 |
| Inspired by someone else's blog. (You know who you are.) So, no snub intended of Golfito. I've seen a flock on buzzards near Princeton too. Besides, I happen to like these birds. By the way, I don't remember who actually snapped this shot, me or D. For me - with my anemic artistic sensibility - it's not about creativity or composition. It's just urban life and being lucky enough to see it here and there (and not just here). |
26 October 2010
Urban birds in Golfito (7/2010)
What I listened to when I cleaned the kitchen...
I was just cleaning the kitchen and I brought along music that I "wanted" to listen to. How sad. The only time I really listen to music now is when I clean the kitchen and, even then, I often just flip on NPR, and I'm basically hoping to hear news/talk. Today was an NPR fund raiser, so, knowing I'd be slaving away for 40 minutes, I made a point of choosing some CDs.
Speaking of NPR, a guest once said that, in terms of music, after 30ish, we get stuck in our ways. Most people stop feeling the desire to listen to new sounds. For me, it's true, and that is a great thing about having children who like music. Both son and daughter get me music for Christmas or give me things to listen to. (My youngest, on the other hand, seems to prefer that I NOT like his music too much).
Here's the problem; I find it much much harder to listen to new music. When I was younger, it was normal to try out anything - even on a lousy cassette player. Now, I have decent sound, but sometimes music feels ... too noisy - somehow it's "cluttered" to me and there are moments when I must switch it off. It, literally, can feel like a chore to have music on to listen to.
So, that stereotypical parent yelling at her (his) kid to turn down the music... it has a biological basis. I never yell about the noise or judge my kids' music, but, who knows? Maybe I've been saved from that fate just because I've seen the negative images of closed-minded parents and I've thought about what is happening in my brain.
To get to like new music, I guess usually I need to be exposed to it enough so that my brain feels the patterns. I have expanded my repertoire in the last couple of years, but in part it's through conscious effort. I've also found that hearing my son sing a song means there is a stronger chance that I'll really like to listen to it in the artists' recording.... Just the other day, a CD that P. recommended finally "clicked" for me, and I've listened to it a lot since then (Neutral Milk Hotel, In the Aeroplane Over the Sea). Hearing my brother-in-law sing his songs, with just the acoustic guitar, worked the same way.
And yet... yet... OFTEN I've chosen music for others because I heard it once on NPR. What's up with that? I'll hear something and I'll LIKE it right away, and it's incredibly gratifying when I make a good choice for someone (I'm mainly talking about my kids - because the exercise is fun because it works with an emotional connection between giver and receiver). I guess there is a different way of listening to something once and wanting it as a soundtrack to your life. Come to think of it, these music epiphanies (too strong a word, but I wanted to express a kind of instant revelation) may be happening mainly when I'm driving.
You know, my hubby doesn't like listening to music or radio when he's trying to fall asleep which, now that I think about it, has probably had an impact on me. What I do differently now, at 50, than I did at 15 is not stop. Stop. Listen. It's the type of listening you do when you want your mind to let go of the day.
So, what did I listen to when I cleaned the kitchen? I gave up on expanding my horizons and put on a compilation disk my son and I put together maybe 5 years ago with some of his favorites and some of mine. It has a song which he spent months recording himself (he layered his voice over and over, singing every part). I sometimes repeat just that track three, four, or who knows how many times in a row.
The kitchen's clean(ish) and I'm feeling a bit nostalgic.
Speaking of NPR, a guest once said that, in terms of music, after 30ish, we get stuck in our ways. Most people stop feeling the desire to listen to new sounds. For me, it's true, and that is a great thing about having children who like music. Both son and daughter get me music for Christmas or give me things to listen to. (My youngest, on the other hand, seems to prefer that I NOT like his music too much).
Here's the problem; I find it much much harder to listen to new music. When I was younger, it was normal to try out anything - even on a lousy cassette player. Now, I have decent sound, but sometimes music feels ... too noisy - somehow it's "cluttered" to me and there are moments when I must switch it off. It, literally, can feel like a chore to have music on to listen to.
So, that stereotypical parent yelling at her (his) kid to turn down the music... it has a biological basis. I never yell about the noise or judge my kids' music, but, who knows? Maybe I've been saved from that fate just because I've seen the negative images of closed-minded parents and I've thought about what is happening in my brain.
To get to like new music, I guess usually I need to be exposed to it enough so that my brain feels the patterns. I have expanded my repertoire in the last couple of years, but in part it's through conscious effort. I've also found that hearing my son sing a song means there is a stronger chance that I'll really like to listen to it in the artists' recording.... Just the other day, a CD that P. recommended finally "clicked" for me, and I've listened to it a lot since then (Neutral Milk Hotel, In the Aeroplane Over the Sea). Hearing my brother-in-law sing his songs, with just the acoustic guitar, worked the same way.
