It’s a scary world out there for us, but how do you think the kids are faring?
Let’s face it-we live in frightening, unpredictable times. But if you are feeling a bit jittery about violence, turbulent weather conditions, current events, or a troubled economy, imagine how our kids must feel. Talk of uncertain times permeates the world around them. Graphic television images of real disasters and terrifying events just reinforce their fears.
Think about it: this is the first generation of children who have watched broadcasts of war, terrorist attacks, natural disasters and school massacres in their own living rooms. Make no mistake: the image of the world as a mean and scary place is affecting our kids’ well-being. In fact, George Gerbner coined the term “Mean World Syndrome” describe a phenomenon when violence-related content in the mass media makes viewers believe that the world is more dangerous than it actually is. And that syndrome seems to be one that our kids are catching.
Read the entire article>>
How to Help Kids Feel Safe After TragedyBy Grace Hwang Lynch
PBS Parents
In the days and weeks following a high-profile tragedy, kids may have a lot of questions about whether something like this could happen to them. In fact, parents themselves may have a lot of worries about the safety of raising children in this world. It's normal for both adults and kids to feel anxious after such a publicly devastating event, but there are things you can do to minimize the stress and maintain a sense of normalcy.
Here are some tips from psychologists.
It's Normal to Be Concerned.
Youngsters who have heard or seen news reports about disturbing events may be reluctant to return to the classroom and other public spaces. Moms and dads may even feel anxious about dropping their kids off at day care or school, after hearing about tragedies that happen to children. "Parents are following instincts to be alarmed and to be fearful," says nationally certified school psychologist Eric Rossen, Ph.D. But Rossen stresses that we need to remember these are isolated incidents. "It's important to continue to remember that this is such a rare event, statistically and objectively speaking. It's hard to bear because it's so rare."
Read the entire article>>
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