799 PS ... THE LE BARON EGG-MOBILE Part 17

It's no wonder why some kids cut loose during their first year away from home.  Retrospectively, I'm glad my sons dabbled in teen-aged mischief when they were still under my roof, because every time one of the three was caught breaking rules offered me another opportunity to model and discuss a host of values I'd hoped their minds would absorb while they continued to develop into young adults.

Being the oldest in our family, Barry, exposed many thoughts and feelings freely.
This led to discussions in which limits were clearly defined.
Yes, feel free to do this ... No, it's unacceptable to do or say that.
Why not, Mom?
Because it's not safe, or
It's not considerate of others, or
We don't have time, or
It's not healthy, or
It's too expensive, or
I'm not ready for you to attempt that yet, or
It's against the law ...

For the most part, while young, independent minds are
Growing through early egocentric stages of life
Here is what our children hear adults say most often:
Blah blah blah ...
Since most of our discussions took place in the kitchen, family room, car or on the patio, Barry's brothers listened with interest, knowing that once a rule was defined, they'd be expected to fall in line.  As knowledge is power, Barry, Steven and David were empowered with these choices:
Respect rules; receive positive reinforcement and Mom's smiles
Break rules; watch parental smiles turn upside down ...
Pay logical or natural consequences.

As David's brain was at an earlier stage of development, his mind absorbed rules laid out for older brothers without the complexity of inner conflict.  On the other hand, Steven's intelligence unwittingly absorbed the fact that Barry brought up situations, which caused Mom enough concern to create one rule after another, designating certain experiences off limits, and as new rules shaped up, youthful curiosity yearned to experiment with whatever had been declared off limits, even more than before.

Need I say that parental authority had no clue that in reaction to designating these experiences off limits (like no sugared cereal, no cable T.V.) a natural sense of rebellion arose within the think tanks of two high spirited, independent, young minds ...

The human memory bank is a file cabinet with many compartments.  We file loving moments in one compartment, disappointment in another, knowledge acquired in a third, rules in a fourth, personal thoughts in a fifth, private emotions in a sixth,  degrees of independent rebellion in a seventh, and so on.  Now, the ease with which these drawers open and close, indicating what we choose to remember or forget, offers insight into which rules may be followed naturally, agreeably, complacently, passive aggressively, or defiantly ... and which may be bent or dismissed by the human spirit, which demonstrates a variety of emotional reactions  to the dictates of authority by acting passionately or passively in agreement or by actingvopenly rebellious or quietly determined to choose an independent path.  When our views are not compliant with authority here is what we hear: You need a change in attitude.

In posts to come, I'll offer amusing scenes of children's brains, which Mother Nature hard wires to react naturally in defiance of rules, just like adults, ignoring speed limits or rolling slowly through stop signs.  Though rules are set in place to keep us safe, our spirits are pre-disposed to inspire our brains to think up ways to leap over every hurtle strewn in our paths as we adventure toward developing into unique individuals, courageous enough to experiment with all that curiosity finds intriguing.  And while self trust forges hopefully ahead, the human spirit seeks to thrive through each next stage of life.  So what's to stop us from aspiring toward success?  Fear.  Fear of what?  Fear of failure.  Fear of displeasing loved ones or bosses.  Fear of being shunned and alone.  Fear of personal vulnerabilities. The ultimate fear of the Grim Reaper ... and you know what's coming, next, right?  Fear of fear, itself.

As that's quite enough said about fear ...
And as wisdom suggests balance in all things ...
Let's take a look at scenes, which took place in my home
When parents, who think to reign supreme
Set rules in place, which challenge the ingenuity of
The fearless (self trusting), high spirited minds of eternal youth :)

798 PS ... THE LE BARON EGG-MOBILE Part 16

Well, I sat down with full intent to tell you this story when I realized there's not much story to relate, and here's why that's true:  David did not go into detail, and I didn't press for more.  I guess my facial expression was enough to suggest that I'd imagined what must have taken place when a bunch of kids were joy riding in a convertible with cartons of raw eggs.

I mean, the fact that these high jinks occurred undercover of moon glow suggests that the intensity of the desert sun was not frying up omelets on sizzling pavement to provide young bodies with sustenance.  These eggs provided entertainment for youth, who, upon maturing into mindful adults, reflect back with disbelief upon escapades, which had once been considered good? clean? fun?  Why look back with disbelief?  Because as character traits mature and adult values actually sink in, teen aged pranks are cause for chagrin.

Though you may feel somewhat disappointed at this non-story post popping up on your screen, an insight is sure to follow, which may brighten your view as to why I chose to include the egg mobile as an addendum, at all ... I mean, perhaps there's more than safety at stake when kids are tooling around in a vehicle that's not built like a tank.

As writing time is short today, let's pause to consider what happens when one undeveloped mind joins ranks with several others.  Might several choose to do what one, alone, would not?  More insight into encouraging young minds to develop mature values when we come together, tomorrow :)

797 PS ... THE LE BARON EGG-MOBILE Part 15

How many stories concerning teens start with OMG?
Most of them! :)

That's why adults are charged with learning how to do more than drum logic into youths' inexperienced brains.  I mean, if you don't know what your kids are doing then how can you coach them to do otherwise before the police knock on your front door ... which, thank goodness, only happened at our house, once!

Feel the need to inject logic into a teen-aged think tank?  Here's the first thing you'll need to do:
Learn what it takes to role model how not to go off the deep end yourself while listening to what they suggest is just a night of simple-minded fun, which stays simple unless—rule breakers get caught!

Can you imagine how exhausting life would be if we knew every rule broken?
Had I known half of what my kids were up to, I'd never have gotten a wink of sleep!

Upon listening to story after story, I'd respond:  Holy smokes!  Who raised you?  Where was your mom while all of this was going on?  It's not as if I went to sleep before they got home!  If you asked me, I was vigilant, which they interpreted as paranoid, but judging from the stories we heard after boys-will-be-boys grew into men, I wasn't vigilant, eagle-eyed or paranoid, enough!

Think of it this way.  My sons—class leaders and national honor society students, one and all—had been raised with positively focused, logical and natural consequences from crib to college—even so, high school stories they relate as adults, give me gooseflesh.  OMG!  You guys could have been arrested!

Though I learned about some of their shenanigans whenever one of the three was caught in the act of being young, I'd no clue as to what went down those nights after I'd fall asleep, thinking all three safely tucked into bed, when, in truth, one or another was cavorting about town with a bud, who'd sneaked out, as well.

I mean what was I thinking?
Hadn't Will admitted to doing exactly that during his youth?

Having raised three teen-aged guys, I've experienced parenting from the angle of public high school as well as paying hefty private school tuitions, where parents were led to believe our children were being educated in a protective environment safe from the mean streets ...

Think kids in private school are safe from experiencing the same teen-aged mayhem as those in public school?  Think again, my friends, and this time—think smart ...

The one significant plus that private school held over the public domain was this fact:  My youngest son had to apply more brain power to win top grades than his older brothers had—however, one look at their adult lives, today, suggests that all three have reached levels of success that parents hope will be achieved as personal values shape up and character traits continue to develop ... and though I believe this holds true of our sons for many reasons, here is the first that comes to mind:  No matter where kids go to school, it's natural for trouble to lie in wait to tempt them every time they leave the safe haven of home, suggesting that the good health of each child's over-all development depends upon the kind of support they receive from those who love them after their peer groups tempt them; trouble finds them; Lady Luck deserts them and consequences are handed out, either heartfully fair and square or so harshly as to injure self esteem.  You know what I'm saying—just as with everyone else, teens must learn the meaning of balance in all things.

I firmly believe that when youth is raised by loving parents, who've both worked to overcome childhood tragedy, that child has a greater chance of achieving personal and professional long-range goals than a child raised by parents whose negatively focused attitudes place blame for personal or professional failure onto others ...

