So I have been sitting alone musing, which is always a dangerous thing.
At this point you say : “Oh Rose what could you be musing about, it must be profound and interesting, please share it with us! (Or maybe you’re thinking, for the Love of Athena get on with it woman!)
I having read Don mills Blog far too much recently, have been thinking about what the problem with young people is. By young people I currently mean fifteen to thirty five.
I see these people walking around, aside from some gems, they are either cowards or far to arrogant. It’s offensive to You, Me society, decency and the gods.
You might say, oh old people have always been carrying on about the youth of today. This is true, and it has been true since Socrates’ times. But I’m not an old person, I’m eighteen, I’m as young as you can be and still be considered a grown woman in the United States. Even I see this bloody atrocity, and I’m assumed to be associated with these honorless sons of bitches.
So why am I different? What happened in my childhood to give my a sense of Honor, Courage, Honesty and Decency? I will now venture a guess.
It may have had to do with understanding mortality at an early age. When I was in first grade my mother was diagnosed with breast cancer. She went to the hospital once a week and dropped me off at school an hour early wile she got radiation treatment. Now may parents were fairly honest with me, they sat me down one day and said : Rose honey, your Momma might die soon. Cancer can kill people. If she dies she will be waiting for you in heaven with your Uncle and Grandpa Williamson.” Of course I was scared, but I understood, and I understood part of my job as member of the family was to help my mother through the day and not bother her too much because she was sick. She eventually got better, but the whole episode left me understanding that people can die, and not just old people.
I believe another ting that helped form me as a honorable person was my older brother, the Ghetto one. He, I think may have wanted a younger brother, as our other brother, was more like a big sister. So he would wrestle with me, teach me how to box, how to fight in general and what was okay and not okay to do in a fight. Now the bugger was six years old then me , and despite at that time being scrawny, beat me at it every time. That knocked a hell of a lot of arrogance out of me, thought me a bit about my relation to other people, and taught me a tolerance for pain, a love of honorable battle, and a desire to be a bad ass.
Intellectual development not to be ignored, since I was a child I always more or less had a library in my house. I grew up reading tales of Chivalry and Samurai, tales of honorable men and women fighting for the right and nobility, the horrors of war, and the beauty of love. I read of morality and philosophy. Poetry and good music was also not neglected, I grew up with books of poetry and classical music, courtesy of Nana Williamson, (may she rest in peace). Opera an theater probably also helped. I can still relate more to Hamlet than to Emeinem.
My parents did not shelter me. I was allowed to read any book I got my hands on. I saw the wars in the News, and watched documentaries on Vietnam and the World Wars. Even though they were before my time, I understood through them the breath of good and evil men were capable of, the brave protecting and the senseless slaughter. Seeing the world, I believe is crucial in forming a person.
I was taught a tolerance and respect for other cultures. The few words which were forbidden to me were racial slurs and bigoted terms. I read about the Holocaust and what Xenophobia and bigotry could lead to, and thus was taught to appreciate and respect those who were different from me. Something which, as a budding civil rights activist stayed with me to this day.
Finally and perhaps more importantly than the others, I was always an outcast. Wile other girls were prattling on about boys, I was challenging the boys I didn’t like to duels. Wile most people read teen magazines, I read the Clan of the cave bear, and the Lord Of the Rings. Wile most girls looked at boys, I was looking at the pretty girls and imagining kissing them. I had few friends but those I had were close.
So I suppose what you youth of today lacks is an appreciation for hardship, Intellectual development, humbling experience, and a desire to prove those that hate them wrong. All of which are powerful motivators.
