Balance in a world of agonies

I've been reading a book I borrowed from my dad: My War by Andy Rooney. Yes, the same Andy Rooney who's on 60 Minutes, or used to be—I haven't seen that show in ages so I'm uncertain as to whether Andy still offers his curmudgeonly commentaries there. Anyway, it's an interesting, sometimes funny, often brutal and upsetting account of Andy's time as a war correspondent during WWII.

A first-hand account of what someone sees during bloody wartime makes for some pretty awful stories. I wouldn't say the book is fun to read, because it's not. Parts of it are fun, parts are entertaining (his opinionated reports on George Patton and Ernest Hemingway are downright laughable), and parts of it are stomach-turning because they include factual accounts of death scenes I couldn't imagine in my worst nightmare.

Why am I reading this book? Well, I need to know more about American history, for one thing; I seem to be the member of my family most lacking in general historical knowledge. For another, I like Andy Rooney's style; I admire his succinct and sometimes caustic delivery. Lastly, I live in such an innocent little suburban bubble that I feel the need to expose myself to reality. Unpleasant, messy reality.

That sort of reality doesn't exist only in the past, as you well know. It's all around us. You can't turn on the news without hearing of death and destruction, fire and floods, murders and terrorists. Our world is a scary place. I can tune out and live in my bubble, but in order to exist in our culture, I have to expose myself to news coverage at least somewhat, especially if I want to know when the snowstorm is coming.

I guess if we want to live a balanced life, we need a little bit of both worlds: the dangerous place all around us versus the good place where most of us are blessed to be regularly. I read a book like the Andy Rooney account, and then I read an easier, happier, more escapist novel that gives me a little boost. Recently, I re-read The Secret Garden. That's a feel-good kind of story, and pretty much the antithesis of a war memoir.

I try to take the same approach to daily media consumption. Do I need to know that there are people in the world who are capable of burying a child alive? Is it necessary to hear that another drug deal went bad and someone was shot in the face? Must I be advised of a deadly dog attack, see pictures of a vandalized cemetary, or know the details of a little boy's drowning in a septic tank?

I don't know. I certainly don't want this information. Yet neither do I want to live so blissfully and ignorantly that I'm unaware of the fallen world around me. If I don't hear the bad news, perhaps the video of a soldier's homecoming won't touch me as deeply. If I'm never reminded of the evil that surrounds us, perhaps I'll forget to teach my child wariness of odd strangers or unfamiliar dogs. If I don't read the stories of tremendous casualties during combat, I might never truly appreciate a serviceman's duty done well, or the scars that service leaves.

We have to find balance. We have to be careful, because what you put in your mind stays there. If you fill it with gore, violence, and hatred, it will consume you. Likewise, if you fill it with mindlessness, with too many new cars and fashion and man-made fluff, it's probable you'll lose touch with real priorities. Lord knows it's easy to do that, with our silly, selfish, overly-comfortable lifestyles. It's important to read the comics; it's also important to read the headlines, the features stories.

I filter everything that comes into my world—books, papers, magazines, television, movies. You can't take something out once it lives in your mind. Be selective. Be perceptive. If something feels disturbing and wrong, walk away. I will forever be haunted by a taped 911 cell phone conversation I heard on a news show years ago: the last words of a woman who'd mistakenly driven off a bridge and into water, where she foolishly called 911 for help instead of getting out of the car immediately... That's a phone conversation I never wanted to hear, and it will never be out of my head.

Balance is difficult to achieve. I don't think I'll ever get it exactly right. I'm trying. Meantime, we watched It's a Wonderful Life the other night; it was nice to go there, and take a break from liberating the French countryside.

(Sorry—this is about as far from a light, Christmas-y post as you can get. But hey, Christmas is still almost two weeks away! Plenty of time left to be jolly! Now, where are those jingle bells!?)

Bald-faced Mel-isms

This was an unexpectedly busy weekend, with some nice surprises. I'm still sorting it all out, so I'll write about that soon but not yet. Meantime, I'll just drop some bombs from the top of my head.

• I feel more and more certain that at least 65% of the general population of children in the United States could benefit from a sound beating. At least once, daily. Yes, even the smaller kids. If the sampling of the child population is located in a comfortable suburb and filled with kids who have no real needs (other than discipline and a chance to achieve boredom), then that percentage rises to at least 85%.