We were such bad kids, Mom!
This coming from 37 year old David, while enjoying breakfast on that 5th floor veranda, over looking the serenity of the Pacific, where we discussed his teen age years in relation to driving the Le Baron.  And once again, I feel the need to steel my ears, knowing that I'm about to listen to a beloved son freely confess to another high school story from hell ...

After listening to my son berate his actions with a mixture of dismayed amusement on my face, the voice of parental experience responds with insight into deeper truth:  You weren't bad kids ... You were just kids in that inexperience led you and your buds to believe yourselves impervious to respecting rules for this reason:  No matter what a person's age, inexperience mistakenly believes oneself invincible to succumbing to vulnerabilities, lurking in the shadows, lying in wait to attack our strengths as we approach each next stage of life.  And thank God we feel invincible while bending rules, because otherwise, we'd simply shrink back, let fear rule our lives and not succeed in leaping over hurtles, which others see as 'impossible' to overcome each time adversity comes knocking at our front door.  In truth, there are rules that make sense for some but not for all.  That's why discretion is necessary when deciding which rule to follow, which to break and which to bend just enough to embrace life's most passionate joys, which are ours to experience when we stretch past societal limits, inhibiting us from developing into the unique individual that each of us is born to be.

Holy moly!—I think, as David begins to reminisce, aloud about shenanigans he'd experienced with his sixteen-year old, joy-riding friends in my convertible—here it comes, again!  Save me from listening to stories that parents don't want to know, dipicting fun and games that entertained our kids on weekend nights when they'd cast off the responsible yokes placed around youth's inexperienced minds in hopes that they'd work hard, week after week, year after year, earning top grades, assuring acceptance into their college of choice ... no wonder why some kids cut loose during their first year away from home.  Retrospectively, I'm glad mine dabbled in teen-aged mischief when they were still under my roof, because all three took college and grad school seriously.

Though David, at 37, is smiling at me, uncomfortably, knowing that I feel less than pleased with his discourse concerning teen-aged high jinx in the Le Baron, my son can't stop from murmuring something about 'The Egg-Mobile'.  And as this arouses my curiosity, I can't help but ask, was that your nick-name for the convertible?

Yep, replies my adult, hard working, screen writer son, and since my facial expression indicates a mixture of dismayed acceptance, this tale from yesteryear rolls off another story-telling tongue ...

796. LE BARON CONVERTIBLE ... FIRE! FIRE! EVERYWHERE! Part 14

Will and I jump into the Q45 and following Carrie's directions, we rush to the scene where the Le Baron is still in the middle of a major thoroughfare, waiting to be towed to the Chrysler dealership where it had been purchased and serviced for years.

After parking in the lot, adjacent to the Whataburger from which Carrie'd called us, we hurry toward Barry and hug our son and his friend close.  I mean really, this close call came much too soon after Barry and Steven had been in a car that rolled.

So, you tell me ...
Are parents paranoid when fearing for their children's safety, or
By the time we reach middle age
Have most adults experienced enough close calls of their own to say:
'There by the grace of God go I' ... suggesting
Lady Luck plays a role in determining longevity of life ...

Anyway, as soon as we've hugged and before Barry begins to relate his latest experience with OMG—you won't believe what happened, tonight! ... I look at the hood of the car and say, Geez ... what happened, did it melt?

This question flies out of my mouth, because in addition to being blackened, the hood is dented all over the place.

In answer to my question, Barry says ... "Mom, you're not going to believe what happened! Here we are, stopped at this light, when suddenly flames shoot out of the hood.  So Carrie and I leap out of the car, and I stay here while she runs into the Whataburger to call the fire department and you.  While Carrie is making the calls, two winos stumble out of that bar, over there, and eying the fire, they stagger toward me.  As you can see, this neighborhood is far from affluent, and an old tire was lying on that empty lot.  So one of the winos gets it, and before I have a clue about what he's up to, he's smashing it up and down against the hood of the car, so I say: Hey man—what the heck are you doing?  Without missing a beat, the guy who's smashing the hood slurs out this reply:  What da ya think I'm doin' ... I'm tryin' to put out the fire!  Since both of these dudes are drunk out of their minds, and the car is already a mess, I decide to shut up and wait for the fire department and police.  Pretty soon, the dude doing the smashing is yelling, because he's burned his hands.  Then we hear sirens getting louder by the second, causing both guys to look so alarmed that one says to the other let's beat it before the cops start askin' questions.  At this, they wish me well and run off in the opposite direction of wherever the sirens are coming from, and I figure they must have some reason for not wanting to identify themselves.

Though Will and I feel stunned, we can't stop laughing along with Barry and 
Carrie, mostly from comic relief that these precious, young adults are standing before us, utterly unharmed.

While Barry and Carrie finish with the firemen and the cops, Will and I watch the car being hooked up in readiness to be towed to the dealership.  Then we all pile into The Q, drop Carrie off at her house, and head for home.

Once again, we all go to bed, emotionally drained, thanking our lucky stars that all's well that ends well ... and when Will and Barry go from lot to lot, looking for a car until they get a steal of a deal on the dealer owned, electric blue Celica that replaces the Le Baron, which needless to say is totaled, not one word of frustration is heard about adding money to the insurance payoff to buy yet another car. :)

I don't know if you remember back to the beginning of this story, but we've finally come full circle from the post where I described Barry's phone call to say: Mom, I just flew back to D.C. after visiting Steven in Atlanta, and I'm calling to tell you that sibling rivalry is alive and well—it took three days for me to tell my brother that I liked his brand new red Honda Prelude that he got from you and Dad for his college graduation.

And now you know that our family tradition of gifting our sons with cars as each one graduated from college began with spontaneous combustion, resulting in a drunken dude, smashing dents into the Le Baron's hood with burning rubber  :)

Last week, while reminiscing with youngest son
I listened to an earful of teen-age shenanigans
Concerning David, his buds and the Le Baron
Once again, high school stories from hell caused
My defense system to shiver to think of
That which kids consider fun
And in order to shake my mind free of fear
My intelligence said:
Thank God what's past is past, and hopefully ...
As each of us continues to move from one stage of life to the next
An ever-deepening sense of mindful maturity lies ahead of us all ... 
Curious as to what David revealed?
Tune in for LE BARON CONVERTIBLE ... EGG MOBIL ...
Coming up next ...

795. THE LE BARON CONVERTIBLE ... FIRE! FIRE! EVERYWHERE! Part 13

Just as sixteen-year old David had been amazed at finding the Pathfinder in the garage, Barry, at twenty two, was excited about having a car on the east coast.  And the fact that the car was a convertible was certainly a plus.

Though at that time, I'd paid the bills,  serving as our family book keeper, moneyed decisions were out of my realm, meaning that it had been Will's decree that we'd own four cars and up our insurance premiums.  This astounded everyone in our home.  I mean think about it ... from no car to four cars is quite a leap!  Or perhaps instead of 'leap', the appropriate word is ... evolution, because for the most part change evolves in this way:

One change leads to another, and if we take note of each small change, we come to see how, over time, life, as we know it, evolves into something else.  However, if for some reason we sleep walk through a certain, stressful stage of life, meaning that we remain in denial and thus unaware of small alterations evolving into significant changes, we may feel shocked, one day, to feel rudely awakened when reality knocks on our door, beckoning us to settle down in a place too strange to believe, as though we'd been caught up in a swirling tornado, like the one that tossed Dorothy and Toto into Oz.  And if upon awakening, we find the change too painful to accept, our defense system looks around, pointing fingers until anger, born of unrelieved, repressed angst, hones in on someone to blame.  All in all, Resignation is not a healthy place to live.

Upon becoming aware that long term denial serves no purpose other than to prolong repressed pain, I chose to leave Oz and face reality by seeking the path of self discovery.  But I'm getting about two years ahead this story, so suffice to say that at that time when Make-No-Wave was my middle name, I felt every bit as amazed by Will's unexpected decisions as our sons.

