Tag: boys

Oh, to be a kid again

On By VievesVineIn Commentary, Everyday LifeLeave a comment

Kids strive for independence. If you ask me, that philosophy is turned around and upside down.

Think about it.

A baby cries, and every adult within hearing range rushes to the crib or bassinet or wherever the infant’s parking spot happens to be at that moment.

“What’s the matter, sweet baby?”

“Ahhh, what is it, little one?”

“Do you need your diaper changed?”

“Are you hungry?”

It doesn’t take long. Babies figure out they have everyone at their beck and call. Once they do, they “work the system”—their wishes become the adults’ commands.

Oh, to be a kid again.

Children have personal full-time chefs. Not only do those chefs cook every meal, but they hand-deliver it to the table.

Oftentimes, the child doesn’t even have to pick up a fork. The chef will do that for him, wipe excess food away from the little one’s face, and clean up the kitchen afterward.

That same chef doubles as a chauffeur, which comes in handy when said child wants to veer from the routine and visit Chick-fil-A, Dairy Queen, or a pizza spot.  

Momma (or Poppa) chauffeur drives them everywhere—school, swim practice, football games, the movies, church youth group, the pool, birthday parties, the grandparents’ house, and more.

Momma and Poppa cover the gas and the car insurance. And Grandma’s house takes “beck and call” to a whole new level.

Oh, to be a kid again.

Adults run to wipe their noses at the hint of a sneeze. Children are held and cuddled and rocked at the whisper of a fever.

In truth, children are held and cuddled and rocked just because they are, well, children.

Adults buy all their clothes and wash them when required. Children don’t stress over what to wear; their adults choose their outfits for them.

Oh, to be a kid again.

Children get the coolest, fun-themed birthday parties thanks to the adults who plan and pay for the entire shebang.

Shebang. I have never, as in ever, typed that word, yet there it is—twice. I could have said “affair,” but shebang is much more fun.

But I digress….

Kids get imaginary friends, and everyone goes along with the idea. Well, not everyone.

When he was a toddler, my brother Gerald played with Davison Robbins day in and day out. We, his older siblings, came home from school each day and said, “Hey, what did you and Davison Robbins do today?” and “Did you and Davisson Robbins have fun today?”  

Our mother told us to stop “encouraging” the situation. We weren’t. Scout’s honor. We were jealous; we wanted a good pretend friend like Davison Robbins.

Kids have shoes that light up and can wear dress-up clothes and crowns anytime they desire. Their adults read to them, hear their prayers, and tuck them in.

Little ones have everyone coming and going at the snap of a finger when they make their first tactical error around two years of age.

That’s when the “do it myself” compulsion sneaks in and takes over. As soon as toddlers grasp the art of vocabulary, they repeat, “I can do it. I can do it” and “I want to do it myself. I want to do it myself.”

Big, as in HUGE, mistake.

Oh, for a good long while, the adults stand firm and insist on doing and helping and coddling. Eventually, though, the child wears them down. Eventually, the adult in charge sits back and says, “Ok. Sure. You do it.”

It starts with small tasks like putting on socks and shoes. Zipping. Buttoning.

Next thing you know, they’re wiping their own noses, driving their brothers and sisters to school, getting jobs, and buying their clothes. Next thing you know, the child who had the world at her feet is an adult.

Oh, to be a kid again.

Mrs. Murphy

On By VievesVineIn Commentary, Everyday Life, Friends & Family, Places1 Comment

Some people come into our lives and stay for a while. Others dance and flicker among us for a brief moment, like a candle’s flame.

How long people have known us has little to do with the impression they leave on us. Sometimes, we don’t realize the extent of that imprint until much later.

That’s how it is for me with Mrs. Murphy.

Every now and then, Mrs. Murphy rises from my heart and into my consciousness. I can’t say what triggers the appearance of those memories, but I welcome them all the same.

She was the Music Director at the First Baptist Church of my childhood in southern West Virginia. I picture her tall with a solid frame, but then I was small and skinny.

Her close-cropped dark hair held a bit of wave or curl. Maybe a perm? She wore black framed eyeglasses with upswept corners (in cat-eye fashion)—or so, I thought.

Mrs. Murphy’s responsibilities included directing all choirs, Cherub, Youth, and Adult.

