Tea with T.

A re-salute to that which I resolute. Again.

Another new year on the horizon and again I sit with pencil and paper to sketch out resolutions.  Notice I said pencil, not pen, as I’m not totally committed to this year’s list (which sort of resembles last year’s list) yet. It’s not that I think the resolutions are not worthy of being carried out, it’s just that I’m not sure I have the intestinal fortitude to do what needs to be done.  I’m a bit of a pansy when it comes to facing down my inner dragons, especially the ten to twelve pound one that’s been hanging on for dear life to my flank region for quite some time.  That little bugger just won’t let go (nor will he willingly be shoved into a pair of jeans I’ve got hanging in my closet that I’d like to get back into).

 

Misery loves her company and according to Time Magazine, I won’t be standing alone in the cold with a possibly broken resolution list. The magazine says the Top 10 Commonly Broken New Year's Resolutions are these:

 

How can you LIKE that?!

Let’s say you’re from Minnesota and you really dislike jalepeno peppers, or just don’t care for them as much as those folks in the Southwest.  Or, maybe you’re from Italy and you go to a Texas diner and decide that grits are just not your cup of polenta.  Chances are you’d be polite and simply chalk it up to simple differences in tastes or culture.  Right?  You wouldn’t make a face and blurt out something like, “Eww!  How can you LIKE that?  Nobody likes that!”

You wouldn’t do that.  Would you?  Huh?  Punk?!

Au contraire!  There are plenty of people who take it upon themselves to be vocal experts on what’s to be liked or not liked and they feel bizarrely compelled to pass judgment on what you happen to like.  Heaven kiss the foreheads of the design staff at Facebook for not yet altering settings (which they LOVE to do) to include a “Dislike” button.  People do enough of that in the real world, face-to-face.  Dang it.

Sitting in a theatre dressing room this past summer, one pink-cheeked boy-on-a-cracker upped the ante for me on the whole Like/Dislike discussion, as his dramatic (he is an actor, after all) knee-jerk reaction to seeing two middle-aged women eating black licorice was to rear back, spew his highly caffeinated lemon-line energy drink in horror, shouting for all to hear: “Ewwwwww!  How can you LIKE that?!  Nobody UNDER 40 likes that stuff!”

As I’ve promised throughout the years, I won’t curse in print.  But I’ve also said, repeatedly, that what falls out of my mouth I cannot be held responsible for.  In this moment I cursed, quite loudly, in this young man’s general direction.  I may or may not have even spat, a little.  Go ahead and publicly express your over-the-top disdain for the things I like, but if you’re going to base it on my age, too – then I invite you to take a ringside seat to watch my temperature rise.  Some lucky women out there glow, I irradiate.  And I will slice you in two. Distinct. Pieces.

Since then, I’ve calmed down and done a little informal survey about my beloved candy choice (I said I’ve calmed down, I said nothing about letting go).   It was surprising to me how talking about simply liking black licorice (aka liquorice) does bring out the weird and uncouth in some people.

To set the record straight, let’s first just throw red licorice out of the ring, because research will show that red licorice isn’t licorice, at all.  Candy companies started making red similarly into whips and twisted sticks like the original, which they then flavored with strawberry, cherry, raspberry, or cinnamon – but that ain’t licorice, kid.  That ain’t it.  And neither are those other colors now available flavored with apple, watermelon, blue raspberry, mango, etc.  They are imposters.  Sweet imposters created for those who don’t care for the piquant original black licorice.

When polling people about black licorice nearly everyone fell into the “love it” or “loathe it” category.  Those that love black licorice had favorite versions, such as the original form of whips and twisted sticks; Good & Plenty; Black Jack; Scottie Dogs; pick only black from a bowl of Jelly Belly’s; anise; fennel; and other varieties of the stuff (including the adult beverage versions like Sambuca, Ouzo, Absinthe, etc.).  People who love black licorice may have a preference, but for the most part are pretty happy with just about any variety they are presented with, unlike the red licorice people who are firmly divided into either Red Vines or Twizzlers teams.

What I did NOT discover while doing all this in depth research and surveying, was a division in age.  There were just some crazy strong opinions, across the board, from young to old, when it came to likes and dislikes.

Good people, listen to me when I tell you: Opinions… are like noseholes.  We all have ‘em and depending on how they’re wired, they help us sniff out our likes and dislikes.  However, if you are surrounded by the above-mentioned “experts” you may be left to second guess how you really feel about something.

