Daddy's flown across the ocean
Leaving just a memory
A snapshot in the family album
Daddy, what else did you leave for me?
Daddy, what'd ya leave behind for me?
All in all, it was just a brick in the wall
All in all, it was all just bricks in the wall
— Another Brick in the Wall, Pink Floyd
Not sure what I’d call the rap poetry coming out of me in the last few years — other than some form of regurgitated art therapy. I am not a blank canvas like a child. Brain is full at times. It just works that way as you become an adult. No matter how much you pray, walk, breathe, try.
But this past weekend I became “artfully undone” again after witnessing a child’s fear on an upper middle class soccer field — over a sticker.
There is a time and a season for everything. I feel it’s a time to decide how to save young children — in one big area : Politics. Blessed children — living under a decent roof, food on the table, school to attend, access to digital stuff, decent clothes on their backs, shoes — and perhaps hard working parents, and/or a stay-at-home parent, who takes them to soccer, baseball and dance all week long, including weekends. I know. We did it. Art, piano, soccer. Three kids. One thing each. Not every season. No travel ball for us. We did commute to a whole other county, for four years, to an art high school. Ouch.
We live across from a baseball field now. We see the crazies, and can barely get out of the driveway due to large, very expensive SUVs blocking our view. Smiling, waving hello often, I see parents scrambling up and down the block towing modern versions of giant radio flyers stuffed with expensive chairs, umbrellas, ice-chests, four kids and plenty of snacks.
This is what an average child’s life looks like in America.
Whether we are in the middle, poor or rich, no elementary age child needs to adopt their parent’s political fears, especially while they are living a completely blessed life and/or struggling to be a child. Questions and deeper conversations will come as they age appropriately. And even then, they should be allowed to use their free-thinking minds — and do their own research.
My tiny mum, pictured above, in little squared images, lived through World War II just outside of London.
Her world from three to nine years old, during two Blitzes:
“Mickey Mouse” Gas Mask used most days
Steel Morrison Shelter inside the house where she would stay most of the day while my nana worked.
Abandoned by father by eight, (prior — he was never home, serving and cheating on my Nana)
Vulnerable
Chronic asthma
Her mum worked by day in a bomb factory to make ends meet
A neighbor “looking out for her” took advantage of her.
Food rationing. Children also had their own ration books.
School obliterated by the Nazis when she turned six and was set to begin her education.
By high school mum and nana lived in a 14 ft. trailer. At 21, mum got ready for her wedding day in there, with no shower or bath. Just a little sink for a wash.
As a small child, it was hard enough for my mum to comprehend what was happening in the middle of total chaos and evil. It’s always been hard enough for kids living with a family crisis, sickness, abuse, bad neighborhoods, social media, bullying, etc. So — for as long as “a kid can be a kid” is the only answer toward a better future. If small children are breaking down over a political hat, t-shirt or sticker (no bad words. just normal merch we’ve seen for the last billion years) when out in public, then what does this say about the direction of unnecessary mental health issues? It says a lot.
It’s frightening. And irresponsible.
Blessed parents are there to teach a balance of kindness, gratitude, integrity, generosity, character and safety. To teach how we can pray for those who rub us wrong and move on with our life, working hard and doing our best. Yes, leaders can be really rude and I don’t like it. I have no problem correcting rudeness when it’s done in front of me or in front of a child. It’s a good conversation. Kids can be rude. In fact many are downright mean. Adults can be very rude and mean. Kids watch. We should all step back and check the plank in our own eye. A lot. Maybe every ten minutes.
We are not there to teach small children “sides,” (anywhere, any time), fear and worry. This is the one season they actually have a chance at sleeping sound.
Whether the classroom or at home. It’s wrong. It’s been wrong for a long time now.
This is my artful protest to what I witnessed over the weekend. I did not know how to wrap my head around it. Sometimes I feel like this isn’t rocket science — but we are here.
Another brick in the wall and not even out of elementary school.
Parents offloading their trash in our gutter and offloading their adult thoughts to six year olds.
Stop it.
Be the leader you desire.
Eat your meat.
Then stuff some pudding in your mouth.
Leave them kids alone.
Make mental health better.
ox
