Who’s in Control?

If I know you personally, let me assure you I am not writing about you or your child. All the children and their parents, in my sphere are not the subjects of this blog, and to be fair and honest, most of the children I see are behaving quite nicely.  I guess the kids I know are in this first paragraph!

          However, more and more, I’m seeing behavior of children and reactions from parents which causes me to wonder who truly is in control of their home.

          Here are a few examples of this lack of control issue:  Sitting in our beach chairs yesterday, we observed a dad and his boys. Obviously on their way off the beach, the dad commanded the guys to head for the car.

           “I’m going back in the water,” the littlest kid declared without a backward glance.

           “I said get to the car!” the father roared.

          At that point, the child scampered off to the surf, with his dad hollering, “Well o.k., but don’t get sandy!”  

Whew, unbelievable, because the child was then unsupervised (oh, yeah, the Red Flag warnings were up) as the others went to the car. As many are fond of saying today, “Seriously?”

On another occasion, we were down below the deck of an historic ship named The Californian, which sits in the harbor at San Diego. A dad and his two boys were there as well, surely pretending to sail the oceans, but not in a way expected of people aboard an antique and precious souvenir of days gone by. Yes, tourists are allowed to “steer” with the helm above, help turn the anchor chain, and peer into long unused bunks and galley. However, these guys were hopping around within the displays, checking out off limit cupboards and instruments. In this case, the father never said a word of reprimand to his sons!

While subbing in a church school kindergarten, I proceeded to introduce myself and help them with opening calendar activities. A darling little girl opened her mouth and yelled, “You shut up! It’s my turn to talk.” It’s all a blur after that. Although her parent wasn’t physically in the class, no one gets to that point in rudeness by five years old without a little help at home.

This kind of non or poor parenting seems be on the rise, but I do remember having a father on a field trip with our class in Sacramento MANY years ago who himself acted like a child. Rather than being in charge as he was asked, he allowed his group to disobey most rules, to arrive late for their appointment at the train museum by going to the magic shop instead, and by putting itching powder they’d been allowed to buy in a drinking fountain at the airport.

Parents can’t be their child’s buddy all the time, and believe it or not, kids want and need discipline with justice from them. So keep at it and don’t give up the goal of great kids!

Kayaking on the Pacific

            As I prepared for our adventure of kayaking on the ocean by pulling on a wet suit, buckling into a life vest, and snapping on a helmet, I was picturing a calm paddle from shallow water to not-too-deep water, and then around a bay. All this protection, however, especially the helmet, was making me a bit apprehensive and changing my thoughts. What could happen to cause a head injury, and how cold was it really going to be in the ocean depths? I guess falling off the kayak was possible, hence the vest.  I was soon to learn that kayaking on the Pacific Ocean was a bit different than kayaking on a calm, mountain lake, or even a bay, both of which we had done before. 

            Looking somewhat like a scuba diver, I walked with Don and twelve other people and two guides three blocks down to the beach where our guides explained just how we’d get onto our tandem kayak (affectionately known as a “divorce kayak”)  and out into the water.  So glad America’s Funniest Videos doesn’t have a video of that!  Needless to say, it was not a graceful process, but once we were aboard, our guide pushed us into the surf and our voyage truly began.

            Both of us paddled like mad to get over the first wave, out farther into the foaming breakers, up a large swell, and through a wave which crashed over the bow of the kayak. Oh hurray for the wetsuit!  Suddenly I realized two of our traveling companions had fallen off their kayak and were struggling to mount it again. Patting my life vest with affection, I continued to paddle, erratically smacking Don’s paddles with mine. While it was difficult to set up a rhythm, I doubt it would lead to divorce, especially since it was our forty-ninth anniversary.

            Exhilaration swept over me as my attention focused on the facts: We were out in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, cormorants were diving in and out of the water as they fished, and I was looking at the most amazing shoreline comprised of cliffs and caves.  On the cliffs, many varieties of birds and a seal sat sunning themselves, and as the waves collided with the rocks at the cave entrances, white water sprayed into the air.  The interior of one of the caves was our original destination, but because of the roughness of the surf, our leader had us stay out. I suppose we might have gotten use out of the helmets had we gone in!

            After paddling out to sit atop a kelp forest, and get a lesson on the uses and advantages of kelp, we headed back toward the beach. Our guides set up a race which we almost won…well, fourth out of ten.. We were also given an opportunity to slip off the kayak into the ocean for a quick swim. So tempting!