And yet... yet... OFTEN I've chosen music for others because I heard it once on NPR. What's up with that? I'll hear something and I'll LIKE it right away, and it's incredibly gratifying when I make a good choice for someone (I'm mainly talking about my kids - because the exercise is fun because it works with an emotional connection between giver and receiver). I guess there is a different way of listening to something once and wanting it as a soundtrack to your life. Come to think of it, these music epiphanies (too strong a word, but I wanted to express a kind of instant revelation) may be happening mainly when I'm driving.
You know, my hubby doesn't like listening to music or radio when he's trying to fall asleep which, now that I think about it, has probably had an impact on me. What I do differently now, at 50, than I did at 15 is not stop. Stop. Listen. It's the type of listening you do when you want your mind to let go of the day.
So, what did I listen to when I cleaned the kitchen? I gave up on expanding my horizons and put on a compilation disk my son and I put together maybe 5 years ago with some of his favorites and some of mine. It has a song which he spent months recording himself (he layered his voice over and over, singing every part). I sometimes repeat just that track three, four, or who knows how many times in a row.
The kitchen's clean(ish) and I'm feeling a bit nostalgic.
21 October 2010
"My" life
I'm so tired that I couldn't think of the word "vicarious" when I wrote the title - and I'm so busy, that I'm not going to edit at all. I just want to remember this time.
L. just dove into high school life, and I'm incredibly proud of him. I love his enthusiasm. He belongs (even though he's never been an "in" kid). This week is spirit week, and every day of the week he's gone all out with a costume - (on mismatch day, he even took about 7 miscellaneous bits of clothes to school so that any classmate who wasn't "mismatched" could get a point for the class). Today was famous person day (or superhero day). We didn't dedicate a lot of time to his "costume", but I did manage to scrounge up black pants, a green "tank top" - or at least a green t-shirt with the sleeves and neck cut off - boots - and a headband with a bit of black smudges on his face. He was a barely recognizable "rambo."
But, the point of this isn't to talk about spirit week. It's all about WHAT this week has been like in general... a week which culminated in a kind-of meltdown this morning at 6 a.m.
Yesterday he had after-school "soccer practice", but at 8 pm he hadn't gotten back home and I began to call around to look for him. Reached one of his good friend's mother on her cell, but she wasn't even in town. Ended up being a complicated chain of calls between her, her ex-husband, another mother, and I. The JV soccer team had gone to the varsity soccer game (on the bus) and then had come home to BEGIN practice at 7 p.m.
Friend's dad offered to bring L home; it was around 8:40 at this time. - -Instead of coming home though, L called (friend's phone, since he doesn't have a cell phone) a few minutes later to say that he was going to CHOIR practice. This is a choir that he didn't even KNOW that he was in until YESTERDAY during school. He auditioned for it on Monday. So... finally around 9:50 pm, he's walking in the door to have dinner.
He showered, then I feed him two burritos (LARGE). I'm trying to get an idea of what sort of homework he has during dinner, and whether there is any way I can help him get through it. They had had a lockdown during school that day after a suspicious backpack was found, and he had missed two classes, which made his homework situation a bit less clear. But, apparently only history and biology had to be done.
The bio homework was a big deal because it involved a pre-assignment for a test to be taken and he did poorly on the first test. He had to fill a page with notes, to turn in on Thursday and which the teacher would give back to him to use during Friday's test. I encouraged him to work at the kitchen table (don't lie down... in other words) but he migrated in steps to the inevitable laptop on the bed. Sigh... He just got a very old laptop that was left over from a project at dad's work - and it is so slow to work with, plus printing is a huge hassle (since it won't connect directly to the printer blah blah). In short, I knew that I was going to have to be up later than him or before him to help him get this on paper.
So, between about 10:15 and midnight I let him work - although at first I tried to give him advice and I warned him that I was going to shut him down around midnight. The test wasn't the next day, but the day after that - so, an all nighter could easily end up turning into two all-nighters. No, he just can't do that. He's still a minor, and I put my foot down.
It's a little bit of a digression, but, part of how exhausted I am is my interaction with L, where I "give advice" which I know could help him, but which he won't listen to. I struggle mightily to not let it become a power struggle or a fight. It's stressful to watch him ignore me. Sigh... if I were working, he would just have to figure it out by himself - and he would survive. Double sigh... The advice I gave him boiled down to very concrete things about how to prepare this exam "cheat sheet." 1) Sit at a desk rather than lie on your bed (ha ha); 2) Don't use a tiny font to fit millions of words on the page. 3) Put enough on the page to remind yourself of what you know.
