Live 8 in London.
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I 'm sitting at Cafe Espresso in the Anchorage Building in San Francisco. The cafe mochas here are first rate. They serve them in a bolo glass with fresh whipped cream and they have just the right amount of Ghirardelli chocolate and the correct amount and strength of espresso all for four bucks. That may sound a little steep but remember you are in the heart of Fishermans Wharf.
Although the coffee here is excellent; the name of this establishment is not. Naming your cafe "Cafe Espresso" is like naming a grocery store, "Store Grocery." Perhaps the owner spent too much time thinking about his menu what type of glass to serve his drinks in. I imagine that he has a wife that he refers to as "wife," and a son, whom he and his wife call either "son" or "boy," which kind of reminds me of those old Tarzan movies.
Tarzan used the same system for naming; "Come here boy!" he would yell, and Boy would come. There are still a few Tarzans around.
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I have sired two boys. After last week's Live 8 Concerts they had lots of questions about Africa. We talked about the current situation Africa and how over 9,000 Africans die daily from starvation, malaria and AIDS.
The older one proudly displays his White "One" Band and even tried to get some to distribute at his school. A white band is not much, unless you are informed.
As an aspiring musician he wondered why Bono, a rock star, would be so concerned about Africa.
I told him it was a story at least 20 years old. We talked then I slapped in U2's film Rattle and Hum into the VCR and played him a couple of relevant songs from 1988.
Later he wanted me to explain Aparthied to him. It's a tough one to explain.
Two days later, I observed Conner, the elder, slashing away on his new Les Paul and inciting his younger brother Ian to play the crowd.
"Ian, you be the crowd," he said. "When I say APART - TIDES I want you to start yelling and go crazy, okay?"
"Okay," agreed the humble one.
Conner hit pretty close to the three-chord formula, paused, and then yelled "APART -TIDES!"
And of course, young Ian went crazy, yelling his fool head off. (Don't laugh. You did the same damn thing at the last concert you went to.)
It's hard ro comprehend or explain how insane the doctrine and practice of apartheid was.
The lesson is clear; every time we hear any word that supports or upholds racism, we should - all of us - yell, scream and go crazy until the damn thing stops and we can fall silent in thanks to God and man for its abolition.
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first in a five part series
5 comments:
very well written maugham. i look forward to the day when i have children who begin to ask good questions. i am scared to death of trying to answer those questions in a meaningful and constructive way . . . *mutters to herself "i will not be my mother . . . i will not be my mother . . ."*
Tabitha-
In my limitd experience it is about letting them (as you are able and they can access) into your own journey. Where you do not know or it seems dumb to a kid, you just acknowledge it (like why does it matter what color their skin is?) You shrug, say it doesn;t matter to you and you don't get it either.
As for not being your mother, I doubt that'll happen. You seem pretty unrepressed and open (not that I know anything about your mother, but that is often the case). That's all they need because the little ones have great BS indicators. So we affirm their feelings and perceptions even if not comfy. They prefer that. They learn to trust their own growing perception.
Thanks for the post. I really like your site. I read it everyday.
Keep the warpaint on.
The wisdom and understanding of kids is amazing. I think your idea is fabulous! Just let us know when you want us to scream...
i guess i did this to a degree with my younger sisters (less than 10 years old). they came to visit me from their little sheltered bubble of suburbia to where i live in portland. we were walking to a local coffeehouse and these morons drove by in a pickup truck and one of them had his ass hanging out the window (in front of small children!!!).
my youngest sister (i think she was barely 7 at the time) turned to me and asked, "why did he stick his bottom out at us?" i don't know if she'd ever seen a man's naked butt like that before (i hope not). so, i answered her as best i could, i said "he was probably dared to do it by his friends or he was drunk or both."
"oh," she said.
my mother was with us. she just pursed her lips in dissapproval.
i think they drove by again.
Children trust honesty, especially if delivered with kindness. Because they already know. Where most of uis as adults got "off" was when we were kids were were told what we were supposed to feel and believe instead of the adults being honest with us.
Had they been, we would learn to trust those perception and not have to fight for years to get back to that.
They meant well (the parents) or they did what they were taught and passed it on.
We do not have to pass it on.
Thanks Tabitha for your comments as always.
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