Anyway, Barry was home on vacation when Will chose to pass the keys to the convertible to our delighted eldest son, who, over the next few days, tooled around town, beaming as though he'd won the lottery.  Though I was not at ease with any of my precious sons riding topless after the boys' Thanksgiving roll over, I swallowed underlying fear by considering two facts:  Barry, at twenty-two had seven years of driving experience over David's inexperience at sixteen ... and in the aftermath of saddling Barry with Big Red, followed by The Beast, the size of my smile couldn't help but match his.

One evening after a boisterous family BBQ (ever watch four hungry guys plow through dinner?), Barry drove off, stopping to pick up, Carrie, a friend from high school, and the pair headed out for a night on the town.  Within an hour of hugging our son and cautioning him to consider safety first while enjoying himself, I answer the landline (no cell phones in our home as of that time) and listen to Carrie imploring me to follow her directions and get to where they are STAT!

What happened? I ask, alarmed ...

While pulling up to an empty intersection and stopping at a red light, Barry, a story teller like me, had been entertaining Carrie when, out of no where and without so much as a split-second warning, flames flare out of Le Baron's hood, transforming laughter into terror as young man, switching off the engine, exclaims, OMG! Get out of the car before it blows up!

794 THE LE BARON CONVERTIBLE ... FIRE! FIRE! EVERYWHERE! Part 12

Sooo ... on Friday and Saturday, Will and sixteen year old David pull away from our house in hopes of hunting down a tank, thus offering our youngest son a safe vehicle to drive.

Though they'd test driven a burgundy Nissan Pathfinder that David loved, son number three knew full well that his dad's car buying decisions were based upon getting a steal of a deal.  So when, after two days of driving from lot to lot, they came home empty handed, youngest brother felt naturally disappointed but not surprised ... until Sunday, when Will disappeared on his own ...

Earlier this week (2013), while thirty seven year old David and I sat on a lovely, fifth floor veranda, gazing lazily over a serene ocean view during breakfast, our youngest son opened his memory bank and began to withdraw details that had impacted him with enough significance to deposit inside his mind, concerning that early time in his life:  "Dad walked into the house and approached me, grinning widely."  (This came as a surprise, because at that time, his father's smiles were scare unless one of his teams had just won a game.)  "Before I could so much as ask, 'what's going on', Dad marched me into the garage, and as soon as I saw what was parked there, I let out an OMG! WOW!  When Dad handed me the keys to the Pathfinder, I still couldn't believe it."

So at that time, we owned Will's first Q45 Infinity, a beautiful, ebony-green 4door sedan; my first Infinity, a very cool, black, 2door M30 coupe, which, though small and sleek, had been ranked amongst the safest vehicles built in its class; the white, Le Baron convertible with gray and charcoal trimmed Mark Cross interior and a previously owned, almost new, burgundy Pathfinder, which I did not realize was David's favorite car until the two of us reminisced while enjoying our quiet moment of togetherness during breakfast, earlier this week.

As you can see, life had changed from that newly-wed time when Will and I did not own a stick of furniture or a car, at all :)

If at this point you asked, exactly when did Will decide to give the Le Baron to Barry, well, though I've tried to coax that detail out of my memory, all I can remember, right now, is this: Barry was overjoyed upon receiving the convertible soon after his graduation from Tufts.  And here's a detail of which I'd no recollection, at all:  Barry just told me that he remembers driving the Celica from our home in the southwestern desert to some family celebration in Chicago before continuing his cross-country drive to D.C., where he'd attended law school.  And if you think I'm trying to screw with your mind by leaping over details that fill in the blanks between our offering the Le Baron to Barry and his driving off in the Celica, please think again.

You see, each time I believe myself ready to describe the smokin' hot event that scared us enough to replace the convertible with the Celica, another fact, rounding out the bigger picture of how each person in our family learned to resolve conflicts, peaceably, pops into my mind.  And as each fact details another aspect of conflict resolution, which we'd needed to develop, I allow the emergence of those memories to grab the full attention of my mind—momentarily.  And then, just as life evolves one insightful lesson at a time, so does this saga of my life unfold, post by post :)

When it comes to resolving conflict, you may have surmised that I believe it's wise not to talk to yes-men who listen and agree with eveything I say, thus making me feel better about my traits.  When surrounded by yes-men, I am not challenged to penetrate into the depths of resolving conflicts by diving deep enough into my think tank to discover traits that are still half baked.

By choosing confidantes who challenge me to reconsider narrow attitudes in need of expansion, I find myself deepening shallow opinions of myself, others, and life in general.  Most importantly, I've come to recognize the difference between 'shoulds' (that limit my scope and therefore my options) and personal needs (which when met, expand my connection to thriving :)

If you ask how I can tell if I've been talking primarily to yes-men, here is my reply:

If like a caged gerbil on a wheel
I continue to circle the same conflict for years
Without achieving any indication of resolution
My mind is most likely closed to insights offered up by those
Who see traits in me that undermine personal growth
But I'm so fearful of identifying those traits that
My ego calls upon denial to blind me to
Any point of view other than my own, and thus
Instead of considering that which may be a more expansive view
I close my mindset to any view, offering clarity in terms of
Recognizing insight into the bigger picture, which
I do not yet want to see ...

And thus do we come to another reason as to why our memory banks withhold certain details from conscious awareness:

Mother Nature created our defense systems to build walls around details too painful to recall.  You know, like walling off certain traumatizing events from conscious awareness that my sixth sense 'remembers viserally', but my defense mechanism of denial has yet to allow me to recall.  And that insight draws my mind back to the statement (written several posts back) uttered by our neighbor, twice winner of The Indy 500, on that fatal night when a drunk driver rammed into the rear of the car that rolled with our precious offspring inside:

The wall always wins ...

Ever since that frightful night
I've made good use of that expression in this way:
The wall always wins unless
PASSION to experience pure joy overcomes
My fear of details too horrific to remember until
I consciously decide to muster
Every inner strength that I've worked for years to develop

And each time I choose to take courageous CONTROL over logic
In hopes of peeling away at many layers of my emotional wall
Defensive reactions are minimized while I'm brainstorming with
Those who challenge me in nurturing ways to open
My memory bank's locked doors in order to
Heal myself, little by little, from childhood trauma, which
From time to time, undermines my self trust and narrows my views, until
One day I'll breathe free of yesteryear's constraints enough to say:
Free at last! Free at last!  Free to be wholesomely ME, at last!

BTW, refering back to yesterday's riddle, I've already named those two opposing forces, which each of us must learn to balance if we hope to work toward achieving success in any of life's endeavors:

PASSION and CONTROL :)

Passion provides the brain's dynamic force of energy

Control provides the brain's leveling force of logic, so that over the long haul of each one's life, we can track narrow attitudes in need of expansion, and in this way we can switch tracks instead of remaining stuck on a circuitous track that leads no where other than heightening one's own sense of personal discontent.

In closing for today, please believe me when I say that I'm as hopeful as you may be that my mind will not feel the need to sidetrack away from disclosing the last, missing detail, which will bring this particular story in my family saga, concerning Fire! Fire! Everywhere! to ... The End :)

793. THE LE BARON CONVERTIBLE ...FIRE EVERYWHERE! Part 11

Before wrapping up my story, I feel the need to make this disclosure:

If you've been attentive to details, you may have found yourself scratching your head, because certain facts have been presented out of order.

If you ask why that's the case, I'll reply:  I chose to make use good of creative license in the interest of describing some of the more zany aspects of our family interactions.

