Shenanigans

Rights (and Lefts) of Passage

Jeanna G3 Comments

When I was middle school age, my mom and I decided to pierce our own ears in the downstairs bathroom with sewing needles. This little anecdote was challenged at a party in my basement, so of course I had to prove I wasn’t lying, and I decided the best way to do so was to pierce a male classmate’s ear in the same way. That was crazy.

My daughter got a second hole in her ear pierced the other day and, based on my experiences, I think it’s kind of a big deal. (FYI It was done in a store without household tools.) Well, as my brain works, I started thinking about other ‘kind of big deals’ that she might, and maybe should, experience. Initially I thought of these experiences as rites of passage… until I looked up what those actually are. Getting your ear pierced is not a rite of passage in our culture, but it can be a right of passage. By that I mean, we experience a lot of things, and it’s those experiences that give us all the feels and the wherewithal to continue taking life as it comes. Some of them help us to reinvent ourselves and become more unique. Some of them humble us and help us to become more like everyone else, which then enables us to empathize and support the global community in a positive way. If there’s one thing I’ll remember from this past year, it’s that we’re all in this together. Some of these “rights of passage” feel good, and some are more like “lefts of passage” that we’d probably skip if given the choice. Some are things we choose to do, some happen by mistake. Some are gifts and some are losses delivered by other people. Some things happen because we just don’t know any better…yet. Some things just happen because life is good. And some things happen because life’s a bitch. But all of them really do help us to navigate this thing called life.

In middle school a classmate sitting behind me on the bleachers during an assembly snapped my bra. All his buddies snickered. All my girlfriends rolled their eyes. Initially I was like, “Dude. Not cool,” but I’ll be damned if I didn’t smile at him in the hallway later that day.

One summer we were vacationing in Clearwater, FL. My parents treated us with ice cream cones. As soon as I stepped off the boardwalk into the sand, a seagull flew right past my face and knocked my scoop off the cone and onto the beach. I stood there wondering why the ice cream didn’t come with a warning.

My high school sweetheart bought me a rose for our one-week anniversary. I saved it in a box for years.

In college I had to roll pennies in order to buy my next meal.

I learned to drive a manual transmission in the church parking lot when I was in middle school.

My friends and I scared the shit out of ourselves playing Bloody Mary and Light as a Feather, Stiff as a Board, and with a Ouija board at our sleepovers.

I shaved and frosted my own hair on a dare.

I tore up my legs learning to shave with those darn Bic razors.

I got thrown in the locker room showers in my full soccer uniform, cleats and all.

I could probably go on forever with all the crazy, random things that have happened in my life, but the point of each that I’d be trying to convey is that they happened, which means I happened. And I’m still happening. Rights or lefts, highs or lows, I’m grateful for all of them. They’ve made me a little more cynical, yet even more hopeful. I’m smarter and more empathetic. I’ve had enough experiences to know what I like and don’t like, and I can be pickier about what I want to do with one of my most valuable and fleeting gifts: time.

Oftentimes, when thinking about the angle of approach on my posts, I poll my friends and family about the topic at hand. I posed the question “What are some things, good or bad, that you think all children/people should experience, because ‘that’s life?’ I received more lefts than rights (although some are pretty similar), and I wonder why that is? Do we think more negative things need to happen in order for us to learn and become better people, people with stronger character? Or is it just that we will feel better if everyone else experiences some crappy luck? My dear friend pointed out that we can’t fully experience joy without pain, so maybe it’s okay if there’s more lefts than rights, because a few rights will still outweigh the lefts. Of course her response prompted me to immediately play Rob Base’s and D.J. E-Z Rock’s “Joy and Pain.” But I digress… So here are the messages I was sent back, and I hope you comment with your own:

The rights… 1) Winning 2) Receiving applause at the end of a performance 3) Love 4) Love at first sight 5) A first date 6) A first kiss 7) Romance 8) Someone writes you a song or poem 9) Someone buys you flowers 10) Setting a goal… and working towards achieving it 11) Being comforted 12) Being found 13) Cold pizza for breakfast 14) Being validated

The lefts… 1) Lack of provisions 2) Disappointment 3) Heartbreak 4) Loss of a love 5) Getting dumped 6) Criticism 7) Losing 8) Argument with a friend 9) Failure 10) Learning from mistakes 11) Stepping in dog shit and/or chewing gum 12) Falling on your face 13) Losing something irreplaceable, or having something stolen 14) Getting picked last 15) Getting lost 16) Having to make a choice between two things you really want 17) Something meaningful of yours gets broken 18) Being denied/being told no 19) Being scared 20) Being lonely 21) Rejection

Somewhere in between… 1) Peer pressure 2) Waiting tables 3) Slumber parties 4) Summer camp 5) DisneyWorld

So what do you think everyone needs to experience in their lives, and to what end?

