South Dakota just passed one of the most stringent anti-abortion laws in this nation's history since Roe v. Wade, and is no doubt meant to be the instigator of the first of what will become many attacks on the decision. The goal of such measures: to completely outlaw abortions, except in the case where the pregnant woman's life is in danger. (And I would expect even that will come under attack by ultra-conservatives; as a result, being pregnant will literally mean you would give your life for your child's. Most mothers would undoubtedly stand for that after the birth of their child, but I don't know of many who would choose it before--but the choice, in the conservatives' minds, is exactly what women shouldn't have.)
What this does mean is that women who become pregnant as a result of rape and/or incest will not have the choice to abort that child. Not only that, but it also means that the perpetrator of such crimes and his family would then be considered in custody and other parental rights' decisions. Of course, it also means they could be held responsible for child support as well, but we all know wonderfully that whole system works.
The issue of counseling the next generation in a society where abortion is outlawed is knowing that there will be an increase in the number of human beings whose conceptions came of violence and/or family relations. Individuals will grow up either knowing or finding out that their existence is the result of forced intercourse, an illegal exertion of power and control, not as an act of love or willful creation of a next generation. How might this affect a person's sense of identity? Of self worth?
What about women who are raped, who are victims of incest and now pregnant? These women will also need support from the very society that forces them to carry these children and subsequently raise them or give them up for adoption. What are current attitudes towards single mothers? Towards young teens who are pregnant? As the number of pregnant women and teens increases, will supportive attitudes prevail and increase correspondingly? I'm going to hold a pessimistic "No" response on this one, but I would love to be proved wrong.
I also can't help but question how these mothers might actually raise these children, how a woman who is raped by a stranger will love her child, how a teen whose child has the same father as she does will interact emotionally with that child as she raises it. It cannot be assumed these women will automatically give their children up for adoption; in a culture which forces their continued pregnancies, they may also feel the pressure to see through raising the child as well. What will the mental and emotional dynamic be of these mothers' relationships with their children? And how is this going to affect this next generation of children?
As a result of such restrictive abortion laws there will also be an increase in the number of children born out of wedlock (already problematic nomenclature, but still a prevailing ideology in our culture). In a time of outcry against diminishing "family values" and protection of marriage acts passing in state after state, we will see an increase in children born to single mothers, to absent fathers (if they were even known at all), and fathers who are not in a position be take on the role of father to the child for whom they are also already grandfather, great-grandfather, uncle, etc. As a society, we must begin now to prepare ourselves for the onslaught of mental and emotional complexities that will result from all such possibilities.
If this concern seems overblown, keep in mind the statistic that one in three women will be a victim of sexual assault in this society. One in three. Now consider the likely percentage of those that might result in an unwanted pregnancy. Rape and incest are still hushed topics in our culture, but by outlawing abortion, we will literally be able to see before our very eyes just what a prevelant place these vile acts maintain. We are not, by far, a civilized nation, and it has nothing to do with abortion.
Our society must begin to prepare itself for a new generation of bastard children whom we have demanded be born, and be prepared to embrace them and bring them into our lives. (Not to mention being ready to support the ensuing health issues that will be on the increase, those genetic complexities that result from familial inbreeding, and unknown health issues that a rapist passes on to his resulting child. An increase in special education needs in elementary schools, an increase in health care needs for young mothers dependent upon state aid...)
I wonder just how many parents would be eager to have their child play with "Tommy" from next door, who was born as the result of the 12-year-old neighbor being raped by her grandfather, all of whom are still living as a family unit. Or how supportive teachers will be of the single mother coming to parent teacher night who explains the reason for "Emily's" absent father is that she had been raped by a stranger and there was never any father in the picture. You might say that she wouldn't even say that, but why wouldn't she? We have told her it is nothing by which to be ashamed. Or will there be an increase as well in the currently prevailing response of victim blaming? So that now, not only is the woman to blame for being raped by stranger, family or friend, but this child is the living punishment for her transgression (of simply being born a woman in this society)? How would you feel as an adult to know that this society believed your existence to be the punishment for your mother having been raped by a stranger or by her own brother? I can't even begin to imagine the years of therapy that will take or the emotional response an individual might take against that very society as a means of acting out.
