Lies we tell our children

It was June of 1983, and my first time to go to summer camp. Sure, it was 4H camp for redneck kids like me, but still, it was exciting. I remember being scared that I wouldn't like my cabinmates (though two of them were known to me), and wondering if I would have to shower in front of everyone. And I had heard there would be a dance. Would a girl want to dance with me? Would I actually be able to kiss a girl? Very stressful issues for an 10 year old boy.

The first two days of camp was wonderful, far greater than I could ever have imagined. Everyone thought I was funny. I was tall & strong enough that I was able to be really good at most of the games we played. I was able to regale kids at the pool with stories of how I was taught to swim by a real frogman from the Apollo missions.

I had grown up around guns and was a fairly good shot. I had always enjoyed hunting with shotguns, and had learned how to fire pistols on a makeshift range at home. But I had never used a bow & arrow for some reason, and I thought this would be a good skill to add to my resume if I were really going to become a Green Beret (my chosen vocation after watching the eponymous John Wayne film). So I signed up for archery.

I was walking to the archery range on the morning of the 3rd day. Probably around 10 AM. I walked through the large bonfire area, passing a small row of parking spaces, when I saw a familiar truck. My mom and her friend Ann stepped out of it and walked toward me, and I remember being so happy to see my mom. I couldn't wait to tell her how much fun I was having, and that she was right, I had no need to be worried......

I saw the tears in her eyes as she walked toward me, and she held her arms out. I immediately asked, "Daddy?" She shook her head, and said, chokingly, "It's Jenny".

My youngest sister Jenny was 7 years old. She and Lisa, the middle sister at 8, had been walking back from a neighbor's house to our grandmother's house in rural Kentucky. After crossing the main road, Jenny decided to dive back across to get the mail for our grandmother. She darted out in front of a van traveling the speed limit, and was struck.

I would later learn of how my father had held her broken body in his arms as my mother drove our truck toward the hospital, meeting the ambulance on the way. What do you do with those clothes? What can you do with the blood in the truck? How do you wash away those memories?

But that morning, I only knew that my youngest sister was gone.

I was asked if I wanted to come back home with my mom and Ann. I told them I wanted to stay at camp until the funeral. I don't know why I chose to do this. Mom and Ann said they would come get me for the funeral, but to call if I wanted to come back sooner.

They left in the truck and drove up to the admin building. I stood there between the archery range and the camp. I wandered toward the range momentarily, then turned and headed back toward the cabin.

My parents didn't go to church, but I went for Sunday School sometimes and Vacation Bible School every summer. I loved the Christmas Pageant we would put on every Christmas at that church (I remember one year my father played Santa Claus, which I loved him so much for). I had a casual relationship with God, and his son Jesus. And even though I remember somehow inserting the lyric "They drink Coors and he drinks Stroh's" into "Jesus Loves Me" along with my redneck friends, I knew that this was not an unforgivable sin, and that they would listen to my prayers in my time of great need. For after all, love and hope is what they promised us in bible school.

So I prayed. I cried openly as I walked toward my cabin and bargained with everything I had and would ever hope to obtain. I knew that there was something I could promise to God to bring my sister back. But I couldn't figure out what it was. I knelt at my little bunk bed, then crawled into it, and pleaded with someone, anyone, ANYTHING to bring my sister back.

The counselor came in and held me for a little bit as I cried. Soon my bunkmates came in and saw me. The counselor took them outside for a few minute, then they all came back in to grab their stuff for swim time. Their eyes darted toward me, afraid to make eye contact with me. I can't blame them. Later that afternoon, I asked the counselor to call someone to take me home to my family.

I prayed a few more times that week before the services. At the funeral, I remember walking up to her casket and seeing her lying there, pigtails and all, soft stuffed animal limp in her arms. I silently begged God once more for my sister to come back to me and wrestle me, to make my grandmother cry with frustration with her silly antics, to just open her eyes and smile at me once again. Then I turned away.

