Story Index
Reality IS In The Eye Of The Beholder
It Was Just One of Those Kodak Moments
Alive and Well-Living In The Sixties
The Legend Of The Bear Behind The Couch
By Emil Baldwin, Jr. LSW
-Taken from my email newsletter, Christmas '99 Edition-
Last Friday, my co-workers and I journeyed to the Lewisburg (West Virginia), area to the
home of my supervisor. It was not only our monthly Unit meeting but
our annual Christmas party as well. As it turned out, "Christmas at Kelli's" was more work than
party although we all had a very good time. This outting had become the inspiration for "The Tree
of Life", my annual seasonal story, when the meeting was planned a couple of months ago. This is
the second time that "The Queen" has inspired a Cristmas story. The first was "A Spoon for
Emily" which was written a couple of years ago.
So, the meeting/party took on a theme of sorts. Kelli gave dream catchers of the Celtic
Tree of Life to the ladies and to me, she gave...a dragon. He is sitting nearby...watching...so I
have to be careful what I say about him. Actually, I thought he was a cool looking little guy. A
traditional beastie with glowing red eyes. When I commented to Kelli, that he even had sharp-
looking teeth, she summed it up by saying, "He's just a reminder that I'm always going to be
watching you." I am sure she meant to say, "...watching over you". She always seems to
mispeak like that when she's around me.
Anyway, here's the thing...I'm going into a new situation...I've never kept a dragon
before....what do I feed him (Dragon Chow?), is he litter-trained, house-broken, or do I
have to take him out for a walk around the neighborhood? Where does he stay? (I
know...anywhere he wants to. Right?) So-o-o many questions. But the biggie...for now,
anyway...is what do I call him? "Hey, you" or "Hey, don't do that" doesn't sound like a
name that you would want to use to forge a relationship. And what about the little guy's
self-esteem? A swish of that tail could wipe out my living room. Heavy breathing on his
part could singe my eyebrows. Am I going to say, "Hey, don't worry about it...they'll grow
back"? I don't think so.
The more perceptive of you will recognize that it's time for the social werky punch
line of this article. And...you would be right. According to my research, little dragons (and
the big fire breathers as well) believe what they hear whether it be positive or negative. If
they hear, "Bad dragon...bad dragon" they will come to believe that they are bad and
won't try to achieve. On the other hand, if they hear, "I really like the way you can toast
300 hot dogs at one time" they are more likely to try harder the next time around.
OK, that's it for the social werky mrssage. Now, that just leaves one burning
question (pardon the pun) to solve...what to name my dragon. Well, it is Christmas...what
about Santy Claws? or Rudolph, the red-breathed...hmmm... no, I don't think either one of
those will work. Well, I am sure you are all agonizing over this problem, so let me just
relieve your anxiety and tell you...he does have a name.
Now you know that I couldn't do anything simple like name my dragon puff or
spot...it had to be something more dragon-esque and you had to be able to say...so-and-so
the terrible...or so-and-so the unspeakable. The thoughts of the serfs running in abject
terror and screaming, "Oh my God it's the dragon Puff!" just didn't sound right to me.
So...With the help of my wife and daughter, who are both well-versed in the Arthurian
legends, I was able to come up with a very appropriate name. Apply the test and see if you
don't agree. (See below)
Well, that's my best advice on raising a dragon at the moment. I am sure as we get
to know each other better and our mutual understanding and respect grows that our roles
will be more clearly defined. I know that we will both have to make adjustments along the
way as with all new experiences. Although I know there will be unexpected turns in the
road ahead I feel confident that we fill face the challenges successfu..."Hey, don't do
that!....put that down!...sit!...stay!...No, no, no!...Stop!" Sorry folks, I gotta run!
According to legend, King Arthur's father's was called Uther which inspired my
dragon to be named... Click here to continue
P.S. I added a sound file, so you can hear what the little fella sounds like. He doesn't
have much of a vocabulary so the sound might mean, "Hey, howya doin", "Have a nice
day", or "Step away from Emil's computer...NOW!" You can judge on that one. The file is
rather large and make take a couple of minutes to download.