A few minutes after midnight he had filled a half page with one solid paragraph of information typed from his text book (I think he'd covered about 1/4 of the textbook pages in question). He still had a page and a half to go (if he continued in this vein). I managed to get the laptop from him, said I'd get it printed out - He did NOT want to go to bed, but said he'd set his alarm for 4 a.m. to finish it. I said ok, figuring that if he was really exhausted, he wouldn't hear the alarm anyway. (As it was, he wasn't in bed until close to 1 a.m., I think).
At 6 a.m. this morning I woke him up. This was when the real melt down happened. Although to be fair, he never LOST it. He needed maybe 15 minutes to pull himself together enough to just do it (I hate that nike stole my phrase). During that 15 minutes, though, I got a lot of "disaster" type talk and some tears. Naturally, there was some blaming M E partly because I insisted that he go to bed at midnight but also for other things. For ex. I had typed his half page into the desktop - from which I can print directly. I'd cleaned it up - took out some repetition and some unnecessary words (no info.) and used larger fonts and highlighting so it would be easier to find the info. This was really awful according to L.
All this is why I know I need to try to let him figure these things out in general. At the moment, however, the most I could do was leave the room for a little while and TRY not to answer so he could focus on the task. He got going. I brought him hot chocolate (made him dictate to me for the 5 minutes while he drunk it). I left him again, but (how pathetic is this?) fifteen minutes later, I fed him a banana with peanut butter as he worked (no time for breakfast).
Bottom line, however, was that by 7:25, when he had to get ready for school. he was almost done. There were about 10 empty lines to fill on his "cheat sheet." He asked me if I would do it, and I said I'd wrap it up, print it, and drop it off at his school for him to pick up at lunch. I agreed to help him with the last few things if he promised to sit down with me to think about what could have been done better (I don't want him to plan his school days around the expectation that he'll be pulling all nighters.)
He got his rambo clothes on - and was in a better mood again. As he brushed his teeth, he asked me, "Would you be upset if I got a couple of Bs in the first term." I TRY so hard to answer in a way that doesn't BLESS this Plan B, so to speak, but that accepts that he is learning a lot and that life is more than those grades. He doesn't bother to ask for rides to school - I think he realizes that walking to school helps him get mentally ready. Plus, we're so close...(At the beginning of the year he was asking, and I put my foot down).
Wait, today he has whatever homework is still hanging over his head, after school he'll go to a meeting for "Model UN" THEN I have to meet him at school to drive him (and his friend) to the soccer game.
Tomorrow, he'll finish the week with this important bio test (he did badly on the first test of the year which is why it became more important than it had to be), go to soccer practice and then go to a dance at 7:30. Apparently he asked a girl but this is TOP secret.... So secret that I don't even have the official word - just rumors through the good old grapevine. So, I'll wrap up with a shout out to my spies and minions.
Damn, gotto look up directions to the school where he'll have his soccer meet.
L. just dove into high school life, and I'm incredibly proud of him. I love his enthusiasm. He belongs (even though he's never been an "in" kid). This week is spirit week, and every day of the week he's gone all out with a costume - (on mismatch day, he even took about 7 miscellaneous bits of clothes to school so that any classmate who wasn't "mismatched" could get a point for the class). Today was famous person day (or superhero day). We didn't dedicate a lot of time to his "costume", but I did manage to scrounge up black pants, a green "tank top" - or at least a green t-shirt with the sleeves and neck cut off - boots - and a headband with a bit of black smudges on his face. He was a barely recognizable "rambo."
But, the point of this isn't to talk about spirit week. It's all about WHAT this week has been like in general... a week which culminated in a kind-of meltdown this morning at 6 a.m.
Yesterday he had after-school "soccer practice", but at 8 pm he hadn't gotten back home and I began to call around to look for him. Reached one of his good friend's mother on her cell, but she wasn't even in town. Ended up being a complicated chain of calls between her, her ex-husband, another mother, and I. The JV soccer team had gone to the varsity soccer game (on the bus) and then had come home to BEGIN practice at 7 p.m.
Friend's dad offered to bring L home; it was around 8:40 at this time. - -Instead of coming home though, L called (friend's phone, since he doesn't have a cell phone) a few minutes later to say that he was going to CHOIR practice. This is a choir that he didn't even KNOW that he was in until YESTERDAY during school. He auditioned for it on Monday. So... finally around 9:50 pm, he's walking in the door to have dinner.
He showered, then I feed him two burritos (LARGE). I'm trying to get an idea of what sort of homework he has during dinner, and whether there is any way I can help him get through it. They had had a lockdown during school that day after a suspicious backpack was found, and he had missed two classes, which made his homework situation a bit less clear. But, apparently only history and biology had to be done.