We must all seriously question just how we plan to live with this next generation of children, how we plan not to ostracize this group and make them feel as though their births were not misfortunes or mistakes. Frankly, I don't see it happening. If anything, we are about to become the first of a series of generational dominoes that will come crashing down as these children grow up despised, regretted and outcast from the very society that demanded they exist in the first place. It will be a long time in coming, if ever, before we embrace them and call them family.
Saturday, February 25, 2006
Thursday, February 09, 2006
Whimsy
I have been focusing on this word the past week or so. It came to mind one early morning as I was out walking the dog just before dawn in a light dusting of new-fallen snow. The air was crisp and as we walked, we left our footprints behind us. I could see the footprints of someone else who had been up before us. Unmistakable by its path, down the whole block-length sidewalk, a few steps up each house walkway: the paperboy (in our case, yes, it is a young male). I looked at and was able to identify the pattern of his boot tred on several blocks in a row. Suddenly, on one block, I noticed his individual steps had become a shuffling walk. He had dragged his feet to create two solid lines through the snow down to the concrete sidewalk. The parallel lines then took to curving, as he had shuffled his feet first from one grass-edged side of the walk to other. Looking up, I was taken aback to see he had continued this movement down the entire length of the block, a carefully measured serpentine pattern that arced left and right, left and right. I felt a spontaneous smile emerge as I stood in awe of the simple artistic beauty of these lines, the snow and cement and entire city block his canvas on which to create this transient image.
I laughed an appreciative and surprising laugh as I moved onto the terrace to continue our walk, careful not to disturb his work. I marveled at the time and careful thought it must have taken him to drag through this block, no doubt the whole time burdened with his pack of papers, but no more in a hurry to be done with his chore. I wonder if at some point he stopped and looked back at his work, satisfied with his creation. Did he for a moment hope that others might come upon it and appreciate its beauty, or be mystified by its appearance, something akin to crop circles? Or maybe this is just something he had done numerous times, out of boredom, walking that route every morning, rain, snow, darkness and sunrise. Regardless, I would just bet that at some point, either before, during or after his act of creating this, he must have smiled, if even slightly, at the thought of it, upon seeing its completion. In the same way I smiled upon encountering it and relishing in its existence. This, then, is what I came to identify as an act of whimsy, both in its creation and in its appreciation.
Whimsy, I said to myself over and over. How simple. How utterly delightful. How fun. Whimsy. But not just silly or childish. It was artistic. It was creative. Whimsy. The word stuck with me, as much fun to say as its own meaning, like how an onomatopoeia sounds like what it means to describe (pitter-patter of rain, creak of the door), this word makes you feel like what it means to define. Just try saying it: whimsy. It makes you want to smile just a bit, or even giggle. Maybe it’s an emotionomatopoeia—an emotional reflection of the word, or a psychonomatopoeia. Yet more whimsy in just creating these words.
Whimsy. The word hung in my head. What is whimsy? Of course, like good English-folk, I went to my dictionary for a more precise definition and was actually most dissatisfied with what I found there: an odd or fanciful idea; a quaint or fanciful quality; acting more from unpredictability than reason or judgment; an odd idea; a freak; an odd conceit; capricious (impulsive, unpredictable).
