Coming Soon! Massive Giveaway Blog Hop Event!

Begins at Midnight tonight!

Does My Happy Make You Sad?

     On the radio yesterday I listened with interest as a deejay reported findings of a study about fb. She shared results that point toward an affect of reading other people's happy statuses.  Apparently this makes people feel worse about themselves.  Some reported that it ruined their day to read of someone's good fortune.
     I'm not sure that this is true, at least for me.  But I am not in high school or college anymore and tend not to feel threatened by another person's happiness.  But if I am truly honest, I love a good, sad drama about people surviving terrible conditions.  Ever read Angela's Ashes or watch the movie?  I couldn't put it down.  Frank McCourt's childhood has to be one of the worst cases of poverty I've ever read...even topping my dad's childhood on the suffering index. Perhaps the fb study shows us a paradox.  Sadness evokes good feelings.  Feelings that connect us to one another when we struggle and grieve.
     I was still thinking of this paradox while watching AFV with Elliot.  If ever there was an occasion to laugh happily at people having mishaps that look painful, this is it.  Lifting people up by knocking them down is a theater that's been going strong for over 20 years.
    It reminds me of childhood. My father had a string of serious accidents each year.  One year he drove off the road after a sneezing attack and broke his nose.  Another year he broke a bone in his foot while playing soccer with his brother in law.  Once he broke his thumb at the joint catching a baseball with his bare hand at a family reunion.  On a cold winter's night one December, he shattered his ankle while skiing behind a snowmobile.  And each time, my father's pain sent my mother into fits of giggles.   Our hospital, Wheelock, had an emergency room staff who knew my dad by his first name.  When he'd come in to report his bad fortune, my mother would start

saying, "Rog, is it time to go to Wheeeeelock?" Te-he-ing all the way as she drove.  I can still see my dad looking up to the sky, silently asking God why his wife was filled with laughter at his pain.

   Both of my parents loved AFV because it showed them that they were normal.
     And then, if I tell you that on my wedding day, my parents and Richard's parents were in a high speed car accident with one another on the way to the chapel having-never-met-in-person before, you might start to chuckle.  The newspapers wanted that story so badly they wouldn't stop calling.
     It was a feel good story.  When I think about how we could have been in the morgue identifying bodies instead of shakily sharing our vows..


Yes, we went on with the wedding after a slight three hour delay.
    Then we drove them directly to the ER where they received pain medication and insisted that they be driven to the reception where there were double scotches to drink and embarrassing toasts to make.  We celebrated being ALIVE and together.




So, I can understand why this study makes logical sense.  It's like the feeling of safety you get while driving past and accident scene.
      I'm not saying that I'll stop writing happy statuses, but it's true.  Someone's image of perfection kinda makes me feel, well, a little messy.  But thankfully, we are all bloggers in this room.  We tell it straight and we keep it positive and we support one another.  We have a lot more to say to one another than will fit in a status bar.  We are not brought down by our shared joy.

Monday Mugs, Minimalist Shot

I'm still learning all the technical photography terms, so I'm not sure which of these would be considered minimalist.  The second calls to the minimalist me, the girl within. I used to imagine myself as a tiny person who could live in a doll house or in a fairy house in the woods.   The first one was taken by Emily, who is skilled at capturing Elliot in his naturally active and often silly expressions.

Headlights

"Writing a book is like driving a car at night.  You only see as far as your headlights go, but you can make the whole trip that way." --E.L. Doctorow

I'm not writing a book, but this is what I try to remember when learning how to be in business or taking on any long term project (such as blogging!). 

Out and About

Downtown Greensboro at the Festival of Lights

Later that night, we discovered a Pottery Studio where Elliot was invited to make his first bowl.

A surprise date at a popular nightclub where we attended a live concert

Home school that's not really at home

The Benefit of Reading Poetry to 4 Year Olds

     Elliot is a boy of many talents and pursuits.  His favorite pop culture toys are Lego Star Wars.  He loves video games, and many other things that boys love to do.  I have watched him build complex Lego creations since he was in preschool.  He loves to work with his hands, building and creating from his imagination.  He loves to climb trees, build forts, ride bikes, skate board, and wrestle with his best pal, Ozzie the dog.
     And I don't know if this will create a conflict for him later in life, but he has developed an appreciation for poetry.
     I have been reading to him at bed time since before he was born.  I gave him pieces of my childhood by reading all the books I loved.  And somehow, one book that I barely touched as a child, survived  15 moves and 24 years of sitting on shelves or hidden in boxes.  It is a treasure from my archives; the gem Now We Are Six by A. A. Milne.  My mother never read it to me.  I was a very independent reader, but this book of poems, like most good poetry, needs to be read aloud to be fully appreciated.
     The benefit of reading poems to a four year old is that when you read them again to the same child at six, he will recite the lines aloud while building Legos, as if he is singing a familiar song.
    Last night while he built Legos and I sewed Dragon Paws, I heard the lines of Twice Times being recited from the voice of my child.
   At bed time, he asked me to read more from that fragile book whose pages are yellow and torn, but still full of the magic of a boy growing up.  The beauty of Milne's poems is that there are humorous bits, but no trace of edgy sarcasm present today.  Simple beautiful themes of imaginary friends, playing outside, going to bed in the dark, alone...conveyed as a pleasant experience.

    So if you are four, or six, or 39, or 99...and want to remember the beauty of a simple day pretending, remember to read Milne aloud.

Wordless Wednesday as seen through Emily's Eyes