On July 4th this past summer, in a student pub in Edinburgh, a British prof and I raised our classes and toasted the American people on their "Independence Day." We had both lived in the USA, and he still teaches there. As we toasted, I began to muse over the idea of "independence" and why it is such a valued ideal. And I thought of my own relationships to people who were both gaining and losing their "independence."
Parkinsons Disease is a horrible illness. My mother is a bright, thoughtful, and strong-minded Swedish-Canadian. Last year, when Dad passed away just a few days after they celebrated their Golden Anniversary, Mom decided to remain in their apartment. It was a difficult winter for her, and since March she has been keenly aware that control over her body and her circumstances is gradually sliding away. She has moved from her apartment to a Seniors' Lodge, and is now waiting for a full care facility to open up for her, all in a matter of a few months. In it all, she has kept a positive attitude, and even come outside of her usual reserved and introspective character. And my siblings and I have discovered a rather cheerful and humorous person, in spite of the difficulties in which she finds herself.
On the other end of the wonderful women in my life, my daughter just graduated from High School last June. On the day of her last exam, I drove her from the school to the airport, where she traveled - alone - to Berlin, Norway, Denmark, England, and is presently in Mexico with a team from the University of Calgary, where she will be in studies this fall. I am amazed, proud, and terrified of her newfound self-confidence and personal resolve to do things her way. She has looked forward to gaining her independence, and this summer has been a huge change for us.
It is upsetting! In both of these relationships, thinking in terms of "dependence" and "independence" evokes fears of impending and unavoidable loss in my not-to-distant future. To be sure, neither my relationship with my mother nor with my daughter have been perfect. Though most of the problems have been my own doing. But I love them dearly, and I know they love me. Meaningless comments about "letting your daughter move from dependence to independence, and ultimately, to inter-dependence" - paralleled by equally glib suggestion on how to "preserve your mother's independence" - seem to imply that "dependence" is a horrible thing; that it is an infantile state from which we must "break free" and avoid as long as possible.
Perhaps "dependence" and "independence" are merely constructs we use to mask the ebb and flow changes in our relationships. As far as I can tell, my daughter remains "dependent" on us. I know that Tracy and I will be paying for her education, even as she continues to live in our home. In fact, she wants this dependence. It is only that the points of her "dependence" are changing. I myself experienced this when my father passed away; I felt the loss of a certain "dependence" that I had on him, such as his warm friendship, his wise words, his infectuous passion of people and for God. On the other hand, as far as my daughter's "independence" goes, that began with her first breath, if not before. The same holds true for my mother, who is still "independent," though the way that her "independence" is finding expression is radically transforming itself. And she is not becoming "dependent" on her family, but rather her "dependence" is taking a new shape.
I suspect that there is no progressive or evolving line here, but rather a revolving and transforming way of relating to others. The words "dependent" and "independent" are inflated by Enlightenment individualism, while "interdependence" ideas appear to be nothing more than attempts to curtail such individualism and pull people back into some notion of community. "To gain independence" seems to celebrate "breaking free" from binding or limiting relationships, but fails to see that we never really gain "independence" but only new forms or shapes to our relationships. Britain and the USA have redefined their relationship several times since the 18th century, and today they are still "dependent" on each other in various ways. I have observed that divorce merely redefines a marriage relationship and rarely dissolves it, especially when children are involved. And teens "breaking free" from their parents, are usually just redefining the role of parents in their lives, not tossing them out. In most cases, changing realtionships shift the points of "dependence" and "independence." Thus these words embody the fluxuations that inevitably take place in our relationships.
I am musing over this, but I am not sure what it all means. It has certainly been odd to observe these two seemingly different developments taking place to two of the dearest people in my life. And this reflection has given me some hope ...
August 28, 2008
April 23, 2008
Illigetimus non carborundum
I am fortunate. By no skill or charm of my own, I happened to have become a life partner of the most wonderful gal. Tracy and I hooked up 24 years ago and she still puts up with me and my shenanigans. Our van now fills up with three teenagers, a dog, and a cat. Life appears rather full. While home is good, even if it can always be improved, trouble often crowds in from the outside. If we have one family characteristic, it is that we are all easily deflated by outside pressure and overcome by "turkeys" crowding our lives.
Living in a new city, Calgary, has brought it's share of outside pressures and "swarming turkeys." In fact, living in Indiana and Germany was much easier than returning to Canada and reestablishing our home after four years of nomadism. But things are good. The kids are in good schools, in spite of their claim to the contrary. The boys are snowboarding and mountain biking. My daughter will have visited four countries this year, and one of them twice. I am stumbling along in my dissertation while trying to keep up my end of the financial responsibilities. And Tracy has a new job. Although we all have our share of "turkeys" to deal with in our respective corners of Calgary, Tracy has it particularly rough as she often deals with her turkeys on a daily basis, with no escape. Today she is overwhelmed by one of these fowls who flung some of its excrement all over her. Some days are like that, when we wonder how we will ever keep our heads up when others are pecking and flinging their junk.