The bio homework was a big deal because it involved a pre-assignment for a test to be taken and he did poorly on the first test. He had to fill a page with notes, to turn in on Thursday and which the teacher would give back to him to use during Friday's test. I encouraged him to work at the kitchen table (don't lie down... in other words) but he migrated in steps to the inevitable laptop on the bed. Sigh... He just got a very old laptop that was left over from a project at dad's work - and it is so slow to work with, plus printing is a huge hassle (since it won't connect directly to the printer blah blah). In short, I knew that I was going to have to be up later than him or before him to help him get this on paper.
So, between about 10:15 and midnight I let him work - although at first I tried to give him advice and I warned him that I was going to shut him down around midnight. The test wasn't the next day, but the day after that - so, an all nighter could easily end up turning into two all-nighters. No, he just can't do that. He's still a minor, and I put my foot down.
It's a little bit of a digression, but, part of how exhausted I am is my interaction with L, where I "give advice" which I know could help him, but which he won't listen to. I struggle mightily to not let it become a power struggle or a fight. It's stressful to watch him ignore me. Sigh... if I were working, he would just have to figure it out by himself - and he would survive. Double sigh... The advice I gave him boiled down to very concrete things about how to prepare this exam "cheat sheet." 1) Sit at a desk rather than lie on your bed (ha ha); 2) Don't use a tiny font to fit millions of words on the page. 3) Put enough on the page to remind yourself of what you know.
A few minutes after midnight he had filled a half page with one solid paragraph of information typed from his text book (I think he'd covered about 1/4 of the textbook pages in question). He still had a page and a half to go (if he continued in this vein). I managed to get the laptop from him, said I'd get it printed out - He did NOT want to go to bed, but said he'd set his alarm for 4 a.m. to finish it. I said ok, figuring that if he was really exhausted, he wouldn't hear the alarm anyway. (As it was, he wasn't in bed until close to 1 a.m., I think).
At 6 a.m. this morning I woke him up. This was when the real melt down happened. Although to be fair, he never LOST it. He needed maybe 15 minutes to pull himself together enough to just do it (I hate that nike stole my phrase). During that 15 minutes, though, I got a lot of "disaster" type talk and some tears. Naturally, there was some blaming M E partly because I insisted that he go to bed at midnight but also for other things. For ex. I had typed his half page into the desktop - from which I can print directly. I'd cleaned it up - took out some repetition and some unnecessary words (no info.) and used larger fonts and highlighting so it would be easier to find the info. This was really awful according to L.
All this is why I know I need to try to let him figure these things out in general. At the moment, however, the most I could do was leave the room for a little while and TRY not to answer so he could focus on the task. He got going. I brought him hot chocolate (made him dictate to me for the 5 minutes while he drunk it). I left him again, but (how pathetic is this?) fifteen minutes later, I fed him a banana with peanut butter as he worked (no time for breakfast).
Bottom line, however, was that by 7:25, when he had to get ready for school. he was almost done. There were about 10 empty lines to fill on his "cheat sheet." He asked me if I would do it, and I said I'd wrap it up, print it, and drop it off at his school for him to pick up at lunch. I agreed to help him with the last few things if he promised to sit down with me to think about what could have been done better (I don't want him to plan his school days around the expectation that he'll be pulling all nighters.)
He got his rambo clothes on - and was in a better mood again. As he brushed his teeth, he asked me, "Would you be upset if I got a couple of Bs in the first term." I TRY so hard to answer in a way that doesn't BLESS this Plan B, so to speak, but that accepts that he is learning a lot and that life is more than those grades. He doesn't bother to ask for rides to school - I think he realizes that walking to school helps him get mentally ready. Plus, we're so close...(At the beginning of the year he was asking, and I put my foot down).
Wait, today he has whatever homework is still hanging over his head, after school he'll go to a meeting for "Model UN" THEN I have to meet him at school to drive him (and his friend) to the soccer game.
Tomorrow, he'll finish the week with this important bio test (he did badly on the first test of the year which is why it became more important than it had to be), go to soccer practice and then go to a dance at 7:30. Apparently he asked a girl but this is TOP secret.... So secret that I don't even have the official word - just rumors through the good old grapevine. So, I'll wrap up with a shout out to my spies and minions.
Damn, gotto look up directions to the school where he'll have his soccer meet.
25 September 2010
material guy
I never thought that I would do this, but last week I accepted it when my son refused to wear an almost new sweater which he had picked out toward the end of last winter. He doesn't like it anymore. I've always felt uneasy about how much modern parents (at least a lot of us) indulge our children. Don't get me started ...
On the other hand, in this specific case of the "unwearable" sweater, it's not like this kid was asking me to buy an expensive new replacement. He just decided not to wear any sweater until we could drag some boxes of winter clothes out. So, later that week I bought him a $20 zip-up "hoodie", plain gray, period. He wasn't with me and, luckily, he was very happy to receive it... In justice, he's grown a ton since last winter, and I was going to have to invest in new clothes for him anyway. So, what's the big deal - Why am I even writing this? He's no spoiled brat.