Two or three years ago, my son Scott and I went to the local health club for an afternoon workout. As we entered the building, he went to the weight room and I dragged my middle-aged, 200-plus pound body onto the treadmill. After about fifteen minutes of walking to nowhere, I decided to move on to the exercise bicycle where I peddled to...nowhere. Ten minutes into the routine of huffing and puffing, I noticed that an attractive young lady had sat down on the bike next to me. Considering there were plenty of empty cycles down the line, I was curious as to why she sat next to me but I just chalked it up to coincidence and peddled on. Almost immediately, she said "Hi" and started up a conversation. As we talked, I remained polite and pleasant but in the back of my mind I'm wondering, "Why is she talking to me? This usually doesn't happen." Fortunately, I am a trained observer of human behavior with many years in the social work field, so I knew instantly what was going on...she was "hitting on me". Even though I am secure in my marriage, I couldn't help but be flattered and slightly intoxicated by this attention and I suddenly noticed that my energy had picked up, I was peddling faster, and I was actually puffing out my chest...well, as best as I could. I was on top of the world because this young lady had seen beyond the obvious and recognized me as somebody really cool that she wanted to be with. Anyway, the dialog continued and I could sense that she was going to "pop the question" any minute now...and she did...she said, "You're Scott's Dad, aren't you?" My mind went blank for a few seconds while I tried to process this new information. As I began to realize that I had misinterpreted this whole scene, my energy again skyrocketed...downward...and both my foot and self-esteem slipped off of one of the peddles. "Oh, Scott...yeah, Scott is my son" I said profoundly. She continued to chitchat for a few minutes and then moved on to another machine. I watched for a few minutes, sighed and continued to peddle on my journey to...nowhere.
One of the morals of the story above is that reality really is in the eye of the beholder. We all perceive what happens to us based on a number of influences, including our life experiences, our age (and maturity), our self-esteem, our ability to communicate, our compassion for others, and our understanding of why people do what they do. It is not hard to imagine why children and adults, foster and natural parents, social workers and steel workers might see the same incident through different eyes and come to totally different conclusions. In fact, when you think about it, it's amazing that we as a society can ever agree on anything enough to do what we need to do in life.
Fortunately, most of us do have the ability, or at least the desire, to try to understand others and do the best we can. For the most part, desire is the most important element in "the mix" and if it is not present, all of the handy-dandy tools of communication or your skills won't do you a bit of good. Try to think about the people you know and figure out what their and your realities are and if there are areas where you can find a "common ground". Many times this simple little exercise can help sharpen your skills and allow you to become more aware of where you and they can meet.
For the last year or so people with headaches have learned that I don't have much sympathy for their condition and I usually meet their phrase, "My head is killin' me!" with a smile and the phrase, "If I had a head like that...it would be killin' me too!" Nine times out of ten I will get a smile from them and they feel a little bit better...or at least that's what I keep telling myself. Well, the other day I had taken the day off from work with a cold and was home when my daughter came in from school. She said, "What are you doing home so early?" I told her about my cold and said, "My head was feelin' funny". To which she said, "If I had a head like that...I'd be feelin' funny too!". We both laughed and I didn't "miss a beat" when I added, "Very good, Elizabeth...and you know what...this is one of those moments that really makes a parent proud...to know that their child has actually been paying attention to something they have said!".