No, no. These wouldn’t do at all. It wasn’t what I had felt in seeing the serpentine creation; in some ways, yes—it was “odd” in that it was out of the ordinary, and unpredictable in that same way, as well as fanciful. But there seemed to be more negative connotation to those dictionary descriptors than what I sensed when I thought of whimsy. Certainly, I can see this having been a definition of the word when it would have been created, in a time when there wasn’t an appreciation for that which may have on the surface seemed frivolous. But, then, weren’t many artists considered such? Their works not considered serious, not, certainly, a serious profession, and most likely in their lifetimes, not appreciated for their innovation and depth. We see this a great deal more upon reflection of artists’ works from the past. Has this really changed that much? In some ways I think we do have a new and different sense of value for art, a greater appreciation and understanding of it and of our need for it in our lives, yet at the same time, some of those same old struggles continue. Can we not, then, revisit this notion of whimsy and perhaps create a new definition of it? Lets. Something which reflects a greater sense of fun and joy, snippets of bliss in our daily lives of mundane predictability and grayness. Accessorize with whimsy.
I think about ways in which I can be whimsical in my daily life, so I’m not sure that the act of being whimsical is in itself the unpredictable part so much as the person on the receiving end of the act does not predict its presence in their daily lives. For example, at the beach, collecting rocks and stacking them in a grouping so that others who come walking down the same path will see them. I would consider that an act of whimsy. It’s really meant to be simply fun, something that others will look at and say, “Oh, neat” and “Look at this, isn’t that fun?”
Acts of whimsy are actually quite creative, and require some thought and planning on the part of the creator, either in advance, or in the spur of the moment, but enough thought so that when asked about the creation of it, the answer isn’t simply, “Oh, I don’t know.” But instead could be, in the case of the bored paperboy, “I thought it was fun to walk back and forth, and I wanted to see if I could do it for the whole block.” Or “I thought it looked cool when I started it, so then I wanted to see if I could do a really long design.” That shows some consideration of the part of the creator which could be found out if queried. Another example is that at home, I have a tiny carved bear fetish my husband gave me to carry around in my pocket. However, I knew if I had it in a pocket, it would quickly become forgotten, lost in the wash, or vacuumed up some fateful afternoon after having fallen out. So, instead, I began placing it around the house. I set it on the banister. My husband asked about it, and I said the bear wanted to be there so he could watch us as we worked during the day. A few days later, I moved the bear to a window sill. My husband noticed this and asked about it. I said the bear must have wanted to look out the window and watch the snow fall. I don’t have a set schedule for moving the bear, and I don’t have it planned where he will go next, but, on a whim, I know I will someday grab him and simply drop him off in a new location and there will be a new story to go along with it once I am asked. Or, maybe this time, my husband will come up with the story himself and participate in creating this act of whimsy.
Are animals whimsical? I have wondered as I’ve been pondering the concept of whimsy. I often think my dog or cat really does mean to be funny sometimes in their own instinctual animal ways. When walking through the room, the cat will sometimes come out and jump up at the back of my legs, then simply drop to the floor and look at me as I yelp back in surprise. He doesn’t run away. He doesn’t look as though he wants to continue to play. He just sort of sits there and, yes, smiles at me, like, “Ha! Wasn’t that funny? Don’t you find me cunning and creative for still being able to surprise you like that?” Or the dog, who likes to hide his toys inside his owner’s shoes. I know an animal behaviorist will have a scientific explanation for this, but couldn’t it also be considered and animal act of whimsy? Or, for simple-minded me who doesn’t know the explanation for it, can I not consider it an act of whimsy and appreciate it as such?
I heard a song on the radio the other morning, its lyrics went something like, “I know why the Mona Lisa smiles, that DiVinci must have been a pretty funny guy.” And I thought, sure, the Mona Lisa is one of our greatest examples of how an artist himself created one of the most lasting symbols of whimsy. Was he intentionally being whimsical in his creation of the figure? Was the Mona Lisa model appreciating a bit of whimsy at the time of the painting, as the singer suggests? Don’t we continue to appreciate it as a bit of whimsy in our own lives? What mystery and at the same time what satisfaction this one piece has created for generations of viewers. And how greatly is it that we truly need and desire whimsy in our lives, as we have valued this painting as some kind of treasure.
