Rain out

I am appreciative of the recent rains. Sure, I like the rain for the cleansing properties, the life-giving nourishment and all that stuff. But it also provides this: An opportunity to show my kids why self-centered people who are devoid of any concept of other individuals are loathsome and why my kids should make an effort not to be those people.
Let me back up. My kids are at a good teaching age. They’re 6 and 9, so they are still in the genesis stage of what they will be as adults. I work hard to teach them that there is a reaction to every action. For example, when you are in a grocery store, acknowledge that there are other people on the planet. That will help you not blindly walk into the poor shopper carrying a handful of items, who, trying to get out of your way, spins and slips and drops everything, sending Duke’s mayonnaise onto the Kroger floor. Simple rule: Be aware of other people. (They are also well versed in my philosophy that failing to wave to someone who has let you in traffic should be a federal offense that can take away your voting rights.)
So the recent rains brought out a fantastic opportunity for me to demonstrate to my kids that self-centered behavior has consequences on others.
The first: The kids and I went to the grocery store to pick up a few items. When we were checking out, the heavens opened up. Torrential rains. The car was about five spots away, so I told the kids to stay with the groceries by the door while I pulled the car up. They were game for this. Guard the groceries. Easy task.
I ran to the car, pulled out, and began to head to the overhang where they stood with our stuff. At that point, a woman in an SUV pulled up, blocking the entire breezeway, turned off her car, hopped out and ran inside. She, clearly, did not want to be bothered by the rain. Only problem: Where she parked for her convenience blocked the only spot where people who were loading up groceries could pull in and be protected by an overhang. So I had to park a ways down from there and get soaking wet – as did the kids – while throwing groceries in like mad. I am sure she had but one or two items to pick up. And that was enough reason for her to (a) not play by the rules and (b) park where everyone else who was playing by the rules would get soaking wet.
As we were driving off, I said to the kids, “You know how I tell you how you need to be in tune with how your actions affect other people?” They acknowledged. “That is why that woman will have boils on her feet.”
OK, I didn’t, but the dark part of me kinda hopes for that. It’s a very easy grocery store process: When it’s raining, if you leave someone by the curb, you can ride up, load them in quickly and stay dry. It’s grocery store car line. But you DO NOT have the authority to commandeer that spot. It’s a crime against humanity.
The second: During the next day’s rain storm, my wife was coming out of a different grocery store. (We grocery shop a lot.) As she was being pelted by rain, four people walked by with their umbrellas, passing her in the rain. My wife did not have an umbrella. Poor planning? Perhaps. But I have spent time on many a rainy afternoon holding my umbrella over a fellow patron who was trying to unload groceries without becoming a frog. “Chivalry,” my wife said, “is extra dead.” I mean, is it so hard to be aware of your fellow citizen that you can’t stop for two seconds and say, “Gee, perhaps she would not want the rain pelting her as she loads bags into the minivan?”
The bottom line – stop and look around you once in a while. Hey, waddya know – other people are around! And if everyone just tried to play by the rules and offer an occasional helping hand, the world would be a better place. And my family would be a lot drier.

To the nines

Nine years old. Wow. What a difference close to a decade makes.
Allie was born into a far different world that she dwells in now, but I don’t want to focus on that. As she turns 9 on Thursday, I want to think about the things that won’t be in her adult world. We’ve all seen the myriad lists about things our children won’t know about – rotary phones, flash bulbs, Jay Leno, etc.
But what about the things that will have changed over her lifetime? What about the things that were here when she was a kid, and she can tell her children that they existed when she was young?
Such as:
• The excruciating squeal of dial-up modems. For the first two years of her life, she slept for about nine minutes total.
My wife and I would take turns doing a spirited dance around the living room until she fell asleep in our arms.
The only problem was she was terribly allergic to her crib, and would turn stiff as a board and wail and scream if you tried to put her in it.
She would be still in your arms, so we would get her to sleep and go to the computer and fire up the Internet to kick around on AOL for a few hours before the relief squad came in.
Only problem was that high-pitched modem squeal, which was like a great big brain poke to her, so you would have to sign on to AOL, spring from the room singing “The Rainbow Connection” and hope to avoid waking her up.
• Fiddling with the TV antenna.
Up until the FCC decided rabbit ears were not for us, we had a little TV in our kitchen. Allie became well versed in twisting the antenna this way and that way, holding onto the sink, connecting a fork, etc., to get the best “Dragon Tales” reception. Sadly, it now has cable, and I think she may have lost that gift.
• Cable TV. Poor kid only has 100 or so channels to choose from.
Of course, she still has that, because Daddy hasn’t gotten satellite or digital, because, let’s face it – we only watch about five of the channels as it is now.
• Having to hear a song from your off-key father. Now, with YouTube, any time she wants to hear a song, fire it up. And hear your off-key father sing along with it.
• Car seats. Seeing as how car seats changed from when I was a kid to when I had kids, I can only imagine that my grandkids will have some floating protective bubble sphere that will keep them safe.
• Headphones. One of Allie’s aunts got her a set of headphones when she was about 3 years old.
They were relatively small by pre-iPod earbud standards, but I am sure that by the time she has kids, it will be like she was wearing Cinnabons on her head.
• Cars that didn’t fly. I’m still holding out for those any day. Those and personal jet-packs.
• Coins. Just can’t see those lasting. Think about it – last time you dropped less than a quarter, did you stop and pick it up? No. No, you didn’t.
• Checks. As one of the last 11 people on the planet to write checks, I have a feeling that checks, like coins, will be gone.
But at least my kids will remember the days in which they went with me to a grocery store without my license and I convinced the store clerk that I was good for it, since I could remember my license number.
• CDs. Kids don’t just invest the way they used to. (Wait for that one to sink in.)
• Smart phones. Allie will be able to tell her kids, “When I was a kid, we couldn’t play games and take pictures and surf the Internet. Well, at least until I was 5.”
• VHS tapes. The next, next generation will not know the joy of watching Cinderella on VHS, each viewing getting fuzzier and fuzzier, meanwhile making an awesome fort out of the 600 Barney tapes you have since outgrown.
I am sure that there are plenty of other things that will be archaic by the time she grows up.
Perhaps she can write about them one day when she’s older. For now, I’m just going to enjoy her being 9. Maybe we should listen to some YouTube.