Daily Read #3: Eyes Wide Shut

Continue your streak of a doing a very good thing into the weekend.

View: My Dad's Eyes and other finalists here:
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So every family likely has a story fairly typical in theme to this one. Family's on vacation and in addition to fun in the sun parents want children/teenagers to have an emotionally/spiritually expanding component to the trip*. Parents enthusiastically find the obscure location of just such a monument/exhibit/relic/program. *[Through my parent lens I now see that while these motives are nonetheless sincere emotional/spiritual pit stops tend to be free, not very crowded and clean (that is unless you've made pilgrimage to Mecca or the banks of the Ganges) so that sweetens the motivation somewhat I'm sure.]

Bless their souls, Children/Teenagers are more often than not less than impressed by such 'weightiness' and do what they can to facilitate a quick exit by exploiting a parents desire for their children to look well trained and proceeding to do what ever it takes to drive those present's attention to how truly unruly they can be. Likely we've all been on both ends of this tug of war and if you haven't, someday you'll have the chance which will make you that much more sympathetic when you see in others' children what you've already endured in your own.

So I could find a case study of said phenomenon in any of my siblings but this blog is supposed to be all R&R all the time, so as promised the heroine/antagonist is this blog's leading lady.

It was the mid 90's and we're on an extended family vacation in SoCal. We would eventually hit all of the kid approved must see sites but day 2 of the trip was a Sunday so in keeping with the spirit of the day. Our parents outlined a Sabbath day appropriate schedule. Fortunately my mother was born with a family history/church history homing device that pulls her towards locations of significance to the upper branches of our family tree. On this particular occasion there was a Mormon Battalion* visitor's center not too far from some of the other sites on the day's itinerary why not stop in and stay a while.

Our great great grandfather had been part of the Mormon Battalion and I'd imagine that if we were to go today our elevated awareness of our small place in a rich heritage would would relish the opportunity. However something about puberty clouds the mind's capacity to see the interconnectedness of one's existence with that of ancestors and future progeny.

The Mormon Battalion Memorial visitor center was pretty typical of what you find at an LDS church history site--staffed by adorable senior couple missionaries, period pieces of clothing/machinery/weaponry et al, and a movie that gave a multimedia recreation of the featured event. It followed the expected script to a T. We went through the tour, saw the displays, sat down to watch the movie.

I don't remember much that stands out of any of the three components other than the movie did have a particularly moving scene where the men say good bye to their families leaving them trekking across the plains as they walk to defend a country that had repeatedly and very recently turned a blind eye to their persecutions and plight. The movie ended and the lights came on as our young minds quickly raced towards the anticipated exit. The majority of the group did quickly exit the theater and the visitors center.

We turned to our parents--mom was not surprisingly redfaced and damp, but she was reaching for a tissue, not her keys. The executive branch of the family called an on the spot audible that our 'house' would wait the half hour to watch the movie again. Again is a very bitter pill to a teenager at a visitors center. The five of us quickly threw ourselves into the Kübler-Ross grief cycle: which is manifested through the following stages.

Shock stage: Initial paralysis at hearing the bad news.
Denial stage: Trying to avoid the inevitable.
Anger stage: Frustrated outpouring of bottled-up emotion.
Bargaining stage: Seeking in vain for a way out.
Depression stage: Final realization of the inevitable.
Testing stage: Seeking realistic solutions.
Acceptance stage: Finally finding the way forward.

The time spent at each stage was variable but all of us passed rather quickly to the acceptance stage. All of us but Rachel that is. At the brink of teenage indignation, Rachel wasn't going to just accept what she felt strongly was an unrighteous exercise of parental dominion. They had no right to make her watch or listen to that movie again. So returning to the grief cycle, let's just say Rachel never arrived at the acceptance stage. Her 14 year old war council convened and came up with a strategy of resistance. Problem: I don't want to watch this again and I can't possibly leave. Resources available: Limited to what's on person. Fingers and thumbs check. Initiating a self sensory deprivation defense, Rachel put her fingers over her eyes and her thumbs in her ears (she may or may not have employed the verbal mantra of 'You can't make me'and waited out the entire move without seeing or hearing a second of it.

You've seen kids do this before---when they're four. But if it works then, it's not really going to lose it's efficacy just because the holes to be plugged and what you have to plug them have gotten bigger. And work it did. Objectives don't see movie/hear movie/do embarrass instigators of the situation were all accomplished.
We ended up having a marvelous trip and even this brief episode has been one of the crown jewels of rememberance. Parents and Grandparents laugh now about what was probably at the time no laughing matter.

So you long time parents may have noticed by now there is what my parents call generational justice where childhood actions seem to trigger a Kharmic cycle that causes a now adult child to face something that seems more than just incidentally related to a particular event/action/reaction of their childhood. Well I see a definite paring between Rachel's Sunday trip to the Mormon Battalion visitors center at 14 and a very poignant event at 25.

If Rachel had known what lay ahead of her as a teenager she likely would have been quite empathetic to the dramatized scene of the men leaving their families to venture into the unknown to face the dangers of war leaving families with nothing to do but continue on their journey. As now is history, she would marry a National Guardsmen and unless you've had your thumbs in your ears and your fingers clamped over your eyes for last 10 years you'll understand that there have been few volunteer servicemen that have avoided atleast one tour of duty in the last decade. Which means every one of these military families, including Rachel's has had a very similar moment of Goodbye.

Ryan's unit left for Iraq in 2005 and was there for over a year. Much like the mormon battalion they were protected and all returned safe and sound but there was no guarantee* that such would be the case on the day of tearful goodbyes. We were with Rachel for most of this goodbye at the National Guard Armory in Cedar. While perhaps the 14 year old part of her inner psyche would have loved to retreat into some corner of the situation and put her thumbs in her ears and cover her eyes, at 25 she had gained mastery of her inner pubescent and was nothing short of graceful. [*Not completely true if you understand the connection between Ryan's guard unit the 222 and the original Mormon Battalion].

Where most women on the outside would likely envision themselves to be somewhere between a wreck and a train wreck, Rachel was strong, composed and resolved. Her man didn't walk away from a nuclear meltdown. He left a wife, a two year old and a newborn who would miss him terribly but showed on all faces and fronts that she would stand strong till his return.

The rest of us were more than impressed by her demonstrated resolve and composure. Given the occasion we later asked her about how she had done so well. She said that she had lived that event that moment for countless mornings the months previous to its arrival. She'd get in the shower, take herself there in her mind let all of the anticipated emotions rise up and then envision herself the master of HMS emotion. Cryings of little consequence in the shower. She said that she got to the point where her visualizations of grace under fire were so real that when faced with the reality of the situation she became what she wanted to be as she walked very familiar emotional terrain with her head held high.

Lessons learned: First, grace, like all virtues, isn't something that is either inherent or it isn't; those who pay the price of cultivation will enjoy the fruits. Rachel has on more than one occasion shown that she has paid that price. And it isn't a patented technique so if you anticipate an adversity of any range, scope or intensity start taking longer showers. The increased water bill will be worth the control of your water works.

Second, for parents your fourteen year old's demonstrated lack of any particular refinement is not a life sentence. Hang in there, likely she'll impress you one day when it really matters.

Thanks for reading. Thanks for sharing with a friend. And of course most of all thanks for voting.

View: My Dad's Eyes and other finalists here:
http://contest.hoopesvision.com/finalists.html
Vote for: My Dad's Eyes in the humorous category here:
http://contest.hoopesvision.com/vote.html