            Too quickly, it was time to go one at a time toward the shore and hopefully catch a wave to ride on to the beach without flipping forward. Taking my cue from Don who used to body surf a lot, I waited and then paddled mightily at the right time to catch the wave. We did it!  Sliding onto the shore gave me a sense of accomplishment and yes, joy!  What a great adventure, one I’m sure we’ll repeat.
I need to add that our daughter bought this trip for us and gave it to us as a gift certificate. Not sure we would have been made aware of such fun without it. Thanks Jenifer!

County Fairs

I can close my eyes and “see, hear, smell, and feel” the FAIR. It doesn’t matter which one I’m thinking about; Los Angeles County, San Diego County, Orange County, or the California State Fair at Sacramento. Indelible memories are in my brain of these incredible events.

            Throw out almost any word and I have memories to match!  Animals - Gigantic, muscular Clydesdale horses strutting their stuff, buildings filled with cages of rabbits with spots, floppy ears, tall ears, and various lengths of hair, rows and rows of cows, pigs, goats, and woolly sheep; Flowers – billows of blossoms everywhere, in huge displays of numerous types of orchids, competitions for who grew the loveliest rose or largest sunflower, and gardening ideas sprouting from patios, walls, pools, and flowerbeds.

            The word Talent brings to mind children dancing, groups singing, and handcrafts ranging from smooth, wooden objects to intricately-patterned quilts. A whole day could be spent gazing and marveling at decorated cakes and cookies, canned jams and jellies, and a host of other delicious, homemade goodies. Just the tip of the iceberg!

            Ice…that reminds me of thirst-quenching drinks and all the food, healthy and not so, that can be found at the fair. Deep-fried Trix, Tang, and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches are the newest items to emerge from boiling oil. Last year we saw avocados, Twinkies, and pickles cooked in grease, along with almost every other fried food one can imagine. Bar-be-que, corn on the cob, cream puffs, chocolate dipped ice cream on a stick, cinnamon rolls, and gingerbread all clamor for first place in my fair food dream.  

            Going back to my word-association exercise, the word Gadget makes me think of the commercial buildings where scores of “absolutely necessary” items are on display and their proponents actively promote the benefits and joys of owning them. Demonstrations of all types can be found in these buildings; how to transform vegetables into slices, cubes, or juice, how to clean jewelry, or how to get spots out of clothes and furniture using cleaning cloths made of the same easy-to-clean new-age-fabric. One time I even bought a beach jacket and a chamois made from the same stuff!

            Last word; Myriad -  Hundreds of impressions; art, architecture, people, music, horse racing, carnival, giant slide, bungie jumping, county displays, trains, rocks, jewelry, P-Nuttles, boats, RVs, school displays, spas. I could write a book, and almost got to when we had a verbal contract and press passes to the L.A. Fair. We spent nine days and nights walking around and interviewing people, but the project unfortunately fell through, but we have lovely memories. And guess what? We’re taking the train to the San Diego Fair next week. Never done that before!

Empty Nests

For several weeks, a dove has spent hours and hours sitting on her nest under the eaves of the carport at our house. Such an obedient little creature she was, following her instincts to keep her eggs warm and safe.  Almost like a pet to me, she got my greetings and “baby-talk” whenever I went outside, and she watched me with her soft, brown eyes.  I was excited for the day of hatching to arrive.  Her mate spent hours sitting with her as well, and to tell you the truth, I never saw the nest empty until last week, the day after we got home from our trip to Texas.  Once in a while this week I’d see her under the eaves, but most of the time, she was gone.

            I listened carefully for any peeping sounds of hungry babies, but heard nothing. Today I climbed up on my stepstool and took a picture of the inside of the nest by stretching up, placing the camera over the nest, and blindly snapping. When I looked at the picture, there were no birds, shells, or feathers in the nest.  All evidence of developing doves had disappeared.  I just don’t think the babies could have grown and flown away without us seeing anything. Very disappointing.

            Oddly enough, the same thing happened in our daughter’s yard this week, but with a darling hummingbird. She, too, sat on her tiny nest, only to disappear as well, leaving an empty nest when there should have been tiny, new birds.

            I can draw no conclusions or lessons from this experience except that this “empty nest” happens with humans as well, often taking us by surprise because we don’t expect it and have a tough time accepting the disappointment that lingers.

Mother’s Day

This morning I talked to an older woman whose answer to “What are you doing on Mother’s Day?” was so selfless. She responded that since there are several days coming up like Memorial Day, Fourth of July, picnics, and others when she’ll get to see her kids, she tells her two daughters and two daughters-in-law to have their own Mother’s Day with their kids and just send her a card. Refreshing!

My mom, like this woman, never worried about which day we’d celebrate with her, not just on Mother’s Day, but on Thanksgiving and Christmas as well.  It freed us up and actually made me want to spend more time with my mom.

