When do You Get the Privilege?

There are a couple of interesting debates that I am following. One has to do with lowering the drinking age from 21-years old to 18-years old. The argument is that a young person who is able to serve his or her country in the military, vote for our president, get married and/or have a child might have a right to buy a beer.

The flip side of this (and the irony is not lost on me) is people who want to up the age to get a driver's licence.

Just like every other phase of life, some people are more mature and certainly more responsible. If I had the answer, I might run for office.

In our state, we're also debating a bill that would allow liquor to be sold on Sunday. It's been amended so many times that now you can order a drink in a restaurant or in a sports facility but you can't walk into a store and buy a case of beer. This makes no sense to anyone but all the politicos are rallying.

Hindsight is 20/20. I'm not one of those 15- or 16-year olds waiting to have the freedom of a driver's license. I've never been in the military and I'm so thankful no one put a rifle in my hand at 18-years old. The Sunday liquor law is annoying and I do understand the loss of revenue but of all the problems in this state and this country, this little tidbit doesn't come close to making my top ten.

The Age Old Debate

It's interesting that the nomination of Sarah Palin as a vice presidential candidate has reignited the debate about whether women can have it all: marriage, career, family. Of course I have an opinion but in the interest of full disclosure:

I have never run for public office.
I have never sought power, only a decent living and recognition for work well done.
I have never had a pregnant teenage daughter.
I have never had a "special needs" child. (I hate this term. Show me the child that doesn't have special needs.)
I have never put my career ahead of my family but maybe I should have.
I have never said goodbye to a child headed off to serve our country in a foreign land.
I don't own a gun and I've never shot a moose.

I have almost zero in common with Sarah Palin. It doesn't stop me from studying her. And as a feminist, I admire lots of women, on both sides of the political arena, who choose to serve in government positions. It looks dreadful to me.

We had an interesting debate the other night. A group of people, fresh from seeing our friend sworn into a federal judgeship, talking about the election and the candidates. It got a little animated.

Vice presidents serve in different ways. Some are confidants and trusted advisers. Others are sent to state funerals and marking time in case the president dies.

The debate rages on. I think some women do have it all but they have a strong support network and we never cover the sacrifices they have made.

Frankly, the little I know about Sarah Palin's life exhausts me. But I'm watching.

Oh, I Could Never Tell My Parents That!

In my childhood, my mother was the Sergeant and I was the private-in-training. She took this job seriously and I am grateful. We tangled, we fussed and we certainly had our years of tussles.

I'm not sure how she did it. She let me go from the child she was responsible for to a friend. To his credit, my father was and is a great buffer.

Lots of my friends are close with their parents. They love them and care for them. I try to do the same and I know I make them crazy sometimes. My mother still falls into drill Sergeant mode and I still become the rebellious child. (This is usually when one of us hangs up.)

We have our own version of communication. If I do something stupid or embarrassing, I tell my mother and she tells my father. If I'm scared, I do not hesitate to tell them. If I'm angry, I like to tell my mother because I'm convinced she has some magical powers and maybe she can put the whammy on them.

We're all clued in that we talk about each other. If I'm with my father, my mother is certain we are dissecting her. When she says to me, "your father and I were talking last night." I get a little nervous. My father gave up long ago -- he knows we discuss him.

I've tried to figure out how this works and I think it comes down to brutal honesty and wacky humor. When my father had a bad reaction (not life-threatening) to a medication last week, my mother described it to me in detail. I laughed so hard the husband was considering CPR.

Patriotism

Wearing a flag pin does not automatically make you a proud American. I'm a little sick of people berating Obama when he forgets to wear it. I'm sicker when he actually does it. I'm convinced he's just appeasing the media and the critics. We had this congresswoman whose entire wardrobe was flag attire. I thought it was fake and disrespectful.

In my Leave It To Beaver childhood, we said the pledge of allegiance every morning. There was a flag in the classroom and we put our palm over our heart as we recited. We were taught to stand for the national anthem. No hats were allowed.

Maybe I've spent too much time around military people. It is my right to criticize or question the actions of my government. It is also my duty to respect this country and all who have fought for our freedoms. I have been known to jab a complete stranger at a ball game. "Quit fiddling with your beer. Stand up. Take your hat off."