When she emailed me about her current turkey encounter, I recalled something that a teacher of mine told a few of us geeky Greek students in one of our more difficult classes. Here's how I remember his story. One summer he was feeling overwhelmed by his effort to learn this ancient language, and after one particularly frustrating class he stumbled out into the main hallway and leaned over the banister where he noticed the university crest imprinted on the slate floor below. He began to ponder the Latin words "Non Illegitimus Carborundum" at the bottom of the crest when a priest happened to pass by. Maurice asked him to translate the words. The priest just shrugged his shoulders and said with a sigh, "It says, Don't let the bastards grind you down." Maurice thought the translation was not given with much precision, but he felt strangely encouraged by this vernacular version and it gave him renewed courage and fortitude for his studies.
I have often thought of this story. Although I suspect it may have been a fictional account intended to insert humor in an otherwise overly dull and tedious subject, even now I find some kind of refuge in it.
So, "Don't let the bastards grind you down." Many people go through life with their umbilical cord in hand, looking for people, places, and things to drain of all life. While we should listen, care, and be as compassionate as possible, their problems cannot become ours when we are in no position to solve them. If we let them burden us, they will rob us of the things that are currently in our hands to do and time with the people we ought to care about. And of such there is "enough for today."
More importantly, is that I do not join the swarming turkeys. Tracy has enough to put up with at work, and the kids have their share of turkeys at school. All to often it is I who pecks and flings junk all over. God help me!
Living in a new city, Calgary, has brought it's share of outside pressures and "swarming turkeys." In fact, living in Indiana and Germany was much easier than returning to Canada and reestablishing our home after four years of nomadism. But things are good. The kids are in good schools, in spite of their claim to the contrary. The boys are snowboarding and mountain biking. My daughter will have visited four countries this year, and one of them twice. I am stumbling along in my dissertation while trying to keep up my end of the financial responsibilities. And Tracy has a new job. Although we all have our share of "turkeys" to deal with in our respective corners of Calgary, Tracy has it particularly rough as she often deals with her turkeys on a daily basis, with no escape. Today she is overwhelmed by one of these fowls who flung some of its excrement all over her. Some days are like that, when we wonder how we will ever keep our heads up when others are pecking and flinging their junk.
When she emailed me about her current turkey encounter, I recalled something that a teacher of mine told a few of us geeky Greek students in one of our more difficult classes. Here's how I remember his story. One summer he was feeling overwhelmed by his effort to learn this ancient language, and after one particularly frustrating class he stumbled out into the main hallway and leaned over the banister where he noticed the university crest imprinted on the slate floor below. He began to ponder the Latin words "Non Illegitimus Carborundum" at the bottom of the crest when a priest happened to pass by. Maurice asked him to translate the words. The priest just shrugged his shoulders and said with a sigh, "It says, Don't let the bastards grind you down." Maurice thought the translation was not given with much precision, but he felt strangely encouraged by this vernacular version and it gave him renewed courage and fortitude for his studies.
I have often thought of this story. Although I suspect it may have been a fictional account intended to insert humor in an otherwise overly dull and tedious subject, even now I find some kind of refuge in it.
So, "Don't let the bastards grind you down." Many people go through life with their umbilical cord in hand, looking for people, places, and things to drain of all life. While we should listen, care, and be as compassionate as possible, their problems cannot become ours when we are in no position to solve them. If we let them burden us, they will rob us of the things that are currently in our hands to do and time with the people we ought to care about. And of such there is "enough for today."
More importantly, is that I do not join the swarming turkeys. Tracy has enough to put up with at work, and the kids have their share of turkeys at school. All to often it is I who pecks and flings junk all over. God help me!
February 28, 2008
No longer a visitor.
A voice from my youth, Larry Norman, passed away four days ago.
Growing up in Christian circles during the 60s and 70s, Larry's music and message was a breath of fresh air to me and many of my generation. He dislodged our mediocrity and indifference to the implications of the message of Jesus, whom we claimed to believe and follow. Larry asked two questions that resonated in my teenage mind: "Why don't you look into Jesus? He's got the answer!" and "Why should the devil have all the good music?" Both questions were of some importance in those days. In the sterile and sheltered environment of the private Christian school where I first discovered Larry's "Only Visiting this Planet," we had been denied any sounds that even hinted of Rock and Roll. And Larry's music headed the verboten list, which included such unlikely "instruments of the devil" as Evie Thornquist and those who had further radicalized Larry's message and style, such as Chicago's Resurrection Band.