Hopefully, I’m learning that lesson as well. If you want to enjoy your family, and have them enjoy your company, hold them loosely.

Camera Catastrophies

My last blog presented the succession of our family cameras. It occurred to me that not all the cameras we’d owned wound up at the garage sale because their lives had been cut short by accidents, and they’d ended up in a different sort of box.

            My memory doesn’t serve me well enough to create a list of childhood camera catastrophies, but one type of accident happened several times; the tiny clip on the top of my Ansco came unfastened, the back flopped open, and my film was exposed, rendering it useless. So sad when my last $1.00 had been spent on film.

            Several of our camera mishaps have taken place on vacations when every dime counts and repair or buying a new camera stretch the wallet thin. The one which stands out in my mind so clearly was during our trip to Washington D.C. during the Clintons’ first term in the White House. We came upon a photographer who had a life-sized cutout poster of Bill and Hillary, and he was charging a small fee to take a picture of people with the Clintons, using a person’s own camera.  It seemed like a good idea, but when the entrepreneur tried to snap it, the camera became rigid as stone. No way was it going to have the Clintons in its memory stick! It never took another picture and repair was more than a new one.

            The next scene opens in Hawaii where we are already inside a camera shop, hoping the guy can unstick Don’s 35 mm shutter release. After a few irrelevant questions about the camera, the proprietor began to punch at the button with a pen! We didn’t stay to see any more of this guy’s unconventional methods of fixing cameras, rented one for the rest of our stay, and took Don’s camera to Ritz when we got home.

            Two cameras have suffered being dropped. One, in the parking lot of Yellowstone Lodge got a shattered lens, and the other one…I have to tell the story! We were in New York City’s Grand Central Station with a friend who knew about the acoustics in the high-ceilinged building, and the tricks they played on ears. She wanted to take our picture in a corner outside a very famous bar to prove we’d been there, and impulsively grabbed for my camera. In “slow motion” I watched my almost new Sony Digital make a high arch in the air as it slipped from her hand, and land with a terrible sound on the marble floor. Honestly, a crowd gathered to see what would happen next. Nothing did. My little camera was dead, my friend devastated, and I, speechless. Not another vacation broken camera, my mind screamed. On the outside front corner, there was a little dent, and as I was examining it, the camera gave a whirr, came back to life, and served me well for several more years until I gave it to a young friend.

            And finally, this last weekend while on a VACATION to Anza Borrego, my last in a long line of cameras began to shake inside, leaving me with the feeling that I’d better save up for a new Sony because my next favorite activity to writing is taking pictures!

Camera Connections

When we set out to move from our home of thirty plus years in Upland, paring down became a necessity, and two huge garage sales helped to that end. Having lots of space in your home is conducive to saving items, and our cameras, childhood through the new century, were a dust-gathering collection. We placed each one in a box for the sale, reminiscing as we went.  Probably the oldest were a Brownie and an Ansco box camera, battery-less, eight print film eaters, which needed loading by hand.  Carefully hooking one end of the roll of film onto the take-up spool, and holding your breath as you turned the knob and hope it caught so the film could be advanced, the photographer prepared to take a prize-winning shot.. Of course, your subject had to be outside because there was no flash, and if a jiggle occurred, there went the prize.

            Several of the cameras in the carton were 35 mm, the type into which a film canister was loaded and advanced by manually turning a knob.  No more rolls of film accidentally exposed due to butter fingers! Later on, with the addition of a battery, film advanced on its own but needed to be rewound at the end of twenty-four exposures.  Flashbulbs were being added now, in single bulbs which crackled after flashing, and then in the amazing cube which rotated to provide four flashes before ejecting.

            Since the technology of camera design went forward at a faster-than-flashbulb pace, there were a few more different types in the box, including a Polaroid. Oh the joy of being able to see the picture just a few minutes after taking it!  I think that was the beginning of photographers needing instant gratification. Each photo still had to be thought through and carefully considered before pushing the button so as not to waste the precious rolls or film packs. Many important scenes were lost in those few seconds of thought, and unless you were also able to process your film, there was never anything in photography so disheartening than getting back a set of prints which were not what you’d hoped.

            Digital cameras changed all that, and there were none in the box for the garage sale.  The ability to see the scene, captured immediately in the tiny window, changed my way of taking pictures. No longer afraid of wasting film, I snapped with happy abandon and deleted with satisfaction any picture which didn’t suit me. The memory sticks, thumb drives, and computers can store thousands of photos. Several online sites I use not only store my treasures for me, but will turn them into souvenir mugs, books, and magnets. When my parents passed away, there were many albums and scrapbooks left behind for me to go through, and not a one was digital. What fun (tongue in cheek) my kids will have sorting out my memories!