Like purposefully creating opportunities for random acts of kindness in our days, I propose we also now add whimsy to our repertoire. Perhaps not every day, but once in a while, how about a random act of whimsy (is that redundant?). How about a simple sticky note with a smiley face on it stuck to the inside of a cabinet at work; pencils on a table lined up to spell out HI; a stack of rocks in an unexpected place; macaroni art in a gilded frame; famous quotes on labels stuck in unexpected spaces to enlightened someone’s day… The possibilities are endless since whimsy can crop up at any moment, inspired by the moment, anonymous, to be enjoyed or ahhh’d. But most of all, whimsy is more than the thought of action, it’s more than simply thinking, “Wouldn’t it be fun if…?” It’s the act. And so I urge you all, today, just let a little edge of your daily guard down, let loose a bit of that social rigidity, give in to a “freak” creative thought in the mire of daily structure and predictability. Be whimsical. I think you’ll enjoy it. And others will too. What a better world it will be with just a little more whimsy.
I laughed an appreciative and surprising laugh as I moved onto the terrace to continue our walk, careful not to disturb his work. I marveled at the time and careful thought it must have taken him to drag through this block, no doubt the whole time burdened with his pack of papers, but no more in a hurry to be done with his chore. I wonder if at some point he stopped and looked back at his work, satisfied with his creation. Did he for a moment hope that others might come upon it and appreciate its beauty, or be mystified by its appearance, something akin to crop circles? Or maybe this is just something he had done numerous times, out of boredom, walking that route every morning, rain, snow, darkness and sunrise. Regardless, I would just bet that at some point, either before, during or after his act of creating this, he must have smiled, if even slightly, at the thought of it, upon seeing its completion. In the same way I smiled upon encountering it and relishing in its existence. This, then, is what I came to identify as an act of whimsy, both in its creation and in its appreciation.
Whimsy, I said to myself over and over. How simple. How utterly delightful. How fun. Whimsy. But not just silly or childish. It was artistic. It was creative. Whimsy. The word stuck with me, as much fun to say as its own meaning, like how an onomatopoeia sounds like what it means to describe (pitter-patter of rain, creak of the door), this word makes you feel like what it means to define. Just try saying it: whimsy. It makes you want to smile just a bit, or even giggle. Maybe it’s an emotionomatopoeia—an emotional reflection of the word, or a psychonomatopoeia. Yet more whimsy in just creating these words.
Whimsy. The word hung in my head. What is whimsy? Of course, like good English-folk, I went to my dictionary for a more precise definition and was actually most dissatisfied with what I found there: an odd or fanciful idea; a quaint or fanciful quality; acting more from unpredictability than reason or judgment; an odd idea; a freak; an odd conceit; capricious (impulsive, unpredictable).
No, no. These wouldn’t do at all. It wasn’t what I had felt in seeing the serpentine creation; in some ways, yes—it was “odd” in that it was out of the ordinary, and unpredictable in that same way, as well as fanciful. But there seemed to be more negative connotation to those dictionary descriptors than what I sensed when I thought of whimsy. Certainly, I can see this having been a definition of the word when it would have been created, in a time when there wasn’t an appreciation for that which may have on the surface seemed frivolous. But, then, weren’t many artists considered such? Their works not considered serious, not, certainly, a serious profession, and most likely in their lifetimes, not appreciated for their innovation and depth. We see this a great deal more upon reflection of artists’ works from the past. Has this really changed that much? In some ways I think we do have a new and different sense of value for art, a greater appreciation and understanding of it and of our need for it in our lives, yet at the same time, some of those same old struggles continue. Can we not, then, revisit this notion of whimsy and perhaps create a new definition of it? Lets. Something which reflects a greater sense of fun and joy, snippets of bliss in our daily lives of mundane predictability and grayness. Accessorize with whimsy.
I think about ways in which I can be whimsical in my daily life, so I’m not sure that the act of being whimsical is in itself the unpredictable part so much as the person on the receiving end of the act does not predict its presence in their daily lives. For example, at the beach, collecting rocks and stacking them in a grouping so that others who come walking down the same path will see them. I would consider that an act of whimsy. It’s really meant to be simply fun, something that others will look at and say, “Oh, neat” and “Look at this, isn’t that fun?”
