Tuesday, January 3, 2017

Trading Places With an English Hound

Friends, I am switching some of my attention in the first days of this new year to a blog I have just launched: The English Hound. As the blog's subtitle says, the column will provide tips on using and even enjoying the English language. It is actually a continuation of a column by the same name that I began years ago while collecting a paycheck as a writer and editor. :-) And I find that I miss it.

My hope is that the Hound will provide interesting tidbits on why we say some of the things we do and how to avoid embarrassment through misuse of one kind or another.

You can find the Hound at EnglishHound.Blogspot.com. You may even submit questions through the Comment feature there, and I will try to cover them in upcoming columns (or include an email address if you would prefer an individual reply).

So we'll see you here at Saints and Muddy Shoes, or at The English Hound

Ann Maureen

January 3, 2017

Wednesday, September 14, 2016

Revisiting Donald Trump

Some of you remember that I wrote a few months ago, before the Republican Party had picked its candidate, why Donald Trump scared me and should scare you, too.

But here we are, with Mr. Trump as America's only alternative. If he loses this election, we will see Mrs. Hillary Rodham Clinton making herself at home in her husband's old office on Pennsylvania Avenue. In a nightmarish vision, I see her leaning back in the luxurious chair behind the gleaming desk, flexing her fingers, and exhaling "I did it, by God, I did it! They actually made me President of the United States despite all the scandals." Then, looking at her loyal staffers, standing about her as they await orders, Mrs. President acknowledges, "We really are good, aren't we?"

Now some of us have so many reservations about Mr. Trump that we cannot quite bring ourselves to put up a yard sign or press a sticker onto our car. I understand, and this column is really for you. Here are the undeniable facts:
  • Mrs. Clinton is indescribably corrupt. She will bring a whole new level of rotten to the Oval Office.
  • She and her Democratic Party, among their many deeply misguided ideas, state in their platform that they will work tirelessly to ensure that abortion access up to the time of birth not only continues in the United States but is imposed on the entire globe. (Sorry, Ireland, if you'd rather not have that--the U.S. Democrats feel you should and will do whatever they can to get you there.)
  • Supreme Court judge seats will be opening up. Do we want Mrs. Clinton, with her frightening perspectives and stunning irresponsibility, picking our highest judges? Or Mr. Trump and his people, who at least know what the limits of government ought to be and have some respect for the many stages of human life?
This list could get much longer. The short story is: America has a far better chance with Mr. Trump, especially with the very respectable and level-headed Mike Pence at his side, than we could possibly hope for with Mrs.Clinton. And voting for some third-party candidate in an election of this importance is a vote thrown away and a duty unfulfilled.

This election reminds me of the dilemma faced by voters in the Kansas City area years ago. The once-grand Union Station was on the brink of collapse. We could either watch the demolition of that historic and magnificent structure, or vote for saving it and turning it into a space for a questionable science exhibit. I suspected that the science museum would not pan out in the long run. But voting for it would save the station, and its proper use could be fought over later. The proposal passed, the station was restored to its former glory, the science exhibits did poorly, but the building thrives as a space for other events, restaurants, and as a landmark the city continues to love and show off.

We preserved the station. Let's preserve the nation. 

Photo courtesy of CNN.

Saturday, September 3, 2016

Caution: Falling Fertility Zone

According to an article in the latest issue of the National Catholic Register,* the U.S. birthrate has now fallen to 1.8 children per woman over the course of her lifetime. Our birth rate has been falling most noticeably since the recession of 2007 and is now at its lowest level ever, according to the Centers for Disease Control.  The current figure is well below the accepted replacement value of 2.1 children per woman.

Many reasons contribute to this bleak picture, of course. Life is expensive and incomes are not keeping pace. Especially for younger adults, it often takes both spouses working to pay the rent or mortgage, making carving out the time and money to parent some children appear daunting. Many have college debt to pay off for many years to come. The traditional value ascribed to having a family has weakened dramatically, with heavy emphasis now on "personal fulfillment." And couples who do want to start a family can feel frightened at doing it all on their own since they find themselves far away from parents and other siblings who might help.

But we cannot ignore a fundamental phenomenon that strikes me every day: The media and the public education system have made it uncool to be "just a mother." Take a recent TV ad that showed clips of a dozen or so children saying what they wanted to be when they grew up. Firefighter, astronaut, marine biologist--these were allowable answers. In these types of scenarios, no little girl is ever shown saying "I want to be a mommy."

Men and women must now be interchangeable in every way. Each week I see previews for new movies with female heroines who kick and slash burly opponents even better than their male co-fighters (even though these women are built with the delicacy of dragonflies). To contribute to the noble cause, the girl has to fight like the guys and live like the guys.

The idea that mommy-ing is not nearly enough to justify a woman's existence took hold in the feminism of the 1970s, as many of us remember. By now this idea is engraved on nearly every girl's consciousness.

How ironic that the feminists pushed women to live meaningful lives by urging them to do what men had been doing since time immemorial: Go out and get a job and bring home as much money as you can. The feminists could have, instead, drawn attention and honor to the profession of mothering and household management, critical jobs that women have excelled in throughout history. They could have lauded the home arts. Great skill and stamina are needed to manage a house full of busy children, take care of one's husband (they really need that), and ensure that everyone is fed and has laces in their shoes. Now that you mention it, the job of an oil-spill remediation director sounds simple by comparison.