If the devil ever had all the good music, Larry robbed him blind. I remember one concert in the 80s where he declined singing this popular tune, simply replying to the request, "He [the Devil] doesn't!" And Larry was right, as his influence reached far beyond his own music, audience, and times. Not only did he shape a generation of singers and songwriters, he left a legacy of songs that ring as true today as they ever did. For example, "The Great America Novel" disturbs our - i.e., Christians in N. America - cocky confidence in our own culture and ongoing love affair with guns and war, "Readers Digest" reminds us that we still have not found any answers to the problems around us, and "If God is my Father" confronts our hatred of those who are not inside the narrow perimeters of our own religiosity. Who sings like this today?
But it was Larry's simple, clear, and uncompromising "talking 'bout Jesus just the same" that gripped me every time I heard him. To this day I often find myself humming lines from "SixSixtySix" and "UFO," even when it's message has become too passé for many Christians. There is an immediacy in Larry's music that upsets my own passivity. And when I turn on the evening news, I can swear that I hear Larry humming somewhere in the background.
I never met or knew Larry. But there are thousands like myself who are indebted to him for all that he brought to our lives and how he became a faithful voice in our religious wilderness.
"Hymn To The Last Generation"
By Larry Norman
Come to reason, face the day,
Now's the season, old things pass away
Stand beside us, take His hand,
He will guide us, in another land.
Thanks Larry!
For more information about Larry Norman - http://www.larrynorman.com
Search youtube.com for clips of Larry and his exeptional songs
A superb example of Larry's passsionate and yet humorous side is at http://youtube.com/watch?v=QBODgYVVGvY
Growing up in Christian circles during the 60s and 70s, Larry's music and message was a breath of fresh air to me and many of my generation. He dislodged our mediocrity and indifference to the implications of the message of Jesus, whom we claimed to believe and follow. Larry asked two questions that resonated in my teenage mind: "Why don't you look into Jesus? He's got the answer!" and "Why should the devil have all the good music?" Both questions were of some importance in those days. In the sterile and sheltered environment of the private Christian school where I first discovered Larry's "Only Visiting this Planet," we had been denied any sounds that even hinted of Rock and Roll. And Larry's music headed the verboten list, which included such unlikely "instruments of the devil" as Evie Thornquist and those who had further radicalized Larry's message and style, such as Chicago's Resurrection Band.
If the devil ever had all the good music, Larry robbed him blind. I remember one concert in the 80s where he declined singing this popular tune, simply replying to the request, "He [the Devil] doesn't!" And Larry was right, as his influence reached far beyond his own music, audience, and times. Not only did he shape a generation of singers and songwriters, he left a legacy of songs that ring as true today as they ever did. For example, "The Great America Novel" disturbs our - i.e., Christians in N. America - cocky confidence in our own culture and ongoing love affair with guns and war, "Readers Digest" reminds us that we still have not found any answers to the problems around us, and "If God is my Father" confronts our hatred of those who are not inside the narrow perimeters of our own religiosity. Who sings like this today?
But it was Larry's simple, clear, and uncompromising "talking 'bout Jesus just the same" that gripped me every time I heard him. To this day I often find myself humming lines from "SixSixtySix" and "UFO," even when it's message has become too passé for many Christians. There is an immediacy in Larry's music that upsets my own passivity. And when I turn on the evening news, I can swear that I hear Larry humming somewhere in the background.
I never met or knew Larry. But there are thousands like myself who are indebted to him for all that he brought to our lives and how he became a faithful voice in our religious wilderness.
"Hymn To The Last Generation"
By Larry Norman
Come to reason, face the day,
Now's the season, old things pass away
Stand beside us, take His hand,
He will guide us, in another land.
Thanks Larry!
For more information about Larry Norman - http://www.larrynorman.com
Search youtube.com for clips of Larry and his exeptional songs
A superb example of Larry's passsionate and yet humorous side is at http://youtube.com/watch?v=QBODgYVVGvY
February 7, 2008
Check it out
If you are like me - rather tired of the sterility of much of Christianity and what we call "Church," looking for challenging and thoughtful reflection on what it means to follow Christ today - I urge you to take a look at one of the more honest and refreshing blogs around authored by Scott Williams. We were friends back in High School, but since those years of sheltered "Christianity," Scott has travelled down some difficult paths that have led him to unusual spaces of friendship and service. You may not always agree with him, but he will leave you thinking about things that really matter.
December 8, 2007
Not a blogger
I may be a lot of things, but I am not a blogger. So why this blog? Well, I just signed up so I could leave comments on the blogs of friends who only allow comments from other bloggers. Perhaps I will leave comments from time to time ... we'll see.
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