On the Eve
My inbox, like yours, is jammed with frantic messages about the you-know-what taking place tomorrow. from the tone of the messages, i've concluded that all of us conservative thinkers have become a gaggle of terrified whiners. we're really, truly, worried about this mysterious freshman senator the media has fallen in love with.
our fearfulness kinda reminds me of duck-and-cover drills back in fourth grade. my goodness, those of us who grew up in the '50's sure spent alot of time ducking and covering, as if crawling under our desks and contortioning our heads between our legs would save us from a nuclear attack.
what "they" didn't realize back then (aside from the obvious complete annihilation thing) is that the school parking lot would become unbounded chaos from all the moms trying to save their kid first. picture this: the air raid siren goes off (senior citizens, please define for the youngsters), 500 moms race to school in defiance of the "evacuation procedure" (parents were instructed to leave their children ducking and covering. everybody was just supposed to head for the hills; families would somehow be reunited at some nebulous location "later"). back to defiance: cars are crammed, jammed, moms are running through the halls, teachers are trying to restore order, all the while the cherubic children are quietly curled up under their desks, oblivious to the confusion.
as the bombs rain down, the moms grab their young, and race back to their cars, now ready to head for the hills.
so, what do we really need to get through the seemingly inevitable chaos heading for our dear country tomorrow? maybe it's pretty simple: we need our mommies.
ok, so maybe not literally. but think about what your mommy did for you in the midst of scary situations. she didn't freak out. she didn't bawl, whine, hide in the pantry, or take a bottle of anti-depressants. she kept you steady. she held your hand. she reminded you that, this, too, shall pass. and she reminded you to clean your plate, say your prayers, and get to bed on time.
not bad advice. even for scary times like the election of 2008.
our fearfulness kinda reminds me of duck-and-cover drills back in fourth grade. my goodness, those of us who grew up in the '50's sure spent alot of time ducking and covering, as if crawling under our desks and contortioning our heads between our legs would save us from a nuclear attack.
what "they" didn't realize back then (aside from the obvious complete annihilation thing) is that the school parking lot would become unbounded chaos from all the moms trying to save their kid first. picture this: the air raid siren goes off (senior citizens, please define for the youngsters), 500 moms race to school in defiance of the "evacuation procedure" (parents were instructed to leave their children ducking and covering. everybody was just supposed to head for the hills; families would somehow be reunited at some nebulous location "later"). back to defiance: cars are crammed, jammed, moms are running through the halls, teachers are trying to restore order, all the while the cherubic children are quietly curled up under their desks, oblivious to the confusion.
as the bombs rain down, the moms grab their young, and race back to their cars, now ready to head for the hills.
so, what do we really need to get through the seemingly inevitable chaos heading for our dear country tomorrow? maybe it's pretty simple: we need our mommies.
ok, so maybe not literally. but think about what your mommy did for you in the midst of scary situations. she didn't freak out. she didn't bawl, whine, hide in the pantry, or take a bottle of anti-depressants. she kept you steady. she held your hand. she reminded you that, this, too, shall pass. and she reminded you to clean your plate, say your prayers, and get to bed on time.
not bad advice. even for scary times like the election of 2008.
very nicely put!
ReplyDeleteI like the reminder this gives me as a mom of 3 little ones. :)
ReplyDelete