Instead, the idea that women should "pull their weight" economically in a household is now deeply ingrained among both men and women. I cannot count the stories I have heard from women who would like to stay home but their husbands demand that they contribute to the budget and do their fiscal "fair share." Faced with having to hold down an outside job and care for the house and a child in her off-hours, who could blame a woman for not finding the energy to add more children to the family? 

The truth is that being a professional wife and mother is a whole lot harder than most other careers, and the pay in actual dollars is zero. The benefits in health and stability for one's family, however, are priceless. And our society is now paying the price of not having such captains in the home, with a firm hand on the wheel. Part of that price is a fertility rate of 1.8.

________
*"Whither the Culture of Life?" by Peter J. Smith, National Catholic Register, September 4, 2016.

Tuesday, May 31, 2016

The Unspoken Lesson in Harambe's Death

Nearly everyone has read by now of the unfortunate shooting of the gorilla named Harambe at the Cincinnati zoo the other day. Animal activists are outraged. The barrier, they say, around the gorilla pen should have been impenetrable. Maybe they also think the zoo keepers should have been more resourceful in saving the 4-year-old (some accounts say 3-year-old) who entered the enclosure. But zoo staff saw a child in the hands of an adult male gorilla and took quick, sure action. (This stands in contrast to the staff at the Palm Beach zoo a few weeks ago who chose to shoot a tranquilizer into a tiger who was mauling his keeper; the drug took enough time to take effect to ensure the keeper's death).

But there is a lesson in Harambe's death I have not heard mentioned. Obedience. The young boy, according to eye witness accounts, was told by his mother and a bystander NOT to try to go in with the gorillas, as he said he wanted to. The mother, busy with other children, did not notice her son as he ignored her instructions. As he proceeded through the barrier, he also ignored another woman's warnings, then fell into the moat, where Harambe zeroed in on him.

I see many parents who seem to feel that obedience to their commands is optional. Whether it's "No, you can't have any more gummi worms right now" or "No, you can't go into the gorilla's pen," the child has learned that his mother probably doesn't really mean it. He always manages to snatch another handful of candy, or get another half-hour in the pool, or not have to sit next to his brother if he just pushes it enough.

Many parents allow these defeats, telling themselves that it's not that big a deal. But the story of Harambe brings the error of this approach into painfully sharp focus. For centuries children have been taught to obey their parents for their own safety. A habit of doing what you're told must be formed as the stakes rise in the  child's life and more and more dangers present themselves. "No, you may not go out in the backyard" can one day be as important as "You may not beat on the fallen hornets' nest." Or worse.

Naturally, no parent can completely ensure that his child will not do something terrifying, especially when they have a very strong-willed tot. But a pattern of ignoring one's parents from a young age is almost sure to have serious consequences of one kind or another as the years go by. And since this little boy's willfulness led to the death of a magnificent silver-back gorilla, imagine his own difficulty in the years ahead as he grapples with the fact that his stubborn behavior brought about the shooting of the captive--and no doubt confused--gorilla.

Harambe reminds all parents to please, as the old song says, "Teach your children well."

Tuesday, April 19, 2016

Mirror, Mirror, on My Phone

We had just finished watching an odd movie based on the Snow White story when my husband observed, "Isn't the cell phone the new 'Mirror, Mirror, on the wall'?"

I stared at him. "Why, that's positively profound!" I found myself saying (not something I admit often to this sweet man).

We are all familiar with today's phenomom of young people staring incessantly at their phones--or maybe I should call them "hand-held electronic devices" since they are so much more than telephones. The obsession reflected on their faces indicates that something big is at stake in this digital activity. This is not a casual checking of messages or peeking at the forecast to see if they should have brought the umbrella after all.

Rather, what we see is a fixed, almost unblinking stare at the little screen in her hand. And yes, it is usually females I see afflicted in this way. She passes you on a narrow sidewalk without looking up. She walks through an ancient fort at the edge of a sparkling sea (a tour that her parents  paid a lot of money to take the family through) without even a glance at the venerable stone walls or colorful soldiers. When she goes out with her friends, you might see them lined up on a bench, all silent, and furiously tapping out messages to someone, somewhere.

What is so urgent, so absorbing? Well, like the evil queen in Snow White, these young ladies are checking on how they compare to all the other young ladies in the world. How many messages do I have? How many people "liked" the photos that I posted this morning? Did anyone comment on my comment when they saw how brilliant it was? Did those guys from last night accept me as a connection? Am I, at this moment, the electronically fairest of them all--or at least not completely pathetic???

This level of anxiety makes the evil queen's tension, as she waits for her mirror to confirm her unmatched beauty, look like a warm, bubbly soak. And if this variety of networked self-absorption were not enough, today's young damsels can load an app that turns their phone into an actual mirror. Yes, thank goodness for those  front-facing cameras and their vivid screens. She can buy the Makeup Mirror app and stare at herself as she walks along, checking her look in every light at every angle at every hour of the day. The app promises "awesome image visibility" and even has "gesture controls" (whatever those are).

This all makes me remember a classmate of mine in junior high. She had gone off to a camp one summer for a week. When I saw her afterward, she approached me grinning and said it was the best week she could remember. "Really? Why?" I asked.  The best part of it all, she said, was that they did not provide any mirrors. For an entire week she did not think about how she looked, she just did things like hiking and swimming and making camp fires.

How wonderful, I thought. To be looking out, not in. Such a shame that we have gone explosively in exactly the other direction.

Image courtesy of Pinterest.