It's not often that we parents actually get to enjoy a Kodak moment like the one above. So many times we live out our lives wondering whether or not our kids EVER listen to anything that we say. We talk, we guide, we preach and what do we get...a roll of the eyes and one of those short, insulted "uh" sounds that teenagers are so proficient at making. It is hard for us to believe that most of the time our children respect and even end up imitating our patterns of behavior whether they admit it or not. It is a fact of life that most of the time our sons and daughters are "chips" (and "chipettes") off of the "old block" (and "blockette"). They watch us from the day they are born and start mimicing our behaviors shortly thereafter. This continues for many years and parents or relatives will comment on how little Johnny looks and acts just like his daddy or mommy. Most of the time that's OK and you can almost be seen puffing out your chest with pride, when you see how smart he or she is. But then eventually, there comes a day when you notice that they are not so obedient and loving and you become convinced that they have turned toward the dark side. You also know that these bad habits could not have come from you and that they must have come from someone else...either your wife's side of the family or...you guessed it...a BAD CROWD. But even if they are really picking up bad habits from someone else, we would probably shocked to learn that even then they, are more than likely, imitating their primary role models...mom and dad.
Kids see everything we do...the good, the bad, and the ugly. They see how we smile, we show love, hate and so on. If door-to-door missionaries make an appearance on our front porch and want to come in to "share a message", do we say, "sure", "no way", or start frantically searching for reasons to "put them off"? Those little (and not so little) eyes and ears around us hear and see what we do and say. If we are honest and speak our convictions...they learn. If we are dishonest and manipulative...they learn that too. They learn degrees of truth and acceptability such as "white lies" are OK because they spare people's feelings and save them from pain or embarrassment. Cheating is OK if it's on your income taxes...it's a large faceless bureaucracy...and it's not like it's cheating on...you know... real people . It's OK to keep "found money" and therefore you don't have to worry about tracking down the rightful owner.
In addition to the above, our children also learn how to process, organize and treat information through our example. Although they often mimic our process strategies their choices of how they apply them may be different than ours and therefore we don't recognize ourselves in them as readily. For example, if we are bored, what do we do? Maybe the father may sit in front of the tv and drink beer every night to feel good or just to do...something. The son has no interest in alcohol but he may sit in front of the tv and eat cookies for the same reasons. The grandson may sit in front of the tv playing video games for hours, again for the same reasons. The common thread...all three were bored and handled it in the same way...inactivity.
I don't want to leave you with the impression that we are the ONLY influences on our children because we're not. I also don't want to make you think that we are totally responsible for all of our children's victories or failures, either...because it just isn't so. Each person must find their own path in life and although I think that free will does exist, I know that each of us has been heavily influenced by the people in our lives and "the road that we have traveled". So the next time you see a little bit of yourself in your child, let them know. You probably will get a roll of the eyes and an "Oh...mom!" but maybe not...maybe it will be one of those rare Kodak moments...or more.
Last Saturday night, I had one of those rare opportunities to spend some time alone, "stroll down memory lane", and relive some earlier life experiences.
Music has always been my doorway to the past and as the Baldwin household was settling down for a long winter's night, I found myself sitting alone in our TV room floor next to a portable radio listening to the "oldies " station. As I listened to the music of the sixities (my teenage years), I found myself becoming more and more antimated. I not only listened to the music but I started performing to it as well. Not only did my toes tap but my shoulders shrugged and my head bobbed much like I imagined the performers were doing. I even banged on my imaginary drums (my legs), strummed my imaginary guitar, and sang into my imaginary microphone (my fist). For a few short hours, the old man of forty-eight left his responsibilities behind and became a kid again.
Each record seemed to conjure up a different memory and I came to realize that I was reliving feelings as well as memories. I remembered the college classes, the two friends who took numerous LSD trips (now are a special ed. teacher and a drug counselor), smiled at my two song performance with the popular singing group, the Lettermen, at their concert, and recalled all the hopes, dreams, and plans we made during the "Age of Aquarius". I also came to realize that this time I was spending was not only relaxing but reminding me that my experiences are a part of me and it sometimes helps to relive them.
We all have memories locked inside of us. Some of them are good, some of them are bad, but they all make us what we are today. I think it is important to remember the past through our own "doorway" and remember that we weren't always an adult. Remember the joys and heartbreaks of being 15 (or any age) and remember the needs you had. A few moments of pleasant remanicing can yield a wealth of information to help you better understand your 15-year old (or any other aged) child.
