DadCentric

A Small Tragedy

It was suggested, by my dear wife, that we give Lucas something special for his third birthday. The gift of life. No, not a new pancreas. A living thing. A fish, in this case. He loves SeaWorld, and this could be his little own aquatic entertainment park, a park with the added benefit of having in its sole, tiny tank an animal that won't slowly go mad over the course of years spent in captivity.

"A fish", I said, "is a bad idea. What happens if - when - it dies a week later?"

We have a pet, as you know - Mick, our beloved dog, our faithful canine companion, and the centerpiece of our eventual first conversation with the kid about Death. "Well, Lucas, Mick was an old boy, and now he's up in Heaven with the other doggies, barking at the sun and chasing birdies through the clouds...what? Do I believe in Heaven? Er...well...oh, look, the Doodlebops are on!" Not something I'm looking forward to. As George Carlin once said, when you buy a pet, you know it's going to end badly. You've just purchased a small tragedy!

Hopefully, that chat is a ways away. (Barring that, hopefully the Koreans perfect pet cloning, and barring that, hopefully I can find the Pet Sematary. Sometimes dead is not better.) I'm just not ready to talk to a three-year-old about what it means to die. I have this horrific vision of him wandering into the bathroom just as I'm sending Cleo The Goldfish "down the pipe where the pee-pee goes". More to the point, he's eventually going to have someone close to him - a pet, or a person - pass away. I'd prefer that he learns about that later, rather than sooner, because the first time it happens, something inside of you passes away as well.

So Beth agreed  - no fish this year. He's really liking soccer these days, so I suggested a little soccer goal for the backyard. Good game, soccer. Nobody ever got killed playing soccer, right?

We Are The Eggmen

It's never wise to put all of your eggs in one basket.   Any chicken can tell you that. 

Let's say you do though, and perhaps you don't want to chance that said eggs wind up poached.  Let's say you really want them scrambled.  Maybe with cheese melted on them.  No problem.  Just pull up to the omelet bar that is a PGD (preimplantation genetic diagnosis) clinic with a fistful of dollars and a pocketful of sperm and you too can play Dr. Moreau.

According to CNN, it is not just the questionable procedure of creating "perfect" babies that is sparking debate, but the slightly more questionable procedure of creating "flawed" babies.  Basically, you might want your omelet a little burnt, because a)you like it that way, and b)you're paying for it.  Sure, that might go over okay at brunch, but I can't imagine justifying the deliberate handicapping of an embryo so that Johnny can have a disability just like mommy and daddy.

Embryo screening, which can run about $15,000 per pop, is usually used to detect any abnoralities in a fetus, which if found is often aborted.  That pisses off enough people in its own right.  However, the possiblity exists that doctors could choose to fertilize an embryo with defects, should the parent request such a thing.

The examples that some consider as acceptable for tinkering are duplicating dwarfism and deafness.  I understand a parent wanting their child to be like them, but why would they deny said child an opportunity to have a healthier or fuller life?

There are many within the communities of dwarfism and deafness, and obviously others, that feel they are not disabled.  I respect that.  Roll with what you're given.  I applaud it.  However, I can't understand someone that cannot hear wishing the same upon someone they love.

For example, it's one thing to have known and seen everything about John Lennon, but wouldn't it be better to hear him than not?  We've all seen Mr. Holland's Opus.  Music isn't limited to the hearing, but man, it sure takes it further.

The best quote from the CNN article is attributed to Cara Reynolds of New Jersey, who considered embryo screening before deciding to adopt a dwarf baby.

"You cannot tell me that I cannot have a child who's going to look like me," said an outraged Reynolds.  "It's just unbelievably presumptuous and they're playing God."

Hello kettle, it's the pot.  You're black.

How is altering the natural act of egg fertilization the way God wanted it?  Just roll the chicken dice like everyone else.

Coo-Coo-Kachoo.

Can You Hear Me Now? Good.

I'm sure you're all as frantic as I am about what to do about the safety of our families in light of recent revelations made to that crazy loon our brother in Christ, Pat Robertson, by the Man Upstairs.  Yes, we here on the left coast are apparently in line for something akin to a big macking tsunami if what was revealed to Pat during his most recent "prayer retreat" ends up being true.  The only thing I'm having a little difficulty with - and please, I'm not trying to discredit Mr. Robertson as he is truly a prophet of God - is the fact that he questions whether or not he may have "heard the Lord right" during all this.