In short, I consciously played loose with the truth by condensing two Thanksgiving feasts into one.  You see, the food fight did not precede the crash.  Truthfully, the food fight took place at least two years after that particular crash.  By condensing two separate feasts into one, I was able to pair the sublime and ridiculous aspects of heartfelt togetherness with an element of solemn pathos, thus combining both sides of family life, and in this way I offered up an overview into a home where leadership remains acutely aware of each person's brain, working to balance life's two most powerful forces of nature ... and if I leave you to ponder upon those two forces of nature, I wonder if your mind will conjure up their names?

Here's a hint toward deciphering the answer to today's riddle:
These two dominant forces of nature, of which we each need to grow aware, are polar opposites ...

Want another hint?
Okay ...
One dynamic force of nature is fortified by courage; the other is often motivated by underlying fear

Last hint ...
Those who reap the ultimate reward of transforming underlying fear into courageous success place a high value on developing character traits that train the eye to remain aligned with positively focus ...

Though I'd hoped that today's post would bring us full circle, concerning the unlikely way that Will and I began to gift our sons with cars in celebration of their college graduations ... the story of our family's love affair with our convertible has not quite reached its end for this reason ...  today's train of thought undermined my original plan.  sooo ... Hopefully, tomorrow's post will wrap this story by offering you a bird's eye view of one of our precious sons escaping honest-to-goodness-there-by-the-grace-of-God-go-I flames ...

792 LE BARON CONVERTIBLE ... FIRE! FIRE! EVERYWHERE! Part 10

After Will heard me exclaim
OMG ... had Barry and Steven flipped in the Le Baron
We'd be planning funerals, today!!! ... My husband agreed that
It was not safe for any inexperienced, sixteen year old to drive ... topless
So on Friday and Saturday, father and youngest son looked for a tank
As to my describing Fire! Fire! ... Le Baron burning rubber?
Well, I'm about to have fun with our adult sons, again ...
So if you'll accept my apology for offering
Only a tease as to what happened after
The convertible had been passed from youngest son to eldest ...
I'm hoping to have lots of time, tomorrow, to fill in missing facts
And once missing puzzle pieces are set in place
The bigger picture, completing the story of
The Le Baron Burning Rubber - Fire! Fire! Everywhere!
Will, assuredly, appear on your screen :)

791 LE BARON CONVERTIBLE ... THE WALL ALWAYS WINS Part 9

Though we send our offspring into the world with
Our values drummed into their young minds ...
In truth, Fate and Lady Luck play significant roles in deciding
Who will survive, who will thrive and ...
Who is sadly destined to die ... Or since death comes to us all
Rather than who is destined to die, I should haves said when ...

The race car driver, called to the scene of the accident is Joy's dad
In addition to having won
The Indy Five Hundred twice
Joey's dad is known to have survived more car crashes than I can fathom
So all it took was one look at the other car, 'accordioned' against that brick wall
For our neighbor, the race car driver, to say: The wall always wins

BTW ... If you think that this story, concerning
The fact that our sons had not been driving
Our convertible on that fateful night
Has reached it's end ...
Pease think again, because
I've yet to reveal the significance of the Le Baron 'burning rubber'....

790 LE BARON CONVERTIBLE AND THE WALL Part 8

A couple of evenings ago (2013), while enjoying dinner with Barry, we reminisced over that night when he and Steven had ridden in the back seat of their friend, Tina's ancient, iron clad tank, otherwise known as a BMW.  After pulling away from our semi-circular driveway, these three stopped about a block away and beeped the horn, signaling Joy, another friend from high school,  to run out of her front door and slide into the passenger seat next to Tina, who'd chosen to be designated driver that night.

As fate would have it, these four, young adults had just pulled out of our quiet, neighborhood side street and onto a major thoroughfare when, seconds later,  a wildly careening vehicle shot out from another side street, speeding so fast as to barrel, unexpectedly into the trunk of Tina's tank, and the sudden force of this powerful impact threw our young friend's conscious sense of awareness for such a loop as to suggest that any responsible driver would have lost control of the steering wheel, causing the BMW to swerve, jump a curb and flip upside down, landing solidly on its roof, which had been supported by iron rather than canvass, thank God!

Since Barry and Steven had not been belted in back (the law stipulating front seat belts at that time) they'd been tossed around inside that upside down car.  As to the girls, who had been belted in compliance with the law, they ended up hanging, suspended upside down while the boys got busy kicking out a window in hopes of all four getting out quickly in case the car burst into flames.

As Barry described it, the doors had crumpled, so this smashed out window proved their only escape.  Then my son went on to say that upon unbuckling themselves, the girls' heads, serving as protection for two frantically scrambled brains, plummeted straight down, hitting the upside down ceiling of the BMW with a painful bump-bump, and after taking a moment to right themselves, Tina and Joy climbed, dizzily, out of the smashed window after my sons.

In hopes of clarifying these facts, I questioned Barry about that crash when Fate had deemed a stranger to die while Lady Luck cradled four, young adults close to her nurturing heart ... And while every parent, who'd rushed to the scene, gathered our precious offspring into our arms, we all felt chills trembling down our spines to think of what Fate might have doled out on that fatal night had the BMW careened, headlights first, into the brick wall, which had smashed the stranger's car into an accordion, thus ending a life of which we came to know not even one fact other than this one:  Some poor guy, who died instantly, had come to a sad end after having made the choice to imbibe too much to drive safely on that fearsome, Thanksgiving night ...

BTW if you'd like to know who said... 'the wall always wins' ... Well, I'm quoting a race car driver, who was called to the scene of the crash, that night ... 

789. LE BARON CONVERTIBLE AND THE WALL Part 7

The person who died had been someone's son
And maybe he'd been someone's brother, husband, father or friend
But as maybe means I'm not certain of any of those possibilities
Here are the only certainties I know as facts:
(And a story not based in fact is not a true story, at all)
John Doe had not been in the car with my sons
John Doe had been the driver of the other car
Unfortunately, John Doe had been doomed by driving drunk
Fortunately, John Doe had been alone in his car

Last fact for today ...
The wall always wins ...
Want to know what that means?
No time to expand upon that fact, right now
Right now, we're off to the back lots of Universal Studio with
David and one of his friends from high school, who
Works in production and is offering us lots of fun by
Taking us onto many famous (out door) movie sets on a private cart :)
As to what happens when real cars crash into solid, brick walls ...
Pleased stay tuned for more facts, tomorrow ...

788. LE BARON CONVERTIBLE ... NOT! Part 6

Imagine how many ambulances would have been needed had
My sons been driving our topless Le Baron convertible on that fatal night?
Thank God, they had not!

Imagine me leaping out of Will's car at the scene of a  fatal crash
Staring at that vehicle, which had flipped, exclaiming aloud ...
Thank God, Tina came for dessert, and our sons hitched a ride with her!

Imagine a visceral sense of deja vu overwhelming my think tank
Making me tremble  as I thought:
Thank God, all four are alive!  None headed for surgery and intensive care!

Imagine the carnage Will and I would have encountered had
Barry, Steven and their two friends flipped in a convertible, unseat-belted?
Thank God, they'd been well protected within an iron roofed, tank-like BMW!

Imagine Will and Annie, late that Thanksgiving night, finally falling asleep
Feeling fervently grateful to have hugged their precious sons and two, young friends
Thanking God, repeatedly, that these thriving, young adults had survived!

Imagine how confusing any story can become
When essential details are left untold?  Knowing this to be true ...
Thank God, I've learned to withhold judgement till all pertinent facts emerge ...

Imagine if I'd chosen to end this story
Without ever revealing certain facts ... like
OMG!  Who died?