Most people oblige but occasionally I wonder why no one has slapped me.

Please Stand Up Straight

My parents were pretty big on posture. In my years of ballet, I learned that you can't perform any of the steps without your spine in alignment. As a result, I prefer straight-back chairs. I rarely recline on a plane. The seat position in my car could be classified as military straight.

I continue to torture the baby. He's an adult (sort of) and he probably doesn't appreciate my poking. To his credit, he does respond.

There seems to be an inordinate amount of young people who have settled into slumping. They also like to wear hoodie sweatshirts with the hood up -- regardless of the weather. I can't guess if they're cold, trying to be incognito or getting ready to rob a convenience store. Since we lost the Captain and his Unabomber costume, I no longer allow this in my house. Again, we bent the rules for the Captain and allowed him to wear a baseball cap in the house. Those days are over; the husband goes a little crazy over this one.

Yes, I am sounding like an oldie. Yes, these are minor things in the general scheme of things. But, if we start with the little things and take it one step at a time, maybe the bigger things won't seem so difficult.

Contacts

This is not about your vision. It's about your ability to find whomever you need.

Beyond my magic black book with all of my friends and family's contact info, I keep several rather extensive contact lists:

Clients and previous clients,
Vendors and suppliers,
Household, i.e. plumber, electrician, etc.,
Doctors (I have always known how to reach my doctors but I made a much larger list when the oldies were in our care.)

One of my rules is I refuse to do business with anyone, especially a physician, who will not give me his or her cell phone or home phone number. I have yet to run across a professional person who will not comply. I'm a pretty cautious person and I will not call any of these people at home unless absolutely necessary. When it's necessary, I don't want to waste time.

Because this is an election year, I'm super attuned to politics. Your hot buttons may not be mine, but I hope you know them. Do you know how to reach:

The President (or at least, the White House,)
Your Governor,
Your Mayor,
Your Senators,
Your House Representative?

In your state, do you know how to reach:

Your Prosecutor,
Your Secretary of State,
Your Chief of Police,
The Editor of your local paper?

If you have children in school, do you know how to reach:

The Superintendent and members of the school board,
The principal of your child's school,
Your child's teachers?

Lots of us are complaining about gas prices, the economy, education, our service people in Iraq and Afghanistan, the dismal state of social security, taxes, etc. Maybe it's just pot holes on your street. Many of these people are elected officials. Even the ones who are not elected still want to hear from the people.

Do you let them know what you think? If you're reading this, you have access to the Internet. All of this information is available online.

A Trained Killer

Until the Belle died, I lived with three military people. The military regimen is about as foreign to me as getting a tattoo or jumping out of an airplane.

Military stories make me weepy. I can hardly watch or read them.

My cousin, John, was in town a few years ago. The husband, the parents and I all went out to dinner. (This was before we had possession of the oldies.)

During our conversation, the husband talked about his military experience and his training as an Army Ranger. (It's like the equivalent of a Navy Seal.) John is a keen communicator so he kept the questions and stories flowing. Later, my parents commented that they knew about his military history but had not heard the embellishments of his Ranger days.

So I asked Big Daddy, "Why didn't you tell my parents about being a Ranger?"
He said, "I wasn't sure how to word it. I'm a trained killer and I plan to marry your daughter."

For the record, he never killed anyone. Even though he could snap me like a twig, I think he's occasionally afraid of me. The mind can be mightier than brawn. And my mind is twisted like a twig.

Driver's License

Do you remember passing the test and getting your driver's licence? I do. But even more so, I remember when Jan got hers. Who cares who is driving? One of us had the freedom and flexibility to take on the world.

This is the way the doctor explained the oldie's situation to me. (Remember, he has been instructed by me to speak to me like I'm a 5-year old.) "This is the antithesis of the day you get your driver's license. That day represents an open world, open choices, everything is an option. The day you go into (or are put into) a Home, it is the complete full circle. Your options are narrowing. The road is limited. You are no longer in the driver's seat."

I could use some military training. Both Hangdog and Big Daddy are keeping a stiff upper lip. I'm still spending a lot of time on the dog's pillow.