A few months ago, I had a contest where I asked my readers to tell me what they LIKE (food, music, etc.) that somebody in their world really DISLIKES, robbing them of their good opinion. The many answers ranged from bleu cheese, to rainy days, to (and this one broke my heart)… laughter.  Having grown up in a world where I was surrounded by nuclear personalities (I could say “crazy” but, I hear lawyers dislike that kind of talk.  Or writing) – it was impossible to have an opinion.  It wasn’t just a matter of them not liking my youthful choices in music or clothing it was more of an epic battle of wills where I was also devalued for my opinions.  There is language one can use when expressing disagreement and phrases like “you’re crazy if you…” or “why would/how could you…” and the like are hurtful.  Combine the dialogue with tone and facial expressions that convey disgust, distrust and unjust about your opinion – you end up not feeling very good about your choices.  While I think such powerful communication should be used when addressing harmful choices that someone you love might be making, I firmly believe they have no place being used when talking about simple, mundane likes and dislikes.

William Hazlitt wrote that the mind “revolts against certain opinions, as the stomach rejects certain foods.”  How true that is.  My only wish is that rejection of another’s opinion of the things they like could be tempered with a bit of kindness and consideration.  If you don’t like something that I like, you can disagree, but it doesn’t give you the right to humiliate me for my choice.  You are, after all entitled to your opinion.  But, if you’re going to be unkind and inconsiderate about it, know that I am entitled to like the idea of possibly poking you squarely in the nose if the words, “Nobody UNDER 40…” ever fall from your pretty little lips again.  

     C

“It were not best that we should all think alike; it is difference of opinion that makes horse races.” – Mark Twain, from The Tragedy of Pudd'nhead Wilson

“We're like licorice. Not everybody likes licorice, but the people who like licorice really like licorice.” – Jerry Garcia of the Grateful Dead

“Ok, we've had some word that there is some bad red rope licorice circulating in the crowd. Please stay away from the red rope licorice. Do not bite any off or chew it. It could cause a dental emergency... “ – Garth of Wayne’s World

“You’re lucky. You got good kids.”

While discussing my love for my children the other day (I’m a mom, we’re known to do that) my lunch partner said, “Yeah, well -- you’re lucky.  You got good kids.”  He said this in a way that implied I had somehow picked my children up in a serendipitous cosmic yard sale, narrowly missing going home with the ill-tempered Garbage Patch Dolls sitting to their left.

Questioning my companion’s usually diplomatic communication skills, I inquired why he chose to label it “luck” instead of, I don’t know, “parenting” maybe.  He went on to explain that “there are plenty of good parents out there whose kids grow up to be complete…” -- and I almost quote “<expletive deleted>!”  

The argument of Nature Vs. Nurture is one that has raged since the Victorian era (but those people also had a utensil for everything.  Seriously?  Grape scissors? Way too much time on their don’t-touch-the-fruit hands) and the debate continues still today.  The question of whether we are products of our environment or our bloodline was actually raised as early as the 13^th century, but the more jingle-worthy phrase, Nature Vs. Nurture, was first published in a document called English Men of Science in the late 1800’s.

For hundreds of years, scientists and philosophers have questioned whether we are a product of our environment or our heredity.  Are we hard-wired from our ancestors or are we blank slates (tabula rasa) on which those that care for us, and our outside socialization, draws the ultimate conclusion of who we become?

Over time, the term “nurture” has grown to be defined as that which is going on, on the outside that defines us as human beings from the get-go: the prenatal, parental, extended family, peer experiences and influences such as media, marketing, and socio-economic status.  The term “nature” defines more of what’s going on, on the inside: heritability, the traits directly affected by your encoded DNA, such as your genetic predispositions to (perhaps) intelligence, personality, aggression, and sexual orientation.  [Go ahead and send your emails – I didn’t make that last one up, but I’m happy to listen to your thoughts on the matter.]

Kimberly Powell, a professional genealogist had this to say about the subject, “Researchers on all sides of the nature versus nurture debate agree that the link between a gene and a behavior is not the same as cause and effect. While a gene may increase the likelihood that you'll behave in a particular way, it does not make people do things.”  She went on to say something I especially liked, “…which means that we still get to choose who we'll be when we grow up.”

Having tutored music for 20+ years, I’ve worked with a whole lot of families who have brought brothers and sisters to me for lessons and I have watched some of those kids grow up into fine adults and seen some of them turn into relatively crappy adults (I’m sorry, but no matter how their parents try to sugarcoat addiction, immoral behavior or rudeness-in-the-name-of-reality-tv-type-honesty, I will not invite their now grown children to my table for tea).  I’ve watched thousands of families with kids raised by the same parents, sometimes sharing the same DNA, sometimes not (adopted) and whether they have monochrome similarities or multi-colored variables up the wahzoo, who is to say why one family is “luckier” than another when it comes to whether or not they “got” good kids.