• I can hardly read the newspaper anymore without becoming livid. (We gave up MSM network television years ago, partly for that same reason.) Why are so many people dancing around the obvious? This Hasan guy in Fort Hood was an extremist working within our own ranks. He was the enemy on the inside. He should have been watched and researched and removed from duty. He spoke up against his own troops, for the bombers, vocalized his support, spoke the language of terrorists. Why is our so-called leader not naming this act as it was? Oh, that's right. He probably funded the jerk. Or received funding from him. Or prayed with him, or bowed with him, or discussed the most efficient means of takeover. Covertly, from a position in which you are snugly nestled amidst the enemy. Sound familiar?

• Why do we hear so much more about extremism in Islam than we do about extremists in other religions? Especially outwardly directed extremism? Every religious group has radicals, but so few of them do as much major damage to unbelievers as the extreme Muslims. I'm certain the media is not ignoring related instances, since they so eagerly embrace anything that helps to whitewash the current crazies. I just figure it must not be happening, or it's kept inside the tribe. Either way, I feel like that's a whole lot better than the subtle and not-so-subtle wars against us that we're witnessing these days.

• On a much happier note, I am honestly amazed nearly every day that my son is mine. He delights me. He is such a special kid that I can't believe I hatched him, nor that we're blessed enough to have him with us.

• I cannot believe how being forced to do something you love starts to make that beloved task feel like work. Cooking, tidying, planning the shopping. All of them fine, even fun—until I must perform them, in a restricted period of time. Then? Work.

• My husband, family, and friends are far sneakier than I ever imagined. And, I'm sad to report, I am far more gullible than suspected.

• I think for the most part that wedding registries are stupid. I believe they are left over from a bygone era when people got married and then moved from their parents' homes into a home together without most household possessions. It just ain't happenin' that way anymore, folks. Not happy to say it, but there it is.

• I have to keep readjusting my definition of old, because I keep on attaining the pre-adjusted definition.

• My husband has this way, when he's asked how he's doing, to reply with the words, "Better than I deserve." And many times, it has kind of irked me for reasons I can't really express. However? Some days, like today? I think I know what he means.

• My church is not perfect. Yet, it's doing a lot of things right. I must be more thankful for that body of believers.

• I am going to try really hard to be more positive and hopeful. And to trust completely that God's got it covered.

Well wishes to yinz,
mel

Random thoughts

I've managed to contract the kid's bug, in some weird mutated form, so I'm short on insightful thoughts about pretty much anything right now. Here's what I've been thinking about instead:

Why do we humans have so many different and frequently disgusting fluids, solids, and forms of mucus exiting our bodies at all times? I've been presented with some nasty, odd-colored nasal discharges from my son these past couple of days, and that's just the tip of the iceberg as far as unsavory discharges, from him or from anyone else. Makes you wonder how that seemed like a good idea when we were being formed on the sixth day and all that. This is definitely a question I'll have for the Maker someday...

Thinking about mucus reminds me of all these hip, happening new viruses on the market, like MRSA; is there another Biosphere experiment in the works anywhere? Maybe they'll hold a lottery for the next lucky dwellers—let me know if you hear anything...

Speaking of living in a bubble, what will our morally upstanding media (cough, cough) do if Hollywood suddenly produces a successful teen star who miraculously marches into adulthood still sober, clean of drugs, free of a police record, and without an eating disorder? Oh, wait—that person will have been kicked to the curb long before he/she reaches adulthood. Too boring.

And since we're talking about the media, how must a soldier or fresh veteran feel after watching a broadcast of the news and finding that the war is usually not the top story? That's a slap in the face, eh? Thanks for fighting--just get in line behind Britney and her kids and the parenting coach, okay? What's that, you're handicapped and you need a chair? Geesh--you people sure are demanding.

Well, I can see I'm on my way to a rather corrosive little diatribe, so I'll stop now. In case there's any doubt, I support our troops and what they are doing. And I definitely feel most days as if Americans in general are pretty spoiled and rather superficial—not excluding me. But that's a post for another day.

Send us healing thoughts, please! Thanks.