Sunday, November 9, 2014

This I Believe


 I don’t exactly remember whether I read it somewhere for a graduate course or heard it on NPR (really, isn’t it the same thing?), but many years ago, I learned that personality is cemented between the ages of 18 and 24.  That doesn’t mean that people don’t have personalities before then – of course they do – it just means that during these years, your personality fully develops.  This is the reason students go away to college and appear to come back as completely different people. In some ways, they are.  I know that many of my ideals and life choices weren’t initiated until I went to college in Maine, ones that I still embody more than 20 years later…
            Because of this 18-24 rule, there are certain things I firmly believe people should not do until they are 24 years old.
1.   Don’t get married. I’m not saying not to date, not to have serious relationships, or not to fall in love.  I’m not even saying not to get engaged. Just don’t get married.  While your personality is forming, you don’t want to make decisions based on the person you were.  If it was meant to be, wait a few years.  Yes, you could get a divorce if you find out that s/he wasn’t the one for you, but divorces are messy and who wants to be 26 and divorced?
2.     Don’t have a baby.  This is self-explanatory.  Children are lifelong commitments.  At 18, 19, even at 23,  you haven’t figured out who you are, let alone how you want to raise another human being.  Figure out that first and then you can multiply like the Duggars.

3.      Don’t get a tattoo.  Students will often protest about this one the loudest.  Tattoos, like babies, are forever.  What you are passionate about at 18, when your personality is just forming, will more likely than not, not be what you are passionate about at 28, let alone 58.  Tattoo removal is expensive, painful, and oh yeah, it doesn’t really work. 
            I know that there are students out there that will argue with me about how mature they are, about how they had to grow up early, and therefore this 18-24 rule doesn’t apply to them.  I disagree. I started babysitting at 9, was responsible for fulltime childcare of my brother at 11, had to work and buy my own clothes at 14, was kicked out of the house at 16… believe me, I get it.  I still adamantly argue the 18-24 rule.  Having a rough life doesn’t make your brain develop any faster, folks.
             I understand the need to want to grow up, but here’s a gentle reminder:  enjoy your teens and your 20s.  You will have many more grown up years than you will years when you are young.  Don’t make decisions when your personality is still forming that you cannot fix with an apology.  Right now, focus on deciding exactly who you want to be.  Right now, enjoy the process of becoming you.  

Saturday, November 8, 2014

Voice


As much as I enjoy being a parent, there is a special bond between the children in my life I am not directly responsible for.  For me, it is my godchildren, Max (now 12) and Laurel (now 10).    Max was always a cuddly child, even when my own daughter entered her teen years and didn’t want to hug mommy anymore.  Laurel and Max were still up for sitting in my lap and reading when my daughter was tuning me out in favor of her iPod.  Max, Laurel, and I would make up stories and songs.  Some famous ones were “The Bee Farmer” about fairies who milked bees instead of cows and the blueberry song.


               
 Blueberries, blueberries
 Eat a bunch of blueberries.
 If you eat some blueberries,
Your poo will then turn blue!

All this was met by eye rolls by my daughter.  “Really, Mom?  Really?” was all I got from her.

Since the kids live in Maine and I live in New York, I don’t get to see them more than two or three times a year.  They are always so much bigger, cuter, funnier. 
But one summer, when Max was nearly 9 and Laurel was almost 7, I noticed a change in Max.  

Suddenly, he was less cuddly, less interested in, well, me.  I think I even caught an eye roll or two.  I miss him.



I stayed with them during my MFA residencies in Maine, and so I would get to see them in teh mornings.  One morning, as I was leaving the house, Laurel threw herself into my arms. She gave me a fierce hug and whispered in my ear, “I’m the only one who still likes it when you sing.”


It wasn’t much, but for now, I’ll take it.