Personally, I can see that parenting styles have a whole lot to do with it.  Humans are not exactly machines and are malleable, therefore those who are downright manipulative can push what buttons we do have and we will respond accordingly.  A family can have three boys and, depending on the personalities of those three, the parents can respond equally or slightly differently to that which they are presented with.  For example: #1 The shy and quiet child might not make all of his needs and desires known, so mater ‘n’ pater simply let him be, figuring he is fine; while #2 The middle child, falling somewhere in between may learn to be diplomatic in getting what he requires from mom & pop; and behind door #3 The squeaking child, with his stamping feet and mewling pleas, gets all the grease, including his brothers portions.  These wonderful parents, while working with similar lumps of clay had a choice in how to shape each and they may have employed the exact same parenting methods for all three sons, then again -- maybe not.  No matter what, each boy will grow into a man and very well may make choices that differ from his brothers, despite being raised in the same house, by the same parents with the same genes.

Human beings.  We are a most complex lot, aren’t we?

And so, the Nature Vs. Nurture debate rages on, even over a polite lunch in a four star restaurant between friends.  Having done more than a little light reading on the subject in my lifetime (I’m adopted, therefore I have always been fascinated by these studies), it doesn’t surprise me that even after scientists decoded the full sequence of the human genome a decade ago, there are no definitive answers.  In fact, Dr. Kevin Davies (author of the 2001 book Cracking the Genome) states that “even the most diehard geneticists acknowledge that the environment plays a major role in shaping our behavior, temperament, and intelligence.”  Ha!  Whodathunk.

As for me and my house, I am going to continue to roll the parental dice I have, and do what I can to shape the environment that my children are being raised in, in the hopes that it continues to play a part in how they might ultimately shape up as adults.  May luck be with me (and also with my above-mentioned friend, who has yet to spin the genetic wheel of parenthood).

“While we try to teach our children all about life, our children teach us what life is all about.’  -- Anon.

 

Do as I say, not as I do.

Growing up, there were plenty of times I was told, “Do as I say!” A phrase usually blurted out in the heat of the moment by adults who had neither the time nor patience to elaborate why, they just wanted it (whatever “it” was) done and done now… no questions asked.  Many times I believe it was also uttered with the unspoken understanding that I was not to follow in their footsteps.  A “Do as I say, not as I do!” decree, less a discipline issue, and more of a plea that I not make their same mistakes.

Then again, there are your plain ol’ garden variety hypocrites, ones that usually hold court from a loftier realm than the rest, with their “Do as I say, not as I do!” lives.

You’ve seen them.  Politicians, celebrities and religious figures that espouse family values and moral decency who smile for the camera with their “Do as I say!” twinkle in their eye, until their unsavory private peccadilloes are ultimately revealed to the masses, such as: People who claim to have gone green but fly about leaving terribly muddy carbon footprints; People who support movements like Rock the Vote, then don’t vote themselves (maybe not even registering); People who lead others to follow a particular dieting, vitamin or exercise regime for profit then don’t practice what they preach; People who do a gigantic sparkling dog & pony show in the name of all things moral in the public eye, yet live their private lives however they darn well please, figuring nobody will ever know.  It is sad when they are discovered to be “Do as I say, not as I do!” people, to leave their disciples weeping once they discover that their heroes have feet of clay, with kingdoms partly strong and partly broken, while others waggle their naughty-naughty finger at them.

Sure, it’s oh, so easy to point out from our Monday Morning Quarterback Barcaloungers, but it’s not so easy to walk in those uber high morality heels methinks. 

At some point in my maturation process it became important to me to be a woman of my word and actions.  I might be a lot of things (sassy, snarky, loud and clumsy… to name but a few) but I feel it is extremely crucial that I not be a “Do as I say, not as I do” woman.  I’d like to be more than just a character -- I want to be a person of character.  I want to live a life of honor and honesty, and only partly because living any other way is a high maintenance gig that I couldn’t keep up with (speaking from early life experience, once telling another kid the whopper of the “I’m a twin” lie). If you don’t tell the truth, the details one has to keep track of are draining.

But trying to walk the walk and talk the talk of a person of character is rough, taking years and often involving plentiful tears.  It isn’t always easy to toe the line of Doing What’s Right.  For me, it is a daily task akin to Sisyphus rolling that rock uphill: Might not be getting anywhere, but ya still have to do it.  Strange as it may sound to some, I want those that love me to love me for all the right reasons, honor being one of them.  So, I try to live my life as more of a “Do as I do” human being (especially for my kids), in a manner that brings no shame or humiliation my way or in the path of those I love. 

Except for the occasional face plant moment where I say something stupid or trip on my own two feet.  When that happens, it does sort of bring the “Do as I say, not as I do!” ruling to a whole other level, don’t you think?  Hey, kids!  You don’t want to be this!

Hmm.  Sort of makes me wonder if this is the message Charlie Sheen’s been going for all along.