Pranksters, Not Gangsters

Jeanna GLeave a comment

Part 1: When I was a kid, we pulled pranks. We smashed pumpkins, toilet papered yards, threw eggs and bologna, vandalized, burned things, set off stink bombs, switched the salt and sugar, and deflated tires. One time we took the tires completely off and left the car on cinder blocks. We told the freshmen we were dressing in 80s prom dresses for our next Psyche Party, and watched them enter in pink taffeta while we sat laughing in our jeans and t-shirts. I’m not proud of it, but I’m not exactly sorry either; most of them were meant to be playful, not malicious.

Part 2: I was watching the news the other day, and a near hopeless woman was speaking about how difficult it is to teach children when living in an active war zone. The children ask her, “What’s the point of learning if we could die today?” That knocked the wind out of me. The next day, I’m watching this girl, living in the same war zone and standing where her house is now a pile of rubble, crying and asking, “What am I supposed to do? I am only 10 years old.” This is actually happening 6,000 miles away from me, while I sit quietly at my table in my peaceful home, listening to my 9 year-old daughter play, in our safe neighborhood.

I grew up in what felt like a safe town. We didn’t worry about locking things up, or playing outside unsupervised. My bike was stolen from our shed, our house was burglarized in the middle of the day, and a friend of ours was kidnapped from his house. Those rocked me quite a bit, but I still felt safe.

I have an older brother who joined the Army. When he returned home in 1990, I felt extra safe knowing he was around and looking out for me. He was called to war in January 1991, so then he was looking out for all of us. I was in sixth grade when the Gulf War began. We held a sit-in in the middle school gym. This was our first real-time exposure to war, so our sit-in wasn’t very productive considering none of us really knew what was going on, so we didn’t know what to do or what to ask for. We just knew it didn’t feel right, and it certainly didn’t seem fair that our older siblings were going off to war in some country we’d never even heard of. But as that war was fought far, far away, we continued to go to school, play our sports, watch our TVs, and sleep in our comfy beds in our quiet little town.

After college I moved to Baltimore where I tried my best to teach the youngsters of the inner-city public schools. I came to realize that these children were growing up in a war zone of their own. Children can’t focus on learning if they don’t feel safe. Based on Maslow’s theory, children can’t focus on much of anything if this basic need isn’t met. After four overwhelming years, I just couldn’t handle the amount of fear and anxiety that enveloped those kids anymore, so I quit and moved. I needed to find solitude and live somewhere where I could find peace and still believe there was happiness. It took some time to decompress. I hardened over time, and needed to soften up again.

Part 3: I’m a Christian, but I will be the first to tell you that I have a tilted halo. A few of the major principles of Christianity are to 1) Love your neighbor as yourself (Golden Rule), 2) Forgive others who have wronged you, and 3) Love your enemies. But, no one ever said those were easy things to do. So what am I getting at? I can empathize with people who want revenge. I understand why schadenfreude is a thing. But I cannot find any sense in killing and destroying to get your way. The emotional fallout alone is too awful to fathom. So, if love and forgiveness aren’t in the cards, maybe we can consider being pranksters instead of gangsters? I imagine something out of a Roald Dahl novel. There’s a disagreement that cannot be talked out. Rock, Paper, Scissors won’t cut it. They turn to war. The planes fly over and drop… stink bombs. The tanks roll through shooting… paint balls. The infantry launch rotten eggs from sling shots. Grenades explode covering everything with slime. Some people are annoyed, some people are satisfied, but all people are alive. Some things need to be cleaned up, but nothing needs to be rebuilt. Wouldn’t this be revolutionary? No more assault rifles, no more missiles. If your ass is really that chapped, take it old school and burn a bag of shit on their front porch. Ruin their day, don’t ruin their lives. Just remember, someone loves them, and someone loves you, too.

The Fourth of Firsts – My First Bar

Jeanna GLeave a comment

I was 16. I had a real ID, it just wasn’t me. I have long, straight, dirty blonde hair and green eyes. Ms. Fowler from Michigan has shoulder-length, brown, curly hair and brown eyes. The ID was also expired, as indicated by the hole punch in the top corner. It’s amazing how easily I waltzed into that place back in 1995. I doubt it’s as easy these days. At least I hope it isn’t when my daughter turns 16!

Finn McCool’s, north of the city in Westchester County, was dark and cool. There was a basketball game like you’d find in an arcade. You shoot actual basketballs and they roll down the ramp back to you. I shot a few and then when one bounced off the rim and came back to bounce off my forehead, I decided it was best if I stuck to a barstool until my co-conspirators pulled me out the door. Better to be pulled out than tossed out! A night to remember!