787. LE BARON CONVERTIBLE ... BURNING RUBBER ... FATALITY Part 5

Our family upholds many beloved traditions
For example, after partaking in holiday dinners
Our sons have places to go and people to see ...
You see, just as their parents hold fast to life long friends
The apples of our eye do not fall far from the family tree
And since our door is always open to welcoming many guests ...
Inclusive of strangers with whom I cross paths and
Learning that they have no place to go, invite them to join us...
We are rarely short of offers to help with KP
This frees our sons to leave us after dinner
To enjoy meeting up with old friends, who, standing the test of time
Have grown to feel embraced by all of us as extended family
So after our feast off go the law students with our blessing to
Reconnect with friends from grammar school or
Buds from football  or student government or
Their click from youth group or what have you ...
Anyway, you know what 'they' say about
Most accidents occurring within a mile of home?
Well though 'they' are not always on the mark ....
'They' proved right, years ago, when
I suffered injuries severe enough to warrant intensive care
And 'they' hit the bullseye, again, on this Thanksgiving night when
We receive a call (no cell phones yet), imploring us to
Drop everything and get to the scene of the crash, stat...
Which, upon arriving and leaping out of Will's car
Leaves me heartsick to see
Red lights flashing and
Squad cars swarming and
Cops taking statements while
Paramedics are working feverishly to carefully extricate
The severely injured from a mess of twisted metal
And if all of that is not enough to weaken my knees
I can barely breathe to see that
The car, which had held my precious cargo, had flipped upside down ...
Wheels spinning in the cool, night breeze ... And OMG!!! ...
While listening to what had just taken place
My brain can not even begin to process this fact ...
When the car flipped ...
My son's seat belts had not been buckled!!!

786. LE BARON CONVERTIBLE ... KNISHES FRYING ... BURNING RUBBER Part 4

There's so much to say about Thanksgiving feasts enjoyed at our house by so many, year after year.
Why?
Because as I begin to describe all of the high jinks experienced during the days preceding and following our annual feast, you'll get a bird's eye view of how my think tank figures out how to make short work of tons of preparation by turning most of what others see as work into high spirited fun shared by one and all :)

For example ... We throw a pre-Thanksgiving, cold cuts and coleslaw party for our nearest and dearest on the Tuesday before Thanksgiving.  And we have so much fun that our niece, her husband and three boys drive several hours from Orange County across state lines in time to help us roll dough along with Will's brother and his wife, who also drive quite a few hours across state lines to join in this family tradition that embraces quite a few cousins, who live in town, as well.

You see, over the years, our niece's first born son, who'd watched the food fight fearfully when he was three, became big brother to two younger boys, all of whom had their own stools, lined up in a row along the work island where family fun takes center stage in the middle of our kitchen.  And in readiness on this island, awaiting the high spirited arrival of these boys, who tear through our front door,  raring to take part in creating our holiday feast, are a trio of marble rolling pins.  And if our great nephews look forward to sleeping in blow up beds all over the house, because all of our guest beds and couches are claimed by adults ... well there's sound reason as to why extended family and friends look forward to ringing our door bell, when many might deem all of the hullabaloo that takes place at our house as just plain  crazy!  You see, I figure it this way ... If, in order not to lose my smile, I needed help to create our traditional feast, then I'd be smart to make fun of what most others see as work, and here's why my reasoning proved as sane as sane can be ...

In the far distant past, I remember years when I'd tossed and turned at night for weeks leading up to this particular holiday, because I had no clue how to add so many additional shopping and cooking hours into a week that always demanded a super human stretch from me.  I mean, what with raising three, rambunctious boys, teaching at the college, writing positively focused articles about creating sanity out of family life, sitting on boards, driving carpools to this, that and the other practice of this sport and that music lesson, and whatever doctor, dentist or orthodontist appointment had not been planned but for whatever reason, which seemed to pop up out of the blue, someone or something had needed healing, repairing or replacing, like lost retainers and the such ... while holding myself responsible for preparing a feast that guaranteed smiling guests, who'd traditionally drove or flew into town to share this deeply meaningful, heartfelt experience with our family, year after year ... well ... I was always looking to improve upon that which came too close to driving this leader of my pack of cub scouts totally out of my mind!!

You see, I actually needed my three great nephews' help with rolling dough before we'd fill 75 knishes with 5 pounds of mashed potatoes, which we'd mix into a couple of pounds of fried onions, salt and lots of pepper ... before setting two huge fry pans on the stove in which 75 knishes would sizzle in oil till all of these luscious delicacies were golden brown ... And don't even ask me some of them were filled with cotton or today's post will never end :) :) ...

During the years when I'd prepared knishes in the kitchen at night by myself! I'd spend at least an hour cleaning everything up where flour had been flying and oil had been bubbling before finally falling fully exhausted into bed at 1AM ... knowing that at the crack of dawn on the Wednesday before the gala feast, my alarm would BBRRinging at 6AM to start another non-stop day of normal family life amid endless hours of cooking up festive treats enough to serve an army, again ... And since I needed lots of positively focused, high spirited, good natured help to keep my spirit afloat ... well, I'm sure you can see why I made opening my front door on the holiday ... after setting a fabulous table, decorated with a pilgrim family and native Americans and orange pumpkins and green and golden gourds, candles lit and twinkling ... With this surprise in store for our unsuspecting guests ... Each time the bell would ring, i'd run to the front hall and call out for Will to join me before opening the door to welcome our guests, and in addition to wearing a beaming smile in answer to the shocked expressions on each person's face ... especially the faces of the kids, I'd be seen standing next to Will, who along with me had been costumed as Pilgrim host and Pilgrim hostess with the mostest ... whew!!!  And if you say, we'll, Annie, you could only surprise your guests that way once, I'd laugh and reply ... Guess you don't yet have a clue as to how my think tank works ... Because each year our creative juices bubbled forth until a brainstorm ignited a stroke of lightening, highlighting an idea for a costume that never failed to get our holiday off with a heartily shared laugh ... On the other hand,  no amount of Meryl making could fend off fate on that particular Thanksgiving when a slapstick pie throwing fest led to a that unforeseen fatality ...

785. LE BARON CONVERTIBLE ... ANIMAL HOUSE ... BURNING RUBBER Part 3

As Will and I had both been raised in traditional families where the emotional atmosphere did not remotely resemble the outrageous, laugh-out-loud antics seen in Animal House, you might ask what could possibly have incited our family to bust so free of societal constraint as to fly into a full-fledged, pie in the face, food fight, which shocked the socks off of our guests during the few minutes that it took to get the coffee going, before I served what little was left of dessert on that fateful Thanksgiving night, which culminated in a fatal crash that motivated Will to place David behind the wheel of a vehicle that was not topless and thus much more protective of life and limb than our shiny, white Le Baron convertible had been  ...

Though I'd like to fill in details, concerning our free-for-all-food fight, which was followed by the frightening circumstances of that fatality, every hour, today and this evening, is jam packed with plans to enjoy time spent with family and friends ... So please tune in tomorrow for more ...
Warm hugs.
:) Annie

784 LE BARON CONVERTIBLE, SWEET POTATOES AND... BURNING RUBBER Part 2

Upon reflecting back to that time in 1991, when the specter of the unforeseen offers our family reason to set conflict aside in favor of landing on the same page, let's imagine all five of us around our expansive dining room table, giving thanks for love of family, friends, great food and copious amounts of zany, good natured laughter.  As you shall see, the accident that's about to take place, proving irreversibly disastrous to one, will grab hold of our minds immediately after our joyful Thanksgiving Day feast.

Had you been one of our guests, that night, this scene would meet your eye:  Family and friends, made up of four generations, numbering fifteen is gathered round our elaborately decorated table, enjoying each other's company while indulging in a mouth-watering array of favorite dishes, which remains unchanging, year after year (inclusive of this year (2013), for this reason:  Every one of my harmonic quartet of men has a favorite dish, which must be served or someone's smile will surely turn upside down, and you already know that Annie can't stand to know that she may in any way feel responsible for a loved one's frown.  So when, in eager anticipation of flying home for that particular holiday weekend, Barry calls from D. C. (several days before boarding his plane) to say ... Mom, you're making the sweet potatoes, this year, right?  Right!  Oh good!  And when you make the sweet potato casserole, you'll be sure to watch it carefully so the marshmallows don't burn, right?  At this, Annie simply laughs and congenially replies ... No worries, Barry, I learned both of my lessons, last year!  No one else will make our favorite dishes, and no burnt marshmallows will mar the perfection of this year's feast, I can safely promise you that!  Thanks, Mom ... and you'll never let anyone else make the casserole, right?  Laughing again, I reassure my eldest son, who—one day in the future when I am in too much pain to stand—will choose to whip up this casserole for 35 guests with help from his brothers rather than take a chance that someone else might screw it up.