“Responsibilities.” I wrote that word with hesitancy. Mrs. Murphy exhibited so much joy in what she did that it never occurred to me it was part of a job.

She even made certain the kids’ choirs had holiday parties, Halloween, Easter, and Christmas.

When my friends and I were promoted to Youth Choir, we walked to the church every Wednesday after school for practice in the big sanctuary with an inclined floor.

Mrs. Murphy got a workout at those practices. She spent the first 15 minutes running up and down the middle aisle in her chunky heels, trying to get the boys to stop rolling under the pews and take their places in the choir loft.

“Now, boys, come out from under there,” she said with firm gentleness.

Then, she clapped her hands to coax a little stronger, “Come along, now, boys. It’s time to get started.”

My brother Donald, two years my junior, was born with a baritone, man-sized voice. He took his place in front of the church with the Cherub Choir, in his white robe and ginormous red bow, and belted “Jesus Loves Me” like a miniature Johnny Cash with a little added thunder. The rest of the cherubs were reduced to a tweet here and a tweet there.

I was a cherub alumnus by then. Donald’s “Jesus Loves Me” roar sent our brother John and me into titters, followed by giggles until we tumbled from the pew and tried to smother our howls into the deep red carpet. We hiccupped rising chortles, but that didn’t keep tears from laughing all the way down our cheeks.

Mrs. Murphy remained unfazed.

On Sunday mornings when the little ones took front and center, her hands and arms sang with the notes as she led her Cherub charges. The louder Donald’s voice, the bigger her smile.

When thoughts of Mrs. Murphy came to me last week, it occurred to me that I knew very little about this woman I admired. We lost touch after I moved away in 6th grade.

I emailed my very first best friend, Stilts, whose parents called her Nancy, but I never would.

“…I’ve been thinking about Mrs. Murphy, our choir director. I loved her! Do you know what happened to her? I can’t recall her first name. Ugh.”

Stilts wrote back, “…Her name was Florence Murphy and her husband, Eugene…they were the most fabulous couple at church and as neighbors.”

Lucky Stilts, to have had Mrs. Murphy for a neighbor.

I don’t know if Mrs. Murphy enjoyed gardening, if she had a dog, or liked to cook. I don’t know if she had children or how many. I don’t recall the color of her eyes.

I do know she brought music to the hearts of many. And she loved children.

Maybe, for me, that was enough.

Standing up

On By VievesVineIn Commentary5 Comments

The issues of freedom of speech and protecting women’s sports have put the national spotlight on WV, Harrison County in particular. It’s impossible to explore one without alluding to the other.

Judge Thomas Bedell recently issued a preliminary injunction against the Harrison County Board of Education, “preventing it and its schools from punishing athletes for future free speech.”

I’ll fill you in.

Five middle school girls’ track athletes protested against competing with a biological male in the shotput event. The protest went viral after former University of Kentucky swimmer Riley Gaines praised their courage. Individuals and groups who support the “Save Women’s Sports” (SWS) campaign also lauded the athletes.

Parents filed a lawsuit to protect free speech after their daughters’ coach enforced an “unwritten” rule: athletes who intentionally “scratch” an event would not be allowed to compete in that event at the next meet.

The words “unwritten rule” triggered the problem. In what professional arena is a rule not documented—on paper—a serious rule, a rule not to be broken? Most believe an unwritten rule bends easily—imposed in some cases, but not others.

Another key issue revolves around the true definition of “scratch” in track and field. The NCAA written rule is consistent with what I’ve witnessed in past middle and high school track competitions:

“A Scratch, for any reason, is a voluntary abandonment of an event by the participant prior to the staging of the event. … the staging of the event is the point in time where participants are escorted to, or allowed to be at, the site of the event.”

Therefore, the five athletes did not scratch. They did not elect to take themselves out of the shotput competition “prior to the event.”

They were present. Their names were called. They entered the circle—shotput in hand—and silently walked away without attempting a throw.

The girls did not scratch. They exercised their constitutional right to free speech by protesting an issue that affects them and the futures of female athletes near and far.

Based on the clarification of “scratch,” there was no basis for employing a disciplinary rule, much less an undocumented regulation. The word “unwritten” negates any avenues for justification of the “rule.”

On the other hand, if one reviews the current Presidential administration’s proposed changes to Title IX, the young women’s brave protest is justified.