As a parent, I tell my children about the Tooth Fairy. My wife makes the most amazing Easter baskets for them (and for me as well). Santa Claus is coming in less than a week. We tell these stories to our children in the full knowledge that one day they will question us. But I have no problem telling them these stories. Why?

Because to a child, there is nothing so wonderful as magic. And what is love, if not magic? Nothing we as humans have ever created can do so much. Nothing can be turned to more evil purposes, or can cause so much joy in a person's life. This is our way of showing the many facets of love, and the pervasiveness of it in their lives.

But though I can equate Santa, Peter Cottontail, and the Tooth Fairy with our love for our children, I cannot bring myself to say that of God, Jesus, or any other deity. They are not love to me, and have not been for many years.

My children are learning of death. First our dog Ruf was put down after his ailments became too much. Then my maternal grandmother passed away this fall. My son speaks of missing Ruf. My daughter is frightened of dying, and of not seeing us ever again. I am so conflicted in how I speak to them about death. Do I tell them it is final? Do I give them false hope that I don't believe in myself? How do I look in my young daughter's eyes, see the fear there, and not give her some hope?

I cannot deny her. My love for her is too great to not ease her fears.

So I tell her a lie. I tell her that she will see Nonie, and her beloved Ruby, and all of us in heaven. But I tell her that these things are for Mommy and Daddy to worry about, not a sweet little angel like her. I tell her that she needs to just love life and friends and everyone she can here on earth. And I hope that it will be many many years before she has to try to make a bargain with all the love in her heart.

This post was inspired by a fantastic opinion piece by Ricky Gervais that can be found here. In it, he details why he's an atheist.

Saudi Arabia, Part Two - Saudi Harder

Yes, sports fans, it's been a bit longer than I had hoped between updates on this trip. Why? Well, this has been the most challenging program I've worked in a very long time, if not ever. But enough about that, let's chat about some more stuff I found interesting.

- The cars and driving in Saudi Arabia are like nothing else I have ever experienced. I've driven a McLaren-Mercedes SLR, but never have I seen one in public until last night. I've also seen Planes, Trains, and Automobiles, but I've never seen their burned out wreck of a car in real life until today. And my god, the driving! Absolutely the worst I have ever seen in my life. Put any 7 year old with a week of Forza experience and a bad case of ADHD behind the wheel of a car in Jeddah, and he'll blend in just fine. Driver here are aggressive, has zero lane discipline, and absolutely zero respect for driving laws. I actually saw an emergency vehicle with its lights on driving by me in the far left lane GET PASSED by a freaking Camry on the LEFT SHOULDER. I have a feeling that the work of art shown above (located on the Corniche road near my hotel) was inspired by a nightmare the artist had after driving for one week in Jeddah.

- I have been struck by the way everyone in Middle Eastern culture really seems to have a strong sense of family, and respect for other families. On the Saudi Air flight, I couldn't tell who the (hyperactive spoiled) toddler belonged to, as everyone in the entire back section seemed to take a role in helping to talk to/discipline the child. And at our events, parents thought nothing of leaving their 3 or 4 year olds behind with our staff (who they had only met moments ago) while they drove. The staff played with the children lovingly as if they were their own. Yet, why does NO ONE seem to own a child seat, much less use them? I came inches from t-boning a car in a roundabout yesterday that had 2 children jumping up and down in the back seat while a third stood in her mommy's lap in the front seat, hands on the dashboard and howling like a wolf. I couldn't imagine doing this with my own children.

- The Saudi economy is kind of interesting. First, many things are (seemingly) quite inexpensive. I ordered room service tonight and paid only $7 US for a plate of spaghetti bolognese. Hell, that's almost as cheap as Fazoli's (and a lot better). Plus, there seems to be a massive aversion to coins. I have been here a week and have only received 1 coin as change. In fact, one of my purchases rang up to $25.90 cents, and the cashier just gave me a pack of gum in lieu of the coin. Part of this has to do with the fact that there is no sales tax at all (or any other tax in the KSA), and also because items tend to be priced in whole amounts ($8 for a 1 liter bottle of water, $3 for a little chocolate bar). It certainly speeds up transaction time, and is something we could learn from.

