Family

Five years ago a young dad was playing in the surf in Mexico. Swept away by a strong rip tide he had no chance of survival. He left behind a young daughter and a loving wife.

Last week tragically, against all odds, the wife, now 47, became ill with flu-like symptoms. Raging through her body like wildfire she was rushed to the emergency room. Unable to fight off the infection, four hours later, she was gone...

...leaving a ten-year old orphan. And a grieving family...lots of family. And that is what this blog is about.

Six siblings, half living in Indiana, half in Haiti. Mom and Dad co-founders of a school for Haitian youth 30 years ago. Nieces, nephews, their husbands and wives, and their children. Lots of children. All converging on eastern Kentucky for a funeral.

But it is not about this family that this blog is about either. It is about the family that was not related by birth but by spirit. The family of friends and co-workers who dropped everything to care for this family.

One couple, in Montana for the winter, called back to tell others to open up their home in eastern Kentucky and prepare it for the family and get the heat turned back on. Five bedrooms took care of the immediate family. Church members welcomed the nieces and nephews and kids into their homes. No one needed a hotel room. Met at the airport, the Haitian contingent was whisked away to the home for rest and refreshment. The kitchen was stocked, many said over-stocked.

Transportation would not be a problem. Two vans were rented and the proper number of child seats installed for the group. A team of volunteers was ready to take over child care responsibilities. An attorney volunteered to help with all legal matters. A physician stepped up to be on call for anything medical the family needed.

There was nothing left to do but spend the time grieving and celebrating a life too quickly gone and too rapidly lived.

This is the church in action. It should not even be a story, it should be so common place as to shrug a shoulder and think, "Well, of course they took care."

For those of you reading this post with little, no, or anti-religion biases, it's not written to sway you about the glorious practices of a church. Just this one. And I won't try to explain or justify the cosmic reasoning behind this unfair and tragic event except to write that we live in a very dark and dangerous world...for a time.

And that's what I think about it.

Toddlers and Tiaras

It's finally happened. I have arrived...in my own mind. A friend emailed me and asked when I was going to post another blog. Really, she did! Wanted to read more of my thoughts about random things. And so I oblige...her and any other reader who happens to be surfing through blogdom.

My nieces, sisters, in the Boston area are watching Toddlers and Tiaras on TV. One of them has two little girls. Through the magic of Facebook, we can watch and comment on the insanity that takes place on this show. I think, and that's what this blog is all about - what I think, that these parents should be investigated for child abuse. One parent nearly forcing Mountain Dew down her daughter's throat, another allowing unlimited ingestion of pixie sticks, those straw-like candies filled with sugar. Why? So the caffeine in these treats will hype the toddlers up and make them 'sparkle and shine' when they get on stage.

Naturally, at a certain age, kids' teeth fall out. Not to worry. Two thousand dollar "flippers" are purchased to cover the gaps.

Hair too thin for the runway? Not to worry. Wigs that would make Dolly Parton jealous.

Fifteen hundred dollar dresses custom-ordered for pageants.

At the age of six, one little one appears for an interview on camera and announces, with what can only be called a smirk and with great smugness, "I'm goin' beat that Tiffany because I am so much prettier than she is."

Parents hire pageant coaches for their daughters, women who come to their homes and teach the kids how to walk, turn, place their arms, throw kisses. And smile, can't forget the smile, the never-ending smile.

The prizes range from sashes to crowns (tiaras); the crowns tend to get higher and higher, becoming half the height of the child. Showing to one contestant's bedroom, she and her mother show the special shelves and cabinets that have been hand-crafted by dad to hold the winnings.

Who attends these pageants, you might rightfully ask. Panning the audience at any one of these, held in ballrooms of hotels, one sees mostly the parents of other contestants and dozens of empty seats.

In the hallway one hears verbal battles between tired, over-caffeinated children and pushy, demanding mothers (dads tend to be absent), the moms reminding the kids how much they, the moms, have sacrificed in dollars and time to get them to this pageant and the kids whining that they don't ever want to do another pageant.

Once I heard an 8-year old tell the interviewer that her sister, a 6-year old would probably do better than she would at the next pageant because, as she had been told by her mother, "My sister is much prettier than me."

It would make a great research project, these kids. One could track them for ten, fifteen years say, and find out just how well-adjusted they become as adults. One could research their value system, their world view, their contribution being made to society.

Little I would guess. Sad adults, beauty fading, those around wanting substance over style. On this low note I'll sign off. That's what I think about it.

Next time: Dance Moms...just kidding.