In case you wonder why Barry feels the need to call for reassurance before flying home, let me explain what had taken place the previous year:  My dear friend, Angie, asked to take on more responsibility for creating this festive feast for this reason:  At that time, all of the holidays occurred at my house, because our home offered ample space to accommodate our ever-increasing clan.  Angie knew that, though I live with chronic nerve pain, nothing stops me from preparing holidays that serve up joy to so many.  And as my dear friend and her family loved to share holidays with us, she was looking to take good care of me.  Therefore, with appreciation for her heartfelt sensitivity, I handed her the recipe for my menfolk's beloved sweet potato casserole.

At the end of that feast, Angie asked my men ... so how was my first try at your Mom's recipe?  When everyone chimed in with great job, Angie turned to me and declared:  Okay Annie, from now on I'll bring the turkey, stuffing and sweet potatoes ... Then we hugged and kissed and said good night.

No sooner did I close the front door than my quartet of men swooped down like a flock of wing-flapping roosters, peeking at my head while crowing aloud ... MOM!  YOU CAN'T LET ANYONE EVER MAKE ANY OF OUR FAVORITE DISHES, AGAIN!

WHAT? I asked, utterly shocked.  I thought you loved Angie's casserole.

Mom!  Are you kidding?  Angie did not whip the casserole nearly enough!  There were lumps!

But you guys were so convincing...

Mom, you taught us not to hurt anyone's feelings—what else could we say???

At this I laughed, and after reassuring my guys that I'd never repeat that mistake, waves of tension, crackling through the air, relaxed as my guys laughter matched mine.

So anyway, now that I've explained why Barry needed to call for reassurance, let's continue with what eldest son feels eager to discuss, next—Who's coming, this year, Mom?

Well, let's see ... Grandma Jennie and Grandpa Jack, of course, Angie and Mark (our closest friends) with Rhino (their tall, good looking, dark haired, dark skinned, dark eyed son, one of David's best buds—whose name is not Rhino—Rhino being a nickname conferred upon him, years ago in the first grade, by Will, who nick names everyone he loves.

Barry is the big gorilla, because he grew from babe in arms into such a big, strong, tall one-year-old that our pediatrician deemed him off the charts.  Steven is the little otter because he'd learned, while still crawling, to dart out of the big gorilla's grasp :)  David is Pooh Bear, because he ate everything in sight, suggesting that, between infancy and preschool, he'd been as round as a bear and as sweet as honey.

As for me, Will never tires of renaming the little woman—off the top of my head, I answered to Goobers, Egor, Little Wiff and Red (Today, he calls me Pita.  Why?  Later—not relevant to this story :)

At that time, I had a secret nick name for the man of the house, tucked privately behind my ready smile, and if you promise not to tell anyone, ever, I'll whisper this secret into your ear.  Ready?  Wait—you really need to promise not to tell.  Okay, here goes:  Somewhere deep inside a pocket of my mind, where it had been my habit to warehouse frustration after mustering the courage to actually air my unmet needs aloud,  I'd begun to see my husband, the surgeon as—Dr. No—owing to the frequency with which my mind felt stymied and my heart pierced by the regularity of Will's strong-willed, no nonsense replies.  So let's see, where was I before digressing—Oh yesI was naming our
guests for Barry.

In addition to my mom and dad, Angie, Mark and Rhino, we'd invited Angie's niece, visiting from Philly, whom we'd yet to meet.  Next, I mention Steven's law school buddy, who's also new to us, and my niece, her husband and three year old son, suggesting that, along with our family of five, we'll extend our table to accommodate a grand total of fifteen.

Wow, that's great, Mom!  And in answer to Barry's exclamation of:  I sure do love this holiday!  I reply, Me too—I just hope that none of us end up in the ER, like three of us did, last year!  Upon hearing this, we both laugh, because in recent years, our Thanksgivings have proven to be injurious in unexpected ways ...

As we do not own a crystal ball, neither Barry nor I have any clue concerning the fright that's in store for our family once we polish off  this year's feast, which I've already begun to prepare and freeze in anticipation of the feeding frenzy that takes place each time we open our door and our smiles welcome an expansive assortment of guests, who can't help but salivate upon getting a whiff of mouth-watering aromas wafting through the air ...

783 MARK CROSS LE BARON CONVERTIBLE ... BURNING RUBBER! :)

Let's back track to 1991 ...
I have just chosen my first Infinity; it's a black M30 coup with a rear spoiler, shiny chrome wheels (of course ... my sons make certain I know that the wheels make the car) and black leather interior ... sophistication written all over this beauty. 

When I begin to drive the M30, youngest son, David, turns sixteen, and becomes the first person in our family to accept a hand-me-down car with a genuine smile.  Why?  Because he's pulling up to school in my six year old, white Chrysler Le Baron convertible with its grey and charcoal Mark Cross interior.  I loved that convertible as much as Big Red.

Anyway, Barry, who just graduated from Tufts University in Boston, is law school bound in D.C., when Will decides it's time for eldest son to have a car on the east coast instead of continuing to rely on public transportation for another three years, which extends to four years when, after receiving his J.D., Barry decides to earn a masters in law at Georgetown.

Truthfully, I was not a happy camper while handing the keys to the Le Baron to David. Why?  Because, having awakened after a crash in intensive care, experience suggests it's not safe for a brand new teen aged driver to tool around town in a topless car that does not remotely resemble a tank.

Finally, Will tires of watching his wife worriedly wringing her hands and decides to purchase a burgundy Nisson Pathfinder for youngest son, who is not overjoyed to find himself passing the keys of the Le Baron to eldest son, who can't wait to drive it, topless, cross country to D.C., proving, yet again, that conflict is synonymous with family life; however, conflict, discussed at dinner with a thoughtful sense of grace, does not necessarily cause harmony to come undone, over long.  Why is that true?  Read on, my friends, read on ...

At this point in time, our family owns Will's Q45, my M30, and that topless Le Baron.  Upon purchasing the Pathfinder, Will tries to get our auto insurance at a fleet rate but no can do.  Actually, all kidding aside ...

The man of the house does not pass the Le Baron's keys from youngest to eldest to pacify the little woman.  In truth, life offers Will and David sound reason to consider safety first after Barry and Steven survive an accident, so serious as to result in a death ...

782 UH OH! TRADING IN THE SILVER BULLET CREATES INNER CONFLICT, AGAIN! part 3 :)

The year is 1994
The phone in our home rings ...
Barry is in DC., has graduated from law school and is earning a masters in law.
Steven is in Atlanta and has just graduated from college.
David is at home and about to graduate from high school.
Upon answering the phone, I recognize Barry's voice  ...
Hi Mom ... I'm calling to tell you that sibling rivalry is alive and well :)
As my son's tone is up beat, I laugh while responding, Hi Barry ... What's going on?
Well, I just got back from visiting Steven in Atlanta, and it took me three days to tell him how much I like his new car! :)

So now, I'm laughing again.
I love when coaching pays off, and my sons recognize those times when sibling rivalry is messing with their minds.

Our conversation continues ...
I had a hard time with Steven getting a new car, again, when mine had been a dealer's demo (suggesting that Barry chose nothing on his cobalt blue Celica, while Steven got to choose the make, model, amenities and 'red' hot color of his shiny, new Prelude).