- I paid US $5 to fill a 12 gallon tank with gas. 'Nuff said.

- Religion really does pervade every aspect of life here, but not in an annoying way. When the call comes, everything shuts down. But once it is over, life resumes as normal. Though I am someone who has no religious affiliation of any sort (nor any desire to form one), I've nothing but great respect for a people who find that their entire life can be framed by their religion. There is a tremendous amount of bad press that the Muslim people must put up with, and it is a shame. There are bad people all around the world, regardless of their religion. But 99.9% of the people on this earth just want to be happy, find love, and enjoy a few laughs. We far too often forget this and instead withdraw in fear of the unknown or misunderstood. Thankfully, the people I have met have not withdrawn, and have instead greeted me with a smile and as much English as they can muster.

That's it for tonight. I'll try to update once more before I leave. And as much as I have enjoyed myself here, I am certainly ready to get back home.

Saudi Arabia, Part One - What I've Learned In 36 Hours

Yep, it's been a while. I'm sure we'll backtrack to what's gone on since the last (real) post at some point, but not tonight.

I was fortunate enough to travel to Bahrain in early November for business for about a week. 2 months later to the day, I traveled to Saudi Arabia for the same purpose.

When asked what Bahrain was like, I often said "It's like Las Vegas lite." I mean, you could drink, there were prostitutes, there were lots of flashy cars, and everything looked pretty at night, but kinda dusty and dirty in the daytime.

Saudi Arabia is definitely different. First, it's pretty difficult to get in. You need a sponsor in the country to "sponsor" your visa application. Once that's handled, you're off. So let's go a few items I found noteworthy since leaving Dubai for the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia:

- The plane I was on was a Boeing 777. Great plane, but MASSIVE overkill for this short 1,000 mile flight. And it was probably only 20% full. Turns out they have 23 (!) of them. Thoughts on this another time.

- Around 25 minutes before landing in Jeddah, several gentlemen who were making the Umrah (pilgrimage to Mecca OUTSIDE of Hajj) began chanting fairly loudly. It was a 15 second long chant, and they repeated it until the plane landed. It wasn't bothersome (indeed, it was somewhat lulling), but I'm curious as to what it was, and if it was something they just DID, or if it was part of the Umrah (perhaps they needed to say it as they arrive in Jeddah).

- By the time I landed, went through customs, and retrieved my rental car, it was nearly midnight. I finally wound my way to the Corniche (beachside road, pictured above) around 12:15, and was AMAZED at the traffic. It was after midnight and the beach/road was PACKED. Not with just young people, but with families, children, etc. This was Thursday night/Friday morning, and Friday is a holiday. Most amazing? Everyone was having fun sans alcohol, as (you probably know) alcohol is strictly forbidden in Saudi Arabia.

- In Bahrain, I rarely heard the Adhan (Muslim call to prayer), except one memorable time in the mall there. Everyone seemed to ignore it. Here........no ignoring it. People stop what they are doing (not immediately, but they finish it up if it's finishable) and go to pray. Yesterday, while trying to buy a Saudi SIM card that would work in my iPhone (no luck), the 6:30 (ish, it's not always the same time) Adhan happened. ALL of the shops in the little mall we were in turned off the lights, the keepers either left the door open (in a restaurant, for instance, so patrons could finish) or locked it up (if they had shooed everyone one). It's pretty amazing that everything just stops. Yes, cars still drive along, it isn't like in Truman Show, but it's a definite pause in life to pray. Interesting to watch

That's enough for now, today was a super long day, and I'm beat. But I will close with this: everyone has been super nice. My spidey sense has not gone off since arriving, and I actually feel very much like an ugly American for not speaking a word of Arabic. Trying to learn some in the next day or two.

If you have a question, ask in the comments, I'll answer if I can.

Lee