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Children are very important, more in tune
than our fragile adult minds are willing to admit,
because kids know what’s important
and they’ll tell you to your face,
though it’s hard to hear them
with all the nonsense man’s created
to convince the world
he ain’t so little anymore, knowing the truth
once he’s willing to truly listen.
In the presence of family,
be only with family.
Put aside the work and worry.
It’ll be there when you part.
And enjoy one another
as if each member of your family
were a dish at the dinner table.
Fill yourself with their essence.
Allow them like nutrients
to replenish your mind, body, and soul
so that when you leave one another
you’ll do so knowing
their presence is with you
for better or worse, forever and onward—
second star to the right and straight on till morning.
When I was a kid—after bedtime—as quietly as I could, I would crawl from my bed, onto the floor, then elbow and knee my way down the hallway to lay in the doorway of my brothers room to watch his television.
He’s four years older than I am and, well, I thought he was really cool.
One, for having a TV in his bedroom. And two, for probably knowing I was there but not saying anything.
Whatever he was watching didn’t really make a difference but it was comfortable there, on the carpet, with the blue light flashing.
A dark bedroom can be pretty scary to a child, especially during a thunderstorm.
Now that we’re older, we speak when it is necessary, but not all the time.
Probably less than either of us cares to admit.
He’s a busy working husband and parent while I’m pretty much all over the map.
Though when we do talk, it’s a meaningful talk of mutual reflection. He provides me with information from four years down the line and I remind him that I’m listening by offering whatever small insights are on my mind.
I thought he was great then and I still do now. No matter the distance the bond between two brothers is strong and unwavering.
Basically what I am saying is I look forward to the next time we’re able to watch a little TV, crack a couple jokes, and just hang out—without any pressure—even if it means the carpet or floor, that’ll be enough.
If I could go back, all those years, and stand next to twelve year old me, would I have the courage and strength to tell that nervous boy watching all the other children, swimming, laughing, and running—playing shirts v.s. skins—to quit worrying and join in, that it doesn’t matter how chubby you feel, or how different you look, that as long as you love and accept yourself, no words from another can harm you, or would I just sit back and watch, still the observer unable to join the party?
It’s funny how something so simple as taking your shirt off to swim can be so detrimental to a young child’s self esteem and yet as adults we often forget what that was like or rather what external forces beyond our control led us to believe ourselves unworthy of such a simple, yet harrowing task.
As in childhood, so as in adulthood, what we allow to harm us will.
Commercials show us long, slender, sleek models who seem to effortlessly fit in to their surroundings while being rewarded with warm smiles and admiration for seeming perfect.
Television shows and movies give us well manicured, quintessential versions of ourselves that often seem more like science fiction than what actually is.
Billboard ads and magazines are placed conveniently to fill all our psyche with blemish-less detail to promote this false sense of unattainable beauty that even when met, there’s ultimately an even whiter teeth formula, or wax to whisk away our imperfection.
It’s a cycle that even before the mind has time to develop, stunts it’s growth and like a cavity begins to decay all sense of self worth.
How often have you judged yourself by your looks rather than how you feel?
For this average white guy, countless.
But it’s taken all those countless times to figure out that it doesn’t matter in the slightest, especially as a child who’s developing.
So would I tell that twelve year old me to take his shirt off and go swimming with the rest of the lot?
I don’t think there is a clear answer other than that instead of telling him what he should or shouldn’t do like all the rest of the world, I’d allow him the opportunity to listen to my story and decide for himself.
But I would say this. Chances are that boy or girl over there thinks there nose is too big or there ears are too small. Chances are that kid who cringes to put on his glasses everyday feels just like you do now, wondering what others will think of what makes him human.
Perhaps I’d reassure him that everybody has stretch marks, even the biggest, strongest athletes. Even his mother, and what could be more beautiful than sacrificing your physical form to grant another life?
But we all figure it out in our own time.
I know he did.
There’s a black cloud hanging over
the boys playing in the park
While they argue who is correct
mothers watch them from afar
Now there’s Billy screaming loudly
clawing at this boy named Mark
Who his mother she is absent
somewhere screaming in the dark.
It’s a Sunday what a fun day
boy let’s pass the ball around
He’s a shy son name is Ricky
staring at his father now
He is pitching like a Yankee
throwing hard with all his might
All the while there is Ricky
scared to death screaming inside.
There are blue jays singing robins
bugs and inchworms puffy clouds
On the playground there are children
swinging madly laughing loud
Cause it’s Sunday what a fun day
to be playing in the park
Except for Ricky, Billy’s mother
and Mark crying in the dark.
Now the children they all line up
ice cream bells ring all around
He’s a kind man I mean probably
he just smiles at the crowd
Screw-ball sundaes chocolate cookies
candy gleaming in his hand
For the children ask no questions
they just stand and stand and stand.
Now the mothers call the boys in
from the awful looking cloud
Billy’s mother reprimands him
as Mark’s mother has a cow
Oh your father she is shouting
Ricky hears her from afar
As his father whips a fast one
knocking Ricky to the ground.
There are stars now spinning circles
sending shivers down Mark’s spine
While his father who is furious
warns him hell boy you’ll be fine
As Mark stands and sees the dark cloud
fill with light ready to burst
Cats and dogs rain down around him
he thinks what’s he who’s on first.
So the moral of this story
is not what keeps you in line
It’s the people in the park who
I do not wish to define
They are people who like people
look quite normal in the park
While the sad suburban father’s
dingle dangle in the dark.
An idea
fosters questions.
And questions
raise ideas.
Picked like peaches,
pickled and peppered,
in sealed mason jars,
upon dusty wood shelf
buried in a garage that smells
of gasoline, and summer.
Where as kids playing nerf
we never raised such questions
not having any idea
of the hungry beast out there
waiting, sharpening its claws
using our parents as dental floss,
grooming its teeth, and ready
for the day
it too, could devour our peaches.
Some day
out of nowhere
your mood
will shift
from one hundred percent
to zero,
and you will feel sad
and you will feel weak
and you will feel vulnerable,
and that’s good
that’s natural
that’s life,
so get used to it,
it’s a beautiful thing
even when it hurts most.
There
is a
brief
window
as a kid
where
they
don’t know
about
overtime
morning commute
time and a half
cut hours
nor should they,
because
they’re kids,
kids who need to let the adults speak
you tell them all the time
so
when
the kid’s
all grown up
and wants nothing to do with you
don’t forget
all
those
times
the kid
just wanted to play.
Most of us have a hard time
having to express the way we feel inside
I
seem quite normal to the outside world
but really who would know?
We
don’t ask questions in public
for fear of stirring up conflict
You
could have said something helpful
but you stood politically correct.
Some like to engage in alcohol
others fuck strangers in bathroom stalls
She
to the world looked like an angel
something she’d never know.
We
don’t ask questions in public
for fear of stirring up conflict
He
could have given her confidence?
But sadly he knew the truth.
Most of us have a hard time
having to express the way we feel inside
I
am just a quarter in a wishing well
so here’s to wishing you well.
We
don’t want to listen to sadness speak
instead we wait for silence’s grief
You
could have the world at your feet
if you just put that bottle down.
It’s not a problem until it is
we’ve all got history I know this
He
made loads of money and hit his kids
but that’s just history now.
We
don’t ask questions in public
for fear of stirring up conflict
I’ve
been feeling good the past two days
I guess that’s a start anyhow.
With
a little bit
of boob
and
a little bit
of butt
girls become women
and
boys become men
until
children
make them
children again.
