growing up


This is part of a series. To read the first post, which discusses the origins, click here.


Air Canada sponsored a holiday flash mob this week. It was a way to get travelers into the holiday spirit and, I am not embarrassed to admit, it made me cry a little. Flash mobs are emblems of sincere joy and unabashed enthusiasm; they stand in stark juxtaposition to the cynicism, aloofness, and indifference which pervades our media and pop cultural influences these days. Members of flash mobs say, If you’re happy and you’re not too cool to show it, clap your hands. And it warms my heart.

There is certainly a place for cynicism. Astronaut David T. Wolf once said that “idealism is what precedes experience, cynicism is what follows.” And I suppose that the world needs realists. How else can we act with intention if we do not fully understand the needs of an imperfect world? But, while years ago cynicism was closer to a sense of caution and realism, today cynicism is a philosophy and almost a sport.

I watched A Charlie Brown Christmas with my two-year-old the other night. He loved the music and Snoopy, and I loved the message. I don’t think I’d paid attention to it much in the past, but Charlie Brown’s earnestness in directing a serious Christmas pageant, picking an authentic Christmas tree, and considering the meaning of the holiday season, is so rare. Earnestness is thought of as a silly character trait in a world of Wikileaks, cable news, and non-stop advertising. An earnest person seems naive, or just unable to play it cool.

It’s hard to wear an ironic t-shirt if you’re earnest.

Judith Acosta wrote a really articulate article this week called Narcissism: The New Normal? in which she links the decision of the psychiatric diagnostic standards manual (the DSM-V) to remove the narcissistic personality disorder from its roster to the pervasive narcissism we experience on a daily basis in the form of public cell phone conversations, meals interrupted by Blackberries, and Twitter being Twitter.

Acosta argues that “a trend of unrestrained entitlement and narcissism…has undermined not only our expectations (of each other, of government, of business, of life itself) but the natural order of family structure.” Her larger point involves the repercussions this cultural shift has on children and parenting, but I also think that the contrast between how we relate to one another today versus, say, fifty years ago, is shocking: When the focus of energy was on other people’s needs before our own–in the form of, say, prescribed manners and civics classes–people tended to behave more sincerely and less cynically. Think of Leave it to Beaver. We would call that show cheesy now. And yet people were entertained by it because it struck a chord close to what they knew and valued: Straightforwardness, sincerity, earnestness.

Believe me, I know the ’50s wasn’t all poodle skirts and milkshakes. But it was a time where people were often forced to consider other people’s needs before their own: TVs couldn’t record shows, so everyone had to agree or compromise on what to watch, most families had one car so schedules had to be coordinated, and people talked to each other far more than we do today. There were fewer distractions and diversions, so people talked.

On Conan O’Brien’s last night hosting The Tonight Show, he implored his audience in the following way:

“All I ask of you, especially young people…is one thing. Please don’t be cynical. I hate cynicism — it’s my least favorite quality and it doesn’t lead anywhere. Nobody in life gets exactly what they thought they were going to get. But if you work really hard and you’re kind, amazing things will happen. I’m telling you, amazing things will happen.” 

As much as I never thought I would take parenting philosophies from a man who wears a pompadour, Conan articulated something that is important to our core happiness. And, above all else, we want our children to be happy; and it is hard to be happy when you are unhappy all the time. I mean, that kind of goes without saying, but that is was cynicism is. It is an attitude of “scornful or jaded negativity, especially a general distrust of the integrity or professed motives of others”(thefreedictionary.com).

Distrust the media. Fine. Scorn the laws you don’t agree with. Okay. But don’t distrust the kindness of a stranger helping you with bags at the airport. Don’t scorn the Christmas gift that isn’t exactly what you wanted. To be happy is to be kind in your actions and your thoughts. Usually one is harder than the other. But sincerity is to try–and to not be too cool to try.


When I was in high school, my best friend and I sneaked out of her house at night and walked around the golf course, looking at the stars (we were bad-ass like that). We were deep into Seal at the time and we sang the lyrics to “Crazy” at the top of our lungs as we waded through the damp, tall summer grass: In a world full of people, only some want to fly, isn’t that crazy? In a sky full of people only some want to fly, isn’t that crazy? Crazy…


Seal really knows how to drive home a point.

As we sang the words, my friend and I had a teenage epiphany–it is crazy, we thought, that we can all fly but don’t. We should get our pilot licenses this summer.  And fly to Hollywood. And see if The Peach Pit really exists.

Though our goals were a little ambitious, the nugget of truth, encased in solid ’90s pop lyrics, is an important idea that I still think about: There are plans we make when we are young with every possibility in front of us, but then we start making other plans along the way and all of the sudden flying seems dangerous,  The Peach Pit seems silly, and Hollywood seems cliche. We become more risk averse and more cynical.

For my 29th birthday I asked my husband for a flying lesson. Thirty was looming before me and we were talking about having a baby in the near future, and I thought, It’s now or never.

And then Chicago’s fall was too blustery to go up in the plane. And then it was winter storm season. And then I got pregnant.

So I guess it’s never. On the flying thing anyway. I knew the moment I saw the positive pregnancy test that my days of risk-taking-that-could-end-in-physical-harm days were over. I had a clear responsibility to my child that, first and foremost, involved being alive.

www.agdesktop.com

(I’ll admit that I entertained the idea again recently. But, being heavily influenced by fictional characters, I put my wings away forever when I saw Lost‘s John Locke had put his father and himself in a wheelchair on his first solo flight. I mean, John Locke is man of faith, so if he couldn’t make it past lift-off, my chances seemed slim).

However, there is a difference between physical challenges and mental challenges. I can’t say I’ve dabbled much in the former–a belly button ring at age eighteen…pregnancy…one time in NYC I moved an air conditioner across town by myself–but I’ve never been the marathon-running, mountain-climbing, master-cleanse-drinking kinda gal. I dislike feeling chilly, let alone physical pain.

But mental challenges I can do. Auditioning as an actor in New York City was as cruel and unusual as it gets in that department. Or, day after day, week after week,  standing in front of 34 eighteen-year-olds who’d rather be anywhere but my class, trying to connect Beowolf to their difficult, stressful urban lives. (I get sweaty just thinking about some of my first classes in the large urban school system where I taught).

Besides, physical challenges are so 2004, when Gwyneth was still macrobiotic and people still cared if David Blaine survived in his stupid Plexiglass box above the River Thames. If it weren’t for my husband’s obsession with reading the Patagonia Catalog like it were a lost book from the Bible, I would toss it into the recycling bin faster than I do my mutual fund’s annual report (am I seriously supposed to read that? it’s a phone book).

Physical risks out, mental risks in.

So I am starting a To Do list. The goals are mine, for myself or my family. It would be way too easy at this point in my life, with a lot of big details settled, to forget to set any new goals unless I write them down, get them out there, and think about them every now and then. Just like everything else, it’s a work in progress.

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