Edits to the 1972 law to protect equal opportunities for women in sports include replacing the word “sex” with “gender identity.” If that happens, the new Title IX would be based on how a person identifies rather than his biological truth at birth.

This problem does not exist for biological women who wish to identify as men. They do not attempt to enter the male sports arena because they know they cannot physically compete with men. Thus, the reason why males who wish to identify as women must draw the line at competing in women’s sports.

Biological women fought for years for the passage and implementation of Title IX. With one flourish of a pen, a preposterous new definition of women will effectively erase the intent of that law.

As Judge Bedell stated, the case at hand is about freedom of speech. If the court’s decision does not support our valuable constitutional right to be heard, there is reason for serious concern.

As for the issue of protecting women’s sports, the courts have not been kind, e.g., the Fourth Circuit Court of Appeals (VA) blocking WV’s “Save Women’s Sports Act.”

A double standard exists in this climate that claims to champion women. If courts continue to turn their backs on reality, on saving women’s sports, freedom of speech becomes even more essential.

It is up to all biologically female athletes to be as courageous as five middle schoolers and stand up for truth by standing down.

Boys and girls

On By VievesVineIn Commentary1 Comment

A few weeks ago, I sat cozy and warm in the driver’s seat and watched my husband Gary secure our Christmas tree to the roof in pouring rain.

I said to myself, “Self, be ye thankful for this man.”

Maybe some women don’t mind stretching over a car roof while the rain pelts down. I am not one of them.

Oh, I could do it if I had to, but Gary is around, he knows the job is all his, and he never—as in ever—complains.

In the same way, I’m the one who cleans our house and takes care of the laundry. My husband is capable of and has performed both chores, but that area is usually my territory.

I’m not ashamed to say these things, nor am I demeaning my female sisterhood. I believe women are as intelligent as men. Among a host of professions, more than a few women are excellent doctors, attorneys, and business executives

Note: I said, “as intelligent as,” not “more intelligent than.” There is a difference.

It’s a “Men Are from Mars, Women Are from Venus” kind of thing. The best-selling book by John Gray focuses on the differences between men and women and how it is important that each respect the other.

It was published in 1992, but those differences have not changed—not one bit. Still, mainstream media and various groups would like for us to think otherwise. They wish to alter the various, inherent traits that distinguish males and females.

True, a time existed when women were passed over in favor of men at school and in the workplace. The rewards from the battle to give women equality in those areas have been well worth the fight.

But now the push has taken a step in the wrong direction. The media and political factions appear determined to unman our men.

A great many television shows, movies, and commercials depict intelligent savvy women dominating dimwitted men. If we believe what we see, the percentage of intelligent savvy women far surpasses that of bright brainy men.

The number of action films featuring women heroines who are physically far superior to men is laughable. Evidence exists that women possibly fought as gladiators. However, the accounts show they did not participate on the same brutal level as men. Women fighters were novelty acts.

Intellectually, neither sex rises above the other. But men are physically stronger than women.

The latter fact explains the problem with trans women competing against biological women. Despite being a trans woman, Olympic gold medalist Bruce—now Caitlyn—Jenner strongly opposes biological boys and men taking part in women’s sports.

Jenner knows drugs cannot eliminate testosterone to the degree that would keep trans women from having a huge physical advantage. Interestingly, no debate exists the other way around. Trans men don’t even try to compete against biological men.

Hmmm…

But I digress.

Mainstream media portrays men’s physical strength as a detriment and paints them as emotionally and intellectually incompetent. More and more, people are accepting this charade as fact. It’s chipping away at the confidence of our boys and eroding mutual respect between the sexes.

God gave males and females different gifts that go hand-in-hand to keep life in balance. One quick example in many: without a man, a woman cannot conceive.

Gary appreciates the way I plan and organize family and friend events. He is happy for me to do the shopping for his clothes and shoes. He knows I like to drive and doesn’t mind relaxing at shotgun.

I am thankful that my husband cuts the grass, climbs up on the roof for maintenance checks, and wields a leaf blower like he’s fighting enemies in a warzone.

And I have to admit, he’s handy to have around to tackle stubborn jar lids.

A friend of mine put it best: “Empowering women should not come at the expense of men.”

Men and women are different and equally valuable.