Correct me if I'm wrong here, but, doesn't God kind of sound like James Earl Jones when he talks?  At least he did in The Ten Commandments.  I'm pretty sure it's one of those deep, loud, booming voices that carries pretty far at the very least.  My guess is that, if the Lord Almighty spoke to you, He would probably make it a point to 1) speak loud enough for you to hear and 2) enunciate. 

So, Pat...maybe you could hit Him up again and verify all this for us.  It's important stuff, you know.  The safety of my family is at stake here.  Besides, I'd like a confirmation before moving to Kansas.

True Blue

Anyone watch CSI last night?  Well I did.  Not the entire thing mind you.  TiVo and TiVo-like devices are a wonderful thing.  I was only able to catch the first 20 minutes or so, but something caught my attention.  The mother of this young girl, who, by the way, was a prodigy - all of 12 years old and a senior in high school - called her daughter an "indigo child."  And then went on to say how attuned to the world and people around her she was.  (This is about the time I ended up doing something else - I think I decided to catch 20 minutes or so of Wednesday night's Lost - yes, TiVo does contribute to my attention deficit (and please, no offense to those who are actually diagnosed ADD - I am easily distracted) - so I have no idea how this whole thing ended, but I was intrigued by the term "indigo child.")  So you know I had to look it up today.

Indigo children is a New Age term used to refer to a set of children having certain special psychological and spiritual attributes. The indigo child concept was first publicised by the book The Indigo Children, written by the husband and wife team of Lee Carroll and Jan Tober. Carroll insists that the concept was obtained via conversations with a spiritual entity known as "Kryon". The adjective "indigo" is used because it is claimed these children appear with an indigo-hued aura.

Well, slap my ass and call me Charlie.  These guys oughta get together with TomKat and Vinny Barbarino.  Now, I am not one to call anyone on their spiritual beliefs - you can believe in whatever you want to believe.  I'm Catholic, I carry my own oddities and guilt-ridden baggage.  So I looked past the whole "Kryon" and aura thing and wanted to find out what exactly sets "indigo children" apart from those with inferior hues.  Well, here are the attributes of an "indigo child":

• They come into the world with a feeling of royalty (and often act like it).
• They have a feeling of "deserving to be here," and are surprised when others don't share that.
• Self-worth is not a big issue; they often tell the parents "who they are."
• They have difficulty with absolute authority (authority without explanation or choice).
• They simply will not do certain things; for example, waiting in line is difficult for them.
• They get frustrated with systems that are ritually oriented and don't require creative thought.
• They often see better ways of doing things, both at home and in school, which makes them seem like "system busters" (nonconforming to any system).
• They seem antisocial unless they are with their own kind. If there are no others of like consciousness around them, they often turn inward, feeling like no other human understands them. School is often extremely difficult for them socially.
• They will not respond to "guilt" discipline ("Wait till your father gets home and finds out what you did").
• They are not shy in letting it be known what they need.

Hmmmm - is it just me or are these the exact same qualities one would attribute to a brat?  If I saw a child with this kind of personality, I think I would be quietly reassuring myself, "Thank God that's not my child."  But, that's just me.

So, You Wanna Be A Shiite?

As a kid, I remember sitting in church listening to the preacher tell us horror stories about how, any minute now, Communists could come bursting through the church doors [in rural Georgia], put guns to our heads and give us the choice of either denouncing The Lord Jesus Christ or taking a bullet in our skull.  Um...excuse me, I'm 7 years old.  The entire church membership has already laughed at me because I dog-paddled when I entered the baptismal pool.  I'm pissed my Mom wouldn't let me wear my football cleats to service.  Jack Warner, my friend/nemesis, has managed to sit next to the girl in pew 3 that I'm madly in love with, but, who will have nothing to do with me because I accidentally told her her feet stink.  Now, I have to figure out what I'd do when the Communists come calling?  Hell, I can't even decide what cereal I want for breakfast.