What makes this non-event even blog worthy is that it made me think about myself (me me me). I worry. It's so important to avoid spoiling our kids - to prepare them for the "real world." Bottom line: unwise/unnecessary spending is a trap. Hmmm... how to explain? Without stamping out their own "look" or being adamant about my opinion, I guide them toward the "don't want to waste my time and $$ worrying about this stuff"* camp...
Ha ha...you say, "You can only say that because you don't have a daughter." Well, I admit it's probably easier. But, I do have a daughter (my hubby's) and I love her dearly - and, yes, she's a clothes hog - but not a fashion snob. Oh God, what would I have done with a fashion snob??? ... Aright already, I now remember... I confess. When she first came to live with us - I struggled mightily with the contradiction between her picky taste** and my core suspicion of fashion, consumerism, and ... hair-gel. Ha ha.
She'd offer to give L hairdos involving gel or spray, I'm sure I made panicked faces to her-- behind his back -- with my, oh so subtle, message: "Let's not get too carried away on this path..." She had some fun with him, but she also humored me (thanks V).
Let me digress a little more from the "topic" of today's sermon. Nowadays, I've learned how to choose clothes for V and she's started paying for most of her own anyway. In fact, the funny (is it ironic?) part is that I like to buy her a treat because I CAN kind of predict what she'll like. But, I've actually forced myself to stop, because she has so many clothes in so little space that she has little idea of where, what, when, or how. She can leave a pile of dirty clothes in the basement for months... so I have to conclude that maybe she doesn't need any more clothes. sigh...
And that brings me to the point of, seriously, how much can a mother really determine?
My older son rarely refused to wear anything. I bought home clothes (often used) that I thought would fit.*** Anyway, this frugal fashion approach allowed me to feel smug in terms of how I compared to those who were shelling out big-time for children's clothes. Now I see... the credit is his.
He and I have talked about it recently and he says that he was clueless about "social" things. Specifically, his fashion sense also reflects the fact that he lived overseas for years and wore a school uniform and didn't belong to any "in" group. When we first got back to the US (he was in 8th grade) he angrily told me one day, after he'd been teased on the school playground, that he wouldn't wear any more tightish (fitted) pants. But that was probably as far as his fashion voice went for years.
He had better things to think about, although not his PE locker combination. I found out later why he wore shorts practically all winter long one year. He couldn't open his gym locker, and shorts were mandatory for gym.
The first hint of strong fashion opinion was when he vetoed a shirt; he was 17. This was a free shirt I'd found in the clothing bin in the parking lot of the grocery store (yes, I admit it - but I washed it all very carefully before anything else). This epoch forming shirt was a short sleeved, button down, yellow and orange plaid. And, if you're shaking your head in wonder that any mother would give such a shirt to her high schooler, back off - it was cotton. I'm almost 100% sure about that. Anyway, while the shirt was eventually ousted, the truth is, I think P. wore it with no qualms until his first real girlfriend began to questionmy his fashion choices.
I really liked that plaid shirt (it was a brownish orange).
________________________________________________________________
FOOTNOTES
* And as I've gotten older, I think I'm more open-minded about this "camp." I'm almost Darwinian about it. But it doesn't change the fundamentals of what I'm saying: it still feels like a trap for the gullible or less aware.
** picky taste is not the same thing as being a fashion snob, but it does imply that things had to be "just so" and this often involved something that cost more... In spite of my obvious ambivalence, I want to say that I never begrudged her taste, or resented it if she didn't like something I chose. I remember really really well one Christmas my little sister and I got coats as our main Christmas gift. I was probably 15. Well, I found mine to be hideous (reddish, with a brown fur-like thing on the hood). When I didn't wear it, my own step mother said something disapproving about me and told me how expensive it had been! So, that's the thing - I totally understand taste at that age. It isn't about me being controlling or cheap (not that I'm saying that I don't have these, and many other, bad qualities). It really is about being able to understand and manage the cost of our fashion choices - that's what I want to give my children.
*** most embarrassing used clothing story for me, (I was really poor at the time). I would buy him used dark blue pants in the US (Goodwill, garage sales, etc.) for the Costa Rican school uniform. One year I bought a pair with a very clear line of faded cloth down the front of each leg (where the crease ran). They were in good shape, though, and so I thought I could disguise the fade-line. I colored it in carefully with a pen... Subtle, I thought, until I saw him walking with his class in an independence day parade in the bright sunlight.
On the other hand, in this specific case of the "unwearable" sweater, it's not like this kid was asking me to buy an expensive new replacement. He just decided not to wear any sweater until we could drag some boxes of winter clothes out. So, later that week I bought him a $20 zip-up "hoodie", plain gray, period. He wasn't with me and, luckily, he was very happy to receive it... In justice, he's grown a ton since last winter, and I was going to have to invest in new clothes for him anyway. So, what's the big deal - Why am I even writing this? He's no spoiled brat.