As Barry's tone of voice remains good natured, I laugh, again, before responding ... Hey ... Decisions are determined for all kinds of reasons that differ from one year to the next, and since I wasn't with you guys for either purchase, you'll have to take up any grievances with Dad ...

At that, Barry laughs in agreement ... No grievances, Mom.  I really appreciate my car.  Guess I just need to vent.  I mean, Steven did get two new cars, right?  And I thought you'd get a kick out of the fact that I remembered what you'd said about sibling rivalry escalating our competitive streaks.

Barry is right on the mark on both counts :)

I'm really glad you called, Barry.  I love when you share your natural reactions so openly, honestly and freely with me.  Knowing with whom to vent is healthy.  And the fact that you pulled out your best side while complimenting your brother's good fortune makes me smile deep down inside.

After enjoying this mutually enriching moment, we say so long and hang up ... and throughout the rest of the day, my spirit beams a smile from deep within my core to know that, once again, The Line of Control, which reins in frustrated reactions, aroused by sibling rivalry, is also alive and well.  I mean, seriously, what parent wouldn't beam to know that heartfelt connections turn a trio of siblings into each other's best friends. :)

While returning to whatever I'd dropped when answering Barry's call, my mind wanders to the reason why we'd made the choice to purchase cars for our sons as college graduation gifts, because, actually, that had not been our original intent ... 

If asked how that tradition got its start I'd say ... please tune in tomorrow :)

781 ELDEST SON ... YOUNGEST SON ... SWITZERLAND

First thought ... this post will be brief, because I'm enjoying the company of youngest son, today ... eldest son this evening :)

Second thought ... let's bid a warm welcome to Switzerland :)

Third thought ... Annie's readership still climbing ... Russia barely hanging on, numbers still down, hovering between 6 or 7 per day

Fourth thought ... if change, leading to conflict, is the only constant in life then perhaps Obama and Putin might consider a brainstorming meeting of two minds in Geneva, where leadership would work, respectfully through conflict in hopes of providing families in both nations safe passage toward tomorrow's mutually respectful co-existence, benefiting one and all ... And if you think I'm dreaming ... Well ...

Fifth thought ... While some see themselves as mind readers ... Others as mind dreamers ... Annie brainstorms till dreams about family harmony and world peace transform, one day at a time, into tomorrow's reality ...

Sixth thought ... As change, breeding conflict, is constant and joyful connection is fleeting, here's hoping you and I make the most of every moment of personal joy that nestles in private pockets of our hearts, today :)

780 UH OH! ... THE SILVER BULLET CREATES INNER CONFLICT part 2

Several days after the silver bullet was ours, Barry came to find me, and seeing my son's furrowed brow, I asked him what was up.

I'm really upset about the Accord.
That came as a surprise to me, so I replied, But Barry, I thought you thought the Accord was really cool.
I do think it's cool.  What's not cool is that I had to drive Big Red and The Beast for almost two years.  And now that we finally get a new car, I'm leaving for college, where I won't have a car, at all, while Steven drives the Accord without sharing it for the next two years!  It's not fair, Mom.  It's just not fair!  He should have to drive a clunker, too.

After listening to Barry's reasoning and acknowledging the fact that I understood his angst, I thought—thank goodness, I'd given my son's think tank lots of practice considering the law of averages when he was a child, because once he'd unloaded and passed the talking stick to me, here is what I said:

Barry, at different times and for countless reasons, we all feel upset, because life's not fair.  We all think this should happen or that should not happen, but stuff that should not happen happens, all the time.  So you'll get no argument from me about your frustration.  Life is not fair.  Life is life, meaning that, from time to time, we all take turns experiencing conflict and strife.  The fact that life's not fair can be a bitter pill for everyone to swallow—unless we remind ourselves to consider the law of averages.

As I'd had reason to discuss the law of averages with my sons on many occasions, I sensed that Barry was about to absorb what I'd felt the need to say (concerning the needling effect of jealousy that remains, to varying degrees, an inherent part of sibling rivalry) with an open mind.

As soon as I learned about the negative effects of sibling rivalry, I began to encourage my sons to adopt the law of averages as their own for this reason:  I knew that sibling rivalry, left on it's own to fester, subconciously, would undermind the friendship that I'd hoped to foster amongst my sons.  And as knowledge is power, I empowered my sons by encouraging them to understand that as much as parents work to equalize their children's good fortune, life would intercede, creating different paths for each one.  Each time one of my sons approached me with inklings of siblling rivalry creating inner conflict, my initial response placed logic on a back burner in favor of acknowledging whatever emotion had disturbed that loved one's sense of inner peace:

I know it rankles that Steven seems ultra lucky, right now.
At this response, Barry's head shakes up and down.

Having acknowledged my eldest son's feelings, I continue with:  Won't it be sad if you walk around feeling angry about what's passed instead of feeling joyful about the fact that presently, you'll be driving the Accord until you leave for college.  I mean, won't it be a waste to lug around an attitude that diminishes your own sense of joy?  And in addition to wasting joy, won't you also waste time and energy, anguishing about a fact of life that no one can change?

As I watch Barry's think tank considering and seemingly coupling up with my train of thought, I go on ... rather than grappling with inner conflict, common sense suggests that we turn the page and figure out how to get you to recapture your sense joy by concentrating your focus on every positive aspect of life that offers your spirit sound reason to soar.  And the best way to turn to that page is by reviewing the law of averages—again.

At this, I watch Barry's furrowed brows relax, suggesting a light bulb of recognition brightening inside my son's agile, young mind.  Upon spying this positively refocused change, my spirit smiles to see Barry's attitude open and expand at least enough to consider my line of reasoning, which was brainstorming, aloud, in hopes that we'd both embrace deeper truth, founded in common sense, so since *my son feels understood, at least enough to hear me out, the voice of reason feels free to continue with ...

Barry, do you remember when we invited one of your best friends to go to the circus with us, and his mom said no?

Yes, and I didn't get it.

You mean you didn't get why she'd said no?

Yes.

You didn't get it, because you didn't understand her reasoning, right?
Right.  I mean there was no reason why my friend couldn't go, and both of us were so disappointed.

Well, first of all, I remember your disappointment, and secondly, I'd like to say that from my point of view, I didn't agree with her reasoning, either.

Well, why did she say, no?

She said no because she was trying to make life fair for both of her kids.  She said no because her daughter would be mad that she couldn't go, too.  If one child was invited to experience joy while the other would stay home feeling jealous their mother decided that neither could go.  That didn't make sense to me, because at some point, her daughter's friend would ask her to go to something exciting, too.  And if the mom said okay, her son, who was not allowed to go to the circus with us would declare war.

So Mom, why didn't she teach her kids the law of averages like you taught it to us?

Well Barry, it's not easy for a parent to be on top of eveything. There are so many lessons to learn and then teach about life; no parent gets every decision right.  It's highly possible that your friend's mom did a better job of teaching certain lessons to her kids that have not yet occurred to me.  Bottom line, instead of teaching her kids to understand the law of averages, she was just trying to be fair.

Well, I don't think she was fair to my friend or to me.

And I agree.  From our point of view, she missed the boat.

So, Mom, here's what I don't get, now—what does the law of averages have to do with my leaving a brand new car with Steven for two years?

Well, right now, it seems like Steven is luckier than you are.  At another time in life, something will come up where you're the luckier of the two.  For example, right now, I try, as often as possible, to offer the same things in life to you both.  Later in life, one of you may earn more than the other, but perhaps whomever is earning less may enjoy better health.  Life's a crap shoot, Barry.  We win some and lose some.  In the end, if our attitudes are positive and our spirits remain good natured and our emotions are well balanced, life has a way of evening out the good with the bad.  So if I were you, I'd get happy, really fast, so you don't lose a second of enjoying the Accord until you leave for college.