Yeah, religion was kind of like that for me.  Stressful, confusing, scary - everything it's cracked up to be and more!  I thought we Baptists had it bad until I saw this picture of the Shiites doing their thing for Ashura, which I think is the Holy Day of Knife Whacking.  Damn, even with the Communist thing I wouldn't have had to pull my own trigger.  I guess I should count my proverbial blessings, huh?

So, I started thinking about the idea of religion and how/if I'd introduce it to my daughters.  I will probably wait till one of them asks about it.  But, when they do, to where do I point them?  (I think I may stray away from the whole Muslim thing - it's just not getting good PR these days...probably a little un-hip, if you know what I mean).  I don't want to leave them hanging with no response or a "figure it out yourself", kiddo.  I'd like to have some sort of plan of attack.  What are your plans for this kind of stuff?

Spiral Scouts - Like the BSA and GSA, Only Not

I'll cop to reading Fark at work. I came across this piece, and it got me to thinking about whether or not I'd be OK with Lucas being a Boy Scout.

I gotta admit - I like the Spiral Scouts. I say this as a former Boy Scout, one who happily did not have the same experience as Canteen Boy. Good times - the camping, the merit badges, eating the candy bars that I was supposed to be selling to raise money for the troop and sticking my parents with the bill. It should come as no surprise that I was not an Eagle Scout (in any sense), but I was a troop leader (Junior Assistant Scoutmaster!) up through my sophomore year in high school. (Then I discovered that if you wanted to get laid, looking like this was not the way to go about it). As a grownup, though, I'm not too keen on the exclusionary factor - the BSA loves God, and we all know God doesn't like gay people, just ask Pat Robertson. Because the BSA is a non-profit organization that exists for the betterment of children and not to establish any kind of monopoly over youth groups, they sent the Spiral Scouts (with their vast horde of Pagan Followers - a whole 600 people!) a cease-and-desist letter. Looks like somebody's gonna earn their Corporate Bullying merit badge! Seems to me that the Spiral Scouts are doing nothing more than offering kids who might feel unwanted by the "real" Boy Scouts an opportunity to do something similar. Plus - you know that when the Spiral Scouts are sitting around the campfire, they're not crooning "Kumbayah" - they're singing along to Zeppelin's fourth album.

Church, State, and Circumcision in NYC

I thought I'd close out the week with something light. I'd heard of the practice detailed in this New York Times article, but assumed that it was an urban legend. Guess not. Metzitzah b'peh is practiced by a small, but apparently vocal, group of orthodox Jews, and the issue brings up a number of questions.

Question 1: EWWWW?

Question 2: Where does it say that religious practices which may cause harm to others are permissible under the Constitution? (Before the anti-circ people comment about circs in general, I think we can all agree that there's a big difference between having an incision cleaned and treated in a sterile environment by a trained medical professional and having it done via hummer in someones living room by Rabbi Dyson).

Question 3: Can we agree that "it's a centuries-old practice" should never be used as justification for anything? Or are we that keen on bringing back such other wonderful centuries-old practices as slavery,  witch-burning, and human sacrifice?

Question 4: What's the world coming to when I actually agree with something Christopher Hitchens says? And yes, I do see this as a form of fanaticism, as I do any time any religion zealously clings to its beliefs in the face of what we know to be true today.

Santa Gave Me A Bible?

Raised an Independent Fundamental Baptist, the kind of folks who think Southern Baptists are too liberal, you better believe Christmas was all about Jesus.  Before opening our gifts, we read the story of Jesus' birth and prayed to God as we thanked him for the ultimate gift - giving up his son to the Italians, I mean, Romans, so we wouldn't have to burn for eternity in the lake of fire and brimstone that was Satan's crib - Hell.  We even did birthday cakes for Jesus.  (Strangely enough, I often wondered why we'd blow out the candles on his behalf, with him being omnipotent and omnipresent and all.)  Yes, "Santa" came, but there was always a wink and a smile from Mom and Dad that left suspicions in the back of my mind that perhaps it wasn't Santa after all.  I think I was able to put two and two together the one year that Santa gave me a Bible.