What makes this non-event even blog worthy is that it made me think about myself (me me me). I worry. It's so important to avoid spoiling our kids - to prepare them for the "real world." Bottom line: unwise/unnecessary spending is a trap. Hmmm... how to explain? Without stamping out their own "look" or being adamant about my opinion, I guide them toward the "don't want to waste my time and $$ worrying about this stuff"* camp...
Ha ha...you say, "You can only say that because you don't have a daughter." Well, I admit it's probably easier. But, I do have a daughter (my hubby's) and I love her dearly - and, yes, she's a clothes hog - but not a fashion snob. Oh God, what would I have done with a fashion snob??? ... Aright already, I now remember... I confess. When she first came to live with us - I struggled mightily with the contradiction between her picky taste** and my core suspicion of fashion, consumerism, and ... hair-gel. Ha ha.
She'd offer to give L hairdos involving gel or spray, I'm sure I made panicked faces to her-- behind his back -- with my, oh so subtle, message: "Let's not get too carried away on this path..." She had some fun with him, but she also humored me (thanks V).
Let me digress a little more from the "topic" of today's sermon. Nowadays, I've learned how to choose clothes for V and she's started paying for most of her own anyway. In fact, the funny (is it ironic?) part is that I like to buy her a treat because I CAN kind of predict what she'll like. But, I've actually forced myself to stop, because she has so many clothes in so little space that she has little idea of where, what, when, or how. She can leave a pile of dirty clothes in the basement for months... so I have to conclude that maybe she doesn't need any more clothes. sigh...
And that brings me to the point of, seriously, how much can a mother really determine?
My older son rarely refused to wear anything. I bought home clothes (often used) that I thought would fit.*** Anyway, this frugal fashion approach allowed me to feel smug in terms of how I compared to those who were shelling out big-time for children's clothes. Now I see... the credit is his.
He and I have talked about it recently and he says that he was clueless about "social" things. Specifically, his fashion sense also reflects the fact that he lived overseas for years and wore a school uniform and didn't belong to any "in" group. When we first got back to the US (he was in 8th grade) he angrily told me one day, after he'd been teased on the school playground, that he wouldn't wear any more tightish (fitted) pants. But that was probably as far as his fashion voice went for years.
He had better things to think about, although not his PE locker combination. I found out later why he wore shorts practically all winter long one year. He couldn't open his gym locker, and shorts were mandatory for gym.
The first hint of strong fashion opinion was when he vetoed a shirt; he was 17. This was a free shirt I'd found in the clothing bin in the parking lot of the grocery store (yes, I admit it - but I washed it all very carefully before anything else). This epoch forming shirt was a short sleeved, button down, yellow and orange plaid. And, if you're shaking your head in wonder that any mother would give such a shirt to her high schooler, back off - it was cotton. I'm almost 100% sure about that. Anyway, while the shirt was eventually ousted, the truth is, I think P. wore it with no qualms until his first real girlfriend began to question
I really liked that plaid shirt (it was a brownish orange).
________________________________________________________________
FOOTNOTES
* And as I've gotten older, I think I'm more open-minded about this "camp." I'm almost Darwinian about it. But it doesn't change the fundamentals of what I'm saying: it still feels like a trap for the gullible or less aware.
** picky taste is not the same thing as being a fashion snob, but it does imply that things had to be "just so" and this often involved something that cost more... In spite of my obvious ambivalence, I want to say that I never begrudged her taste, or resented it if she didn't like something I chose. I remember really really well one Christmas my little sister and I got coats as our main Christmas gift. I was probably 15. Well, I found mine to be hideous (reddish, with a brown fur-like thing on the hood). When I didn't wear it, my own step mother said something disapproving about me and told me how expensive it had been! So, that's the thing - I totally understand taste at that age. It isn't about me being controlling or cheap (not that I'm saying that I don't have these, and many other, bad qualities). It really is about being able to understand and manage the cost of our fashion choices - that's what I want to give my children.
*** most embarrassing used clothing story for me, (I was really poor at the time). I would buy him used dark blue pants in the US (Goodwill, garage sales, etc.) for the Costa Rican school uniform. One year I bought a pair with a very clear line of faded cloth down the front of each leg (where the crease ran). They were in good shape, though, and so I thought I could disguise the fade-line. I colored it in carefully with a pen... Subtle, I thought, until I saw him walking with his class in an independence day parade in the bright sunlight.