Many of our memories are deeply buried within us and like it or not we are a product of those memories. They are what we were, what we are, and what we will be. Although now I am an adult and live in the here and now, there is a distinct part of me that is still a teenager. A part of me that is alive and well and living in the sixties.
The Legend of the Bear Behind the Couch
In the Baldwin household there is a legend of epic proportions
about the bear behind the couch and it began much like other legends do.
It has long been known within the family that when I doze off many magical things happen such as the walls begin to rattle, the cat runs and hides, and loud noises come from my room. Since I know that I do not snore, it became apparent that the noise must be caused by some large animal that had wandered into our house. The family decided that only a bear could create that kind of noise. The odd thing is, no matter how hard we would look, we could never find the bear. Just the other day, my wife said, "I think I heard that bear in the living room, did you hear it?" I said groggily, "Yes, but I think he must be behind the couch because I didn't see him anywhere." Needless to say, a quick glance behind the couch did not find the elusive animal and I was at a loss to explain what had happened. "He's vanished again, I don't understand how anything big enough to make that kind of racket could move that fast", I said. And so, the legend became complete and part of our family history.
Every family, in its sillier moments, creates its own legends. The sometimes sad thing about being a "responsible adult" is that we tend to suppress these fantasies because being silly is not the adult thing to do. But I think if you "back away" too many times, you miss one of the big joys of life...having a good laugh and sharing good times with people who are important to you...your family.
P.S. If you ever notice the same thing happening at your house, please let me know. He may be on the move!
Dadcat and the Grass-eater
Charlie Baldwin, Attack Cat, stretched lazily in the afternoon sun, snuggled up to the warm concrete, and prepared to take a long nap on his back porch. As he plopped his head down upon his paws, he noticed two of the big cats he lived with were pulling something out from under the house. "Oh no", he meowed. They were pulling out the stinky, noisy, grass-eater.
Charlie hated the grass-eater but the big cats seemed to enjoy pushing it around the yard. He could not see that it served any useful purpose other than stirring the birds up out of the bushes. Maybe that's why the big cats did it. Although he really couldn't remember seeing them chase birds, squirrels, or anything else.
As he watched the two big cats tinker with the grass eater, the kitten (named Scott) pulled on a rope attached to the grass-eater's head. After several pulls, he gave up and the big cat (named Dad) started yanking. Eventually, the grass-eater started his stinking and growling and Charlie settled down to watch Dadcat push the noisy thing around the yard. But what's this? It wasn't Dadcat...but the kitten Scott that pushed the stinker around the yard. He seemed to have some trouble moving it around. Charlie assumed that the grass-eater was stronger than the young kitten. Yet, despite his struggling, the kitten seemed to be enjoying his bout with the mechanical monster. "How strange", he thought. Then Charlie looked over at Dadcat and saw that he looked happy too.
Eventually, the kitten Scott finished with the grass-eater and he made it quiet. He had a shy smile on his face as if he knew that he had mastered the machine Charlie looked over at Dadcat and saw that he was smiling too. Charlie looked from the kitten's face to the cat's and back to the kitten's again. And then he knew why they were smiling. The kitten Scott wasn't a kitten anymore...he was becoming a grown cat. And both the kitten and the cat realized the importance of his newfound position in life.
As for Charlie Baldwin, Attack Cat, he was more interested in the important things in life. He stretched again...meowed lazily...and settled down into a long evening nap where he dreamed of chasing birds and saving the world from hoards of marauding mice.
A word about the "E" mouse above
When my daughter was very young, she would occasionally get to see reruns of the original Mickey Mouse Club. All of you former Mouseketeers will remember singing the theme song which spelled out Mickey Mouse's name. Only when her young ears heard the song, she framed it in words she knew. So...as she walked around the house belting out the theme song....it came out sounding something like this:
The amazing thing is that this was done with NO prompting from her old man. None...Nada ...absolutely nothing ....I 'm serious!... no,really...I'm not kidding.
© Copyright 1998 by Emil Baldwin, Jr.
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