So, said Barry, pensively, if I use the law of averages to feel better then I might say that at sixteen I was luckier than Steven, because I didn't have to share the car with an older brother, right?

Yes!  That's exactly what I mean.
I think it's a problem when parents try to make everything even-steven (Ha!), for this reason:  If we work too hard to create a sense of equal fairness between siblings and if siblings aren't taught to take the law of averages into consideration when life smiles more on one than the other, then jealousy can deepen until the bonds of friendship are twisted into a bed of thorns.  In order to share a balanced friendship, we are happy for each other's good fortune.  Though it's natural to wish that another person's good fortune may be our own, as well, it's unhealthy for any person to envy friends.  With positive focus intact, you can dig deep enough to see something of value in your life that your friend wishes for, as well.

Though considering the law of averages made sense to Barry's teen-aged brain, and though he did enjoy driving the Accord until he left for college, I'm sure it took a while before the unfairness he'd felt evaporated into the past.  For the most part, coaches inspire players to learn from this game in hopes of improving experiencially down the road.

And down the road, several years later, I received a call from Barry, which delighted my funny bone:  Hi Mom. I'm calling to tell you that sibling rivalry and that law of averages thing you're always talking about are alive and well ...

And if you'd like to see how that conversation went, please stay tuned :)

779 UH OH! ... THE SILVER BULLET CREATES INNER CONFLICT part 1

Recent posts have zero'd in on the importance of learning to resolve conflicts with others effectively by brainstorming respectfully with family at home.

Needless to say, parents must learn to brainstorm respectfully before they can hope to role model positively focused traits, such as listening with attention to detail before replying with thoughtful self restraint.

When offering examples of conflict resolution in recent posts, I described a parent, coaching two young brothers to share their toys by teaching both to make good use of a simplistic, three step, problem-solving plan.

A second example showed these children as teens, who learned to share a car by relying upon a healthy respect for self restraint, which both had developed, during the years that leadership had coached them to adopt a simple, three-step-problem-solving plan that encouraged two young brothers to share their toys.

A third example of problem-solving with self restraint described parents and teens working through conflicting needs, caused by age-related differences.

A fourth example decribed a family of five, working through conflict, like team mates, comprised of seasoned players and rookies while purchasing a car that satisfied everyone's needs to a reasonable degree.

Each of these examples suggests that while coaching a team, leadership's underlying goal remains focused on developing an attitude of harmony, suggesting 'all for one and one for all' on the field of play.  And each time leadership remembers to role model that spirit of harmony, conflict resolution ends in win-win for all concerned rather than winner take all.

*If over time, leadership works to develop an attitude of consistency in terms of role modeling those traits that we hope our children will adopt, a family has a better chance of resolving conflicts with generosity of spirit and postive focus intact.

Today, I'd like to offer an example of leadership coaching a player to work toward resolving inner conflict.  Inner conflict suggests that two emotions are at war, each trying to usurp all of the space within a person's mind.

Since opposing emotions create a sense of confusion, peace of mind is replaced by floods of fearsome discontent.  If asked why warring emotions feel so distressing I'd reply:   Opposing emotions suggest that opposite needs are vying for dominance.  (I need to do this.  But I should not.  Or I have every reason to feel joyful but instead, I feel guilty, angry or scared.)

Hopefully, as I describe leadership coaching the young to recognize inner conflict, you'll come to see why 'the shoulds' limit personal growth in unhealthy ways. 

So okay, it's time for me to describe inner conflict causing one of my good natured sons to feel a restless sense of havoc invade his peace of mind when, in truth, he deserved to feel 100% joyful:

At first, our brand, new silver bullet was cause for celebration throughout the family.  Then Barry's' mind conjured up a disturbing thought that caused his joyful reaction to tumble into a bramble bush.  At this point, my son approached me to help him to understand the underlying nature of his discontent.  After listening attentively, rather than dismissively, to his train of thought, I was able to discern where inner conflict caused his think tank to feel thorny.  And once this rookie to the game of life had been coached to expand his sense of 'fairness', his attention to logic caused emotional disturbance to settled down, though, in truth, his sense of inner conflict may have remained unresolved.  As you might agree, the unfairnesses of life are not easy to accept regardless of each individual's ever ascending level of emotional maturity :)

If you'd like to view our discussion, from beginning to wherever my unpredictable think tank decides to take us next—please tune in tomorrow :)

PS
I wonder if you can guess what train of thought caused inner conflict to invade my first born son's joyful state of inner peace in the first place? :)

778 READY FOR ANOTHER MYSTERY? ...

Obama cancels summit with Putin after Russia grants asylum to Snowden.

Up until this week, Annie enjoyed hundreds of Russian followers ...

This week, I've been stymied to see hundreds plummet, over night, to seven.

So what do I make of that mystery ...

Coincidence or not?

Is it possible that every aspect of life has grown so global that this current conflict between world leaders has influenced a sudden, downward spiral of readership?

Is it possible that the governing body of the Russian readers intervened in some way that severed our wholesome connection via the internet?

Seems far fetched ... Or maybe not...

Your guess is as good as mine ...

777 BIG RED ... CHICK MAGNET ... SIGNED SEALED AND DELIVERED! :) ... Part 18

Just as I'd once read my sons bedtime stories to tuck them in, lovingly, night after night, now I've been reading recent posts aloud, one by one, to offer my husband reason to chuckle before we turn off the light, and last night, he made a comment that caught me by surprise:

Annie, you remember the facts, concerning our decision-making processes, but your memory has mixed up the order of which car was purchased when.  And when Will withdrew proof from his memory bank as to where my memory's wires had crossed, I came to see, again, how two heads are better than one when attitudes on both sides ride out on open minded wave lengths, thus offering two people countless opportunities to brain storm toward clarity by listening attentively (rather than dismissively or defensively) to one another's trains of thought until forgotten details offer insight into bigger pictures and as fuzziness clears, conflicts resolve.  :)

As for straightening out my crossed wires for you, here's what seems most prudent to me:  In the interest of moving my tale forward, I'll not back track, at this time.  Instead, I'll allow each of those cars to settle into its proper place in family stories that have yet to unfold. :)

Suffice to say, that during moments fraught with conflict, memory fails to be 100% accurate for several reasons, and here's an example of one:  Though we may share many of the same experiences, your mind may find reason to concentrate on my reaction while mine concentrates on yours—meaning that in the absence of self awareness, you may have seen yourself as a victim where, in truth, pain was felt by both, suggesting that unresolved conflict creates mass confusion until such time as we both dive so deep into the distant past that missing puzzle pieces emerge, and bigger pictures begin to shape up.  Then, as
bigger pictures come into view, clarity may widen our scope, allowing both sides to 'see' that, in truth, no villainy or malice existed on either side ...

PS
Before moving my story forward, it seems important to mention that
I've learned not to listen, indefinitely, when a problem, belonging to others, continues to cycle round, year after year, because eventually my brain rebels when forced to listen to negativity, starting out small, escalating to such overwhelming proportions that common sense seems lost on both sides—Or, here's another sad scenerio:  What can be sadder than watching love being ambushed by angst, because one side has been absorbing insight in conflict resolution while the other side has not?

Either way, common sense suggests that when a problem, which is not mine, causes tension to heighten at the same time that an unrelated crises has come knocking at my door, you can expect me to consciously extricate my energy source from being attentive to your escalating tensions, suggesting that I am hopeful that my loved ones will have the presence of mind to consider this train of thought:  I've had sound reason to learn to respect my spirit's need to re-energize itself in the company of those who problem solve in positively focused, well balanced ways, so though my think tank may choose to be quiet, my heart hopes that both sides will find their way toward conflict resolution, so that with time, pain, which filters down from one generation to the next, heals, through and through, all around.

In future posts, stories, concerning 'problem ownership', are sure to appear on your screen :)