14 September 2010
More thoughts on paradise... Costa Rican development and tourism
Anyway, back to the question of paradise. In spite of all the problems of a third world nation, I was impressed by the commitment to the environment that I saw in Costa Rica. Being part of a small population must give one a sense that one's efforts can have a real impact - I heard someone in San Jose talk about how a gold mining company had been harassed and prevented from investing by those crazy environmentalists* (The comment was made by a Costa Rican who wanted more development). But the truth is that gold mining, as I've heard it described, has some incredibly negative associations. When you look at the environmental and economic legacy of industrial gold mining, things like contamination with mercury or cyanide spring to mind. I've also read that the tonnage of earth that has to be moved to find minuscule amounts of gold is ___ (hmm... I'll look it up and insert it later - but the ratio leads one to doubt the morality of gold as jewelry or even as currency).
On the other hand, way back in the mid-80s, when I lived in Costa Rica, the government was struggling to keep small scale gold prospectors from destroying protected land in a national park near Golfito (Corcovado). If I'm remembering correctly, the prospectors used water at high pressure to just denude the land... No need to romanticize artisan gold mining, it can be very damaging also.
My point is that, rather than being a simple black and white issue of "keep all mining investment out", IF citizens are able to force a large company to play by fair rules, in the end, this may leave the country better off than a sort of wild-west gold rush event. The large international corporations are easier targets for the ire of locals. Whatever their specific gripe (labor conditions, environmental damage, unfavorable concessions), nationalism allows alliances between sometimes unlikely partners. While I'm no fan of unthinking nationalism, this type of protest can lead to positive reforms for labor or the environment; i.e. it's easier, in a democracy, to pressure and shame a large corporation to change than it is to stop abuses by local producers (especially when you're dealing with fragile economies).
So, Costa Ricans are determined to design their own style of development, and I support that. Tourism has been an incredible boon to the ability to just say NO to some international corporations, but tourism itself is, at best, a mixed blessing. This reminds me of a phone conversation I overheard in the pulperia (small neighborhood shop) near the school where L studied English. I thought the guy's prices were a tad high, and after this conversation I knew why (assuming he wasn't just charging us extra for being foreigners); he was about to invest in a friend's tourism venture (restaurant/hotel). How do you keep the country's most beautiful areas from being over-developed, while still allowing the average Costa Rican to feel as though tourism can be a ticket to well-being?
Anyway, from a purely personal perspective, the frustrating thing I found (as the type of tourist who hopes that her tourism dollars go to improve the lot of Costa Ricans, and allow the nation to continue to support a green agenda in general) was that so many of the souvenirs were "hecho en la China", even things that surely could have been made by Costa Ricans: coffee mugs, decks of playing cards, watch bands, textiles, jewelry, you name it. I had to make a special effort to find local products. And this was true even in the airport stores selling relatively expensive knick knacks to tourists; a saw an employee holding up a nice piece of textile with a coastal/beach motif. He was holding it up for someone else, and like a spoil-sport I asked if it was made in Costa Rica. He said, "Yes," but I looked for the tag which said ... either Indonesia or the Philippines, I can't remember. The worst case, though, (not that I did much shopping or touring) was the very expensive gift store at the site of the teleferico tour near the national park Braulio Carrillo; at least half of the items for sale were from China, and it just seems more galling because this is a private company that touts it's commitment to the country's ecology.
* During this (2010) conversation about environmentalists' opposition, I remembered reading about a similar case in an old textbook which, miraculously, I was able to find when I got home. In 2002, Costa Ricans successfully organized to stop Harken Energy (Texas) from off-shore drilling. That year the new president said that Costa Rica could not be "an oil enclave or land of open-pit mining." (Global Studies: Latin America, 11th ed. McGraw Hill, 2004, p. 198; It was originally from an article by Mark Engler & Nadia Martinez in New Internationalist, October 2003).
On the other hand, way back in the mid-80s, when I lived in Costa Rica, the government was struggling to keep small scale gold prospectors from destroying protected land in a national park near Golfito (Corcovado). If I'm remembering correctly, the prospectors used water at high pressure to just denude the land... No need to romanticize artisan gold mining, it can be very damaging also.
My point is that, rather than being a simple black and white issue of "keep all mining investment out", IF citizens are able to force a large company to play by fair rules, in the end, this may leave the country better off than a sort of wild-west gold rush event. The large international corporations are easier targets for the ire of locals. Whatever their specific gripe (labor conditions, environmental damage, unfavorable concessions), nationalism allows alliances between sometimes unlikely partners. While I'm no fan of unthinking nationalism, this type of protest can lead to positive reforms for labor or the environment; i.e. it's easier, in a democracy, to pressure and shame a large corporation to change than it is to stop abuses by local producers (especially when you're dealing with fragile economies).
