Raising Children to Remain Children

I read an article the other day, and then later that night, I watched the actual televised story about that same article on the evening “big” news. The story was about a high school in East Hanover, New Jersey that experienced a parental disruption and outrage because their daughter was not chosen during the cheer-leading squad tryouts.

Long story short, it was decided that anyone who tried out for the cheer-leading squad would automatically be chosen and if that was not the way anyone wanted to handle it – there would be NO cheer-leading squad at all.

People, I am worried for this world. I am so very worried about what is to come, and as many days as I wish I was 25 years old again instead of the 54 years of age that I have reached, I stop and think again how glad I will be that I probably just won’t really know how most of this is going to turn out.

When children are small, and by small, I mean ages 4-8, I understand to a degree, the wide range trophy giving – in my opinion it’s used as an encouragement tool. It’s used as an example that everyone participated and everyone tried their best.

I do understand that a lot of teachers and coaches may not think the way I do, but I believe in incentives for smaller children. I believe at an early age, they need to be encouraged in any way possible to keep their faces out of the television and participating in more activities outside, that will teach teamwork, sharing, participation, respect, and the ability to follow simple directions and even leadership.

But here is where I draw the line; once you become any age that is trying out for school sports, cheer-leading etc., there are going to be disappointment’s. Everyone cannot play. Everyone should not be chosen. It’s not about the prettiest or the most athletic looking person (or should never be) it should be about who is the readiest for the task/position at hand.

I’m just not sure when it stops. What will happen to our need to compete, to be better, and the strive to be the best if we’re already, always “equal”. I believe in working for what you get in life and I’m completely convinced that the way we are proceeding down these new paths is only going to ensure – no one ever has to really try at all. What will happen when that almost 16-year-old child/young adult has his first job interview and is not chosen? Will Mommy still call and complain?

I raised my children to believe in themselves AND to expect to be disappointed sometimes – but to also TRY AGAIN. That if they really wanted something, to work harder, work faster, and work smarter; and slowly, as they grew older, they learned to set goals for themselves.

This new trend is not helping to create self-sufficient adults, it is crippling them. We are teaching them that everything is free – and I can promise you this – in the real world – IT IS NOT. Life is WORK – and in real life, things are never simply handed to you just because you showed-up.

Southern Peace, and Comfort

#89 David Glenn Underwood 

As we pulled up to the house, the lawn was full of every type of motor vehicle one could imagine. Admittedly, I am not the best driver, so, finding a spot that I can fit my truck into, that I won’t get blocked in or have to squeeze back out of when I’m leaving, appeared to be the difficult task ahead.

Finally, I find the perfect place that I should just be able to roll in or out of once it’s time to go, we park, and began to unload our bags to take inside.

When I moved to Quincy, almost 20 years ago now, I would say the only funerals I had ever been to at my then age of thirty-five, were those of elderly family members. Since moving here, unfortunately, I cannot even tell you how many services have been added to that list count, none of them blood family, but most family just the same.

We entered the house and it was of course, packed inside with as many people as cars were parked outside. With each step I took, so many familiar faces were spotted, hugs given and taken, and from the front of the house all the way to the back, as I made my way with the bags, there was nothing but love and compassion on every single face I saw.

Just inside the doorway of the kitchen, women were bustling in every direction and the smells were like you had just stepped into the best country diner in the world! They were laying-out and arranging all the food that had been brought in, getting it all ready for anyone who’d like to come back, grab a paper plate and a plastic fork, and taste some of the best food prepared by southern cooks.

Before I moved here, I ever never seen the likes of such. City folk don’t seem to carry that tradition around in their pocket. The first thing that starts happening when any death occurs here, are the phone calls, and folks trying to decide who will bring what food, and who is in charge of the paper goods.

That’s what we do in these times of grief and sadness, we feed people. We feed them, we gather round them, and we talk about most everything but what brought us together that particular day in the first place. We laugh and tell old stories back and forth, and we visit. We visit with people we haven’t seen in forever and a day, because life gets busy and we don’t seem to have the time, until something horrible happens, that makes us stop and recognize what the most important thing of all is: family and friends.

This county lost a young man this past week, David Glenn Underwood, way before he reached his prime and far too early for his Mama and Daddy; that is just not the way the cycle of life is supposed to work. The entire Underwood family has always been so good to me and mine, so I continue to send love, and prayers for them to have peace and comfort to get through the days ahead.

Kindness Leaves A Legacy

What feels like a million years ago now, a woman and her two children moved to Quincy Florida all on their own. The company that the woman worked for told her they would take care of getting her and all her belongings moved, to not worry one little bit.

As the time grew closer for her to move, she noticed that no one was saying anything about hiring a moving service to pack-up her things and get them from Albany Georgia to Quincy Florida. So, a week away from the time scheduled for her to move, she finally asked, just what was the plan to be?

She would soon find out that a couple of fellows from that same said company would be moving her and all her belongings here – not a moving company. They would rent a big U-Haul trailer, and they would  help her pack and load.

The man heading up that group of “movers” was Ricky “Big Rick” Gleaton. He drove to Albany Georgia with a U-Haul truck and a regular truck and small trailer hooked behind it. To this day, I know he was not prepared for the work that was before him once he arrived.

Ricky and I, and his other two helpers worked all day, boxing and loading that U-Haul. Sometime around 3 or 4 o’clock I was finally brave enough to tell him that I wanted to also bring my smallest child’s swing-set. He said no problem, they dug it up, as the poles were concreted down, and loaded it on the back of the open trailer.

Then I showed him my front yard wooden swing attached to wooden posts that were also concreted into the ground. Right after my divorce, my daddy and my children built that swing together. My daddy said my little family needed to somewhere to sit and talk about our days, and that’s exactly what has happened; for about 22 years now. The swing itself has had to be replaced, but those same wooden posts are what sits in my yard today, holding another swing filled with conversation history.

Ricky also dug up that swing/poles, and you won’t believe this, but I told him I wanted to bring my two crepe myrtle trees that sat on either side of it, as they hadn’t been long planted. Without blinking an eye, he asked did I have a shovel and proceeded to dig those up too!

By the time we made it to Quincy that evening, it was almost dark. We decided not to unload until the next day. All we took inside my new house was a lamp and my mattresses; at first. Which was fine with me! But nothing would do until the bed frame was set-up and the mattresses on it. Ricky didn’t want me sleeping on the “floor”.

Ricky Gleaton is gone now, but that’s who that man was; to me, and everyone else he ever knew. His little girl and granddaughter got married this past weekend; Susan was a beautiful bride and I know she made her Daddy so very proud, and I know he was watching from the best cloud in heaven.