I think I was 7 or so.  Already digesting the different opinions floating around the playground at school about the authenticity of Santa, mixed with the theories I was forming from my parent's lack of promoting the whole Santa thing on the home front, all I needed was a little push and I would be ready to finally put the whole Saint Nick thing to rest.  And I got it Christmas morning that year.  Imagine my excitement when, upon waking up in the wee hours to feast my eyes upon the Christmas bounty, I find a brand new, brown leather, King James Version, Red-Letter edition, Scofield Bible with my name engraved on front.  Um...hello?  You got my list, right Santa?  I don't remember including religious paraphernalia.

First of all, I was totally happy with the Children's Bible I'd been carrying to church functions 3 times a week for the past 4 years.  Second, IT'S CHRISTMAS FOR GOD'S SAKE!  That usually means a bike, a Big Jim or something I can blow up with firecrackers.  But a Bible?  Yeah, I know, Jesus' words are in blood red.  I get that.  And, yes, having the cross-referenced passage column down the middle is a nice flair (thank you, Scofield).   And, I'm aware that the nice onion-skin paper the pages are printed on gives that cool "crinkle" noise when you turn the page which, by design, will now require me to follow along with the sermon lest someone notice my new fancy Bible isn't making that tell-tale sound when everyone else's is.  But, c'mon, I'm 7 years old.  Oh...and my stocking included a yellow highlighter in case I found any interesting passages that I may want to revisit.

It was that year I realized, for good, that Santa was a devout Christian who lived in my house and slept with my Mom.  Yes, that year I put the final nail in Santa's coffin. 

Have A Jewish Christmas!

  Often times, when I am presented with a vexing problem, a moral conundrum, or a difficult choice, I ask myself a simple question.

What would Larry do?

Here's my deal: Mom - non-practicing Jew. Dad - Catholic. Me - agnostic/borderline atheist (Beth has the same deal, only reversed: Mom - non-practicing Christian. Dad - non-practicing Jew). This up until two years ago was not a problem. Indeed, I took a very Larry-ish approach to the Holiday Question. Celebrate both! And by celebrate, I don't mean sitting in a church or temple listening to some old guy in robes yammering on in Latin or Hebrew. I mean celebrate - like going to the Christmas parties, putting up a tree, playing Dreidle For Shots, gorging myself on Chocolate Gelt, getting presents on the 25th AND a bonus Eight Crazy Nights of Comin' Up On Loot! That, my friends, is the true perk of being a half-breed mongrel. Lots of fun to be had at year's end. It's a good deal. Prettaaay, prettaaaay, prettaaaaaay good!

Yet these days, I find myself wondering about Lucas, and how we're going to explain Christmas to him. When he asks what Christmas means and why we celebrate it and what Hannukah means and why we celebrate that too...sticky stuff, folks. I spent a good deal of my childhood in the Midwest, and lemme tellya - ain't a whole lotta the Chosen in Oklahoma, Illinois, and Nebraska. I had to field a lot of questions about why I didn't go to church and didn't believe in Jesus and was I nervous about spending eternity in the fires of Hell and so forth.

Here's how I see it. Christmas these days means different things to different people. Yes, it's a Christian holiday, but I don't think it's much of a stretch to say that many people who celebrate Christmas don't consider themselves Christians (or aren't considered "Christians" by other "Christians"). To me, the holiday season is about a lot of things - family, fellowship, peace on earth, even tipping the cap to my dad's heritage. I'm of a mind to let the kid make up his own mind about faith and God and religion - in a way, I feel very fortunate that I have roots in two very deep cultures, and it's pretty cool that we get to partake in the traditions of both. I'm sure that Lucas will feel the same way.

Well, I have a few years to think about the Christmas Talk With Lucas. Luckily, there are plenty of educational films out there to help me with this.

Intelligent Voters Design A New School Board

In 2004, the school board in tiny Dover, Pennsylvania passed a mandate requiring all high schools in the district to teach intelligent design along with evolution, effectively thumbing its nose at the separation of church and state. Intelligent design teaches us that when things on this crazy little planet of ours are too complex to understand, an intelligent agent must have had a hand in it.

In other words, God.

On Tuesday, voters in Dover had their say on the matter. They ousted all eight (of the nine) school council members running for reelection and replaced them with members opposed to teaching intelligent design in the classroom.

What are your thoughts on the matter? Should intelligent design be taught in public schools? Or, if one wants to expose his child to education with a religious subtext, should he have to send his child to a private school?