So, Costa Ricans are determined to design their own style of development, and I support that. Tourism has been an incredible boon to the ability to just say NO to some international corporations, but tourism itself is, at best, a mixed blessing. This reminds me of a phone conversation I overheard in the pulperia (small neighborhood shop) near the school where L studied English. I thought the guy's prices were a tad high, and after this conversation I knew why (assuming he wasn't just charging us extra for being foreigners); he was about to invest in a friend's tourism venture (restaurant/hotel). How do you keep the country's most beautiful areas from being over-developed, while still allowing the average Costa Rican to feel as though tourism can be a ticket to well-being?
Anyway, from a purely personal perspective, the frustrating thing I found (as the type of tourist who hopes that her tourism dollars go to improve the lot of Costa Ricans, and allow the nation to continue to support a green agenda in general) was that so many of the souvenirs were "hecho en la China", even things that surely could have been made by Costa Ricans: coffee mugs, decks of playing cards, watch bands, textiles, jewelry, you name it. I had to make a special effort to find local products. And this was true even in the airport stores selling relatively expensive knick knacks to tourists; a saw an employee holding up a nice piece of textile with a coastal/beach motif. He was holding it up for someone else, and like a spoil-sport I asked if it was made in Costa Rica. He said, "Yes," but I looked for the tag which said ... either Indonesia or the Philippines, I can't remember. The worst case, though, (not that I did much shopping or touring) was the very expensive gift store at the site of the teleferico tour near the national park Braulio Carrillo; at least half of the items for sale were from China, and it just seems more galling because this is a private company that touts it's commitment to the country's ecology.
* During this (2010) conversation about environmentalists' opposition, I remembered reading about a similar case in an old textbook which, miraculously, I was able to find when I got home. In 2002, Costa Ricans successfully organized to stop Harken Energy (Texas) from off-shore drilling. That year the new president said that Costa Rica could not be "an oil enclave or land of open-pit mining." (Global Studies: Latin America, 11th ed. McGraw Hill, 2004, p. 198; It was originally from an article by Mark Engler & Nadia Martinez in New Internationalist, October 2003).
13 September 2010
Paradise?
This is on land that OQ and his wife own near Golfito. Their plan is to preserve it as a wildlife refuge, and they were hoping to buy more land nearby to put together some sort of ecologically viable wildlife corridor/refuge. Apparently, they wrote up a proposal and got some sort of grant from an international organization but, as O explained it to me, they figured out their idea was unfeasible after finding out how much $$ people were asking for local land. In the end, they turned the grant down. Sad, no? Apparently the real estate frenzy is affecting paradises far and wide.
But, no parking lots on this paradise, anyway - We had to hike to this spot!
True, it was only about 12 minutes from where O parked his vehicle on a dirt road; still, it was a challenge to the mothers and at least one of the boys. On the way back, as I recall, some of us took an adventurous route up the mountain side, while others took a longer tamer route... There may have been a rescue involved. It's all a blur now. In this vein, I simply can't resist... I have to post one more picture; here's our good friend who braved this adventure with us (below). Because he's not my son, I've blocked out his face (pretty bizarre effect, huh?). I just love the pose... for some reason it's making me remember how my sisters and I used to perform "Tiptoe through the tulips." I've named the photo "Mud meets flip flops" or "El Barro contra Las Chanclas."
PS - Many thanks go to wildlife photographer "D" who risked life, limb and scorn to get these shots. Check out the fantastic detail in the mud.
09 September 2010
nuke your brain
About a month ago I went to a movie with L and a friend. Before the film there was a preview of a movie about a girl who pretends to have sex with high school boys who need help to fit in. We got to see this preview two days in a row because we were at the movie theater two days in a row (no, not normal for us either).
I mention that last fact because it helps explain why L was prepared to respond so succinctly to this preview.
In one scene the girl and her mother are having a heart-to-heart. The mother says she also had a bad reputation in high school.
Daughter asks, "Why?"
Mom replies that she "slept with a lot of people, mostly guys."
Daughter, "Mo-om!" She sounds a bit shocked, but it's not really the right response...
So, I felt a bit nauseous after seeing this "funny" scene the first day. But I guess I wasn't the only one; the second day, L said in a loud voice to his friend, "If my mom said that to me, I'd nuke my brain." He actually got a laugh from someone behind us in the theater.
I mention that last fact because it helps explain why L was prepared to respond so succinctly to this preview.
In one scene the girl and her mother are having a heart-to-heart. The mother says she also had a bad reputation in high school.
Daughter asks, "Why?"
Mom replies that she "slept with a lot of people, mostly guys."
Daughter, "Mo-om!" She sounds a bit shocked, but it's not really the right response...
So, I felt a bit nauseous after seeing this "funny" scene the first day. But I guess I wasn't the only one; the second day, L said in a loud voice to his friend, "If my mom said that to me, I'd nuke my brain." He actually got a laugh from someone behind us in the theater.
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