Acts of whimsy are actually quite creative, and require some thought and planning on the part of the creator, either in advance, or in the spur of the moment, but enough thought so that when asked about the creation of it, the answer isn’t simply, “Oh, I don’t know.” But instead could be, in the case of the bored paperboy, “I thought it was fun to walk back and forth, and I wanted to see if I could do it for the whole block.” Or “I thought it looked cool when I started it, so then I wanted to see if I could do a really long design.” That shows some consideration of the part of the creator which could be found out if queried. Another example is that at home, I have a tiny carved bear fetish my husband gave me to carry around in my pocket. However, I knew if I had it in a pocket, it would quickly become forgotten, lost in the wash, or vacuumed up some fateful afternoon after having fallen out. So, instead, I began placing it around the house. I set it on the banister. My husband asked about it, and I said the bear wanted to be there so he could watch us as we worked during the day. A few days later, I moved the bear to a window sill. My husband noticed this and asked about it. I said the bear must have wanted to look out the window and watch the snow fall. I don’t have a set schedule for moving the bear, and I don’t have it planned where he will go next, but, on a whim, I know I will someday grab him and simply drop him off in a new location and there will be a new story to go along with it once I am asked. Or, maybe this time, my husband will come up with the story himself and participate in creating this act of whimsy.
Are animals whimsical? I have wondered as I’ve been pondering the concept of whimsy. I often think my dog or cat really does mean to be funny sometimes in their own instinctual animal ways. When walking through the room, the cat will sometimes come out and jump up at the back of my legs, then simply drop to the floor and look at me as I yelp back in surprise. He doesn’t run away. He doesn’t look as though he wants to continue to play. He just sort of sits there and, yes, smiles at me, like, “Ha! Wasn’t that funny? Don’t you find me cunning and creative for still being able to surprise you like that?” Or the dog, who likes to hide his toys inside his owner’s shoes. I know an animal behaviorist will have a scientific explanation for this, but couldn’t it also be considered and animal act of whimsy? Or, for simple-minded me who doesn’t know the explanation for it, can I not consider it an act of whimsy and appreciate it as such?
I heard a song on the radio the other morning, its lyrics went something like, “I know why the Mona Lisa smiles, that DiVinci must have been a pretty funny guy.” And I thought, sure, the Mona Lisa is one of our greatest examples of how an artist himself created one of the most lasting symbols of whimsy. Was he intentionally being whimsical in his creation of the figure? Was the Mona Lisa model appreciating a bit of whimsy at the time of the painting, as the singer suggests? Don’t we continue to appreciate it as a bit of whimsy in our own lives? What mystery and at the same time what satisfaction this one piece has created for generations of viewers. And how greatly is it that we truly need and desire whimsy in our lives, as we have valued this painting as some kind of treasure.
Like purposefully creating opportunities for random acts of kindness in our days, I propose we also now add whimsy to our repertoire. Perhaps not every day, but once in a while, how about a random act of whimsy (is that redundant?). How about a simple sticky note with a smiley face on it stuck to the inside of a cabinet at work; pencils on a table lined up to spell out HI; a stack of rocks in an unexpected place; macaroni art in a gilded frame; famous quotes on labels stuck in unexpected spaces to enlightened someone’s day… The possibilities are endless since whimsy can crop up at any moment, inspired by the moment, anonymous, to be enjoyed or ahhh’d. But most of all, whimsy is more than the thought of action, it’s more than simply thinking, “Wouldn’t it be fun if…?” It’s the act. And so I urge you all, today, just let a little edge of your daily guard down, let loose a bit of that social rigidity, give in to a “freak” creative thought in the mire of daily structure and predictability. Be whimsical. I think you’ll enjoy it. And others will too. What a better world it will be with just a little more whimsy.
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