Author Archives: Radar

21 years ago today, a baby was born and died on the same day within mere moments. That baby was my son.  I became pregnant with my second child at the age of 38. As my doctor eventually explained to me, age had nothing to do with what occurred that ultimately ended the pregnancy. It could have happened to a girl in her 20s.  At the point of 19 weeks gestation, I was diagnosed with the condition known as “placentia abruptia” – meaning part of the placenta had pulled away from the uterine wall. I had suddenly started spotting and realized, of course, that something wasn’t right. I was very disturbed by what was happening for another reason though. Shortly before the spotting began, I remember being worried about money and how we were continuing to struggle in that regard. I was at work one day, and something related to that upset me. I can’t recall exactly what it was…a phone call, a major bill coming due and being late…whatever it was sent me into a tailspin. I remember going next door to my boss’s office, beginning to talk about my anxieties, and suddenly bursting into tears. I said out loud something to the effect of, “I shouldn’t be having this baby, we can’t afford another child.” My coworkers calmed me down and reassured me that everything would be okay, it would all work out. Soon after that was when the spotting began. My doctor admitted me to the hospital, determined what was wrong, and informed me that she was putting me on bed rest for the remainder of the pregnancy as soon as I went home after leaving the hospital. I was in there for a week, and the whole time my doctor was monitoring me and the baby. The entire time, the baby’s heartbeat was strong as can be. Towards the end of my stay, my doctor did tell me finally that there could be some neurological damage should the subsequent bed rest not go well. “What exactly do you mean by neurological damage?” I asked her. Dr. Jacqueline Wycheck may have been construed by some as having too harsh of a bedside manner. However, I found her frankness and blunt transmittal of information rather comforting in an odd sort of way. She was always going to tell it exactly like it was, not pretty things up, whether it was good or bad. Her answer to my question that day in the hospital was nothing short of that. “I’m talking about cerebral palsy,” she said. When she left my room, I burst into tears. I spoke to God and said, “If something is going to be wrong with this baby, please take it, because I don’t think I can handle something like that.”

I was released from the hospital the Tuesday of Thanksgiving week and sent home to be on bed rest for the remainder of the pregnancy. The baby’s heartbeat continued to be as strong as ever. Buddy was working the overnight shift at the Aquarium back then, so we arranged for our friend Marilyn to come over and stay with me and Andrew until Buddy would get home. It was supposed to be for the duration, but it never got that far. That very night, I began having what felt like contractions. We got in touch with Buddy at the Aquarium, he rushed home, and we went back to the hospital. Buddy’s Aunt Cindy and Uncle Mike came to pick up Andrew, who was just 2-1/2, and take him home with them. I was admitted to a room, hooked up to a fetal monitor, and went through actual labor pains. I don’t recall how long it lasted, but it wasn’t long before Dr. Wycheck came in and guided me through the labor and actual birth of our baby. It was a boy.

He was moving his arms and legs when he emerged, and he took an ever so brief breath, before he passed away. He was alive on this earth for mere moments. Born and died the same day.

Dr. Wycheck helped facilitate the remainder of the birth process. Another nurse had come in to wrap the baby in a blanket. She asked if we wanted to hold him. I shook my head vehemently – No! I just can’t. She took him out of the room. Buddy and I were both crying. I will be forever grateful to my husband for what he said next: “We need to hold him so that he knows who his mommy and daddy are and so that we can tell him that we love him.”

I relented, and Buddy went outside to ask the nurse to bring him back in. We both held our son, who was born at 19 weeks gestation and was probably just short of the length of my arm from the wrist to the elbow. His internal body may not have been developed enough to survive outside the womb, but externally – he was perfect. A perfectly formed human being. Tiny ears, nose, eyes, fingertips and nails…

Up until that point of my life, I had always considered myself to be “pro-choice” – not exactly FOR abortion, but someone who believed that it was up to the individual woman what she should be allowed to do with “her body”. Holding that tiny, albeit perfect human being in my arms eventually made me come to the realization that I was wrong about everything I had ever believed in.

It may not have happened in that exact moment. Truth be told, for awhile I believed that God was punishing me for the things I had said before he was born: my worries about money and the outright request that He take the baby from me, because if there’s something wrong with him, I won’t be able to handle it.

It took me awhile to realize that God doesn’t work that way. He had a much bigger plan in mind. My son was born so that I may live again.

Our second son’s earthly name was to be Alexander. The name on his birth and same day death certificate reads “Eleazar Alexander Blakesley” – Eleazar meaning “God has helped”.

God indeed had helped. Helped me to come to the irrefutable realization that abortion is murder. The undeniable destruction of a human life. I was once a person who naively believed that an embryo was “just a clump of cells”. That ending a pregnancy through the act of an abortion was nothing less than just removing something from your body that you didn’t want there anymore. But the argument for the right of a woman to be able to do what she wants with her own body has been twisted and manipulated to suit the narrative that there’s nothing murderous or evil about it. On the contrary, it is no argument at all. For the simple, unequivocal fact that “it’s not just HER body anymore.”

I firmly believe that my son was allowed to be born and die on the same day to save my immortal soul. And I know for a fact that abortion, regardless of when it happens, is murder. Nothing less. I know. Because I held that being in my arms. Not a clump of cells. A PERSON. And to destroy any life that God gives breath to is a sin that cannot stand. I will be eternally grateful to God for opening my eyes, and to Eleazar for being the catalyst to a life in eternity for me, where I will one day see him again and can tell him again how very much I love him.

So, this morning, I wake up and I’m in my bathroom all the way at the back of my house. I hear this huge sound that seems like it’s coming from my backyard. I go to my front door, open it, and there are two what look like “monster trucks” parked in front of my neighbor’s house across from the Airbnb. The 20/30-something kids that own these vehicles suddenly turn on the stereo in one of the trucks. LOUD. Of course, because – that is the order of the world these days. I hold open my screen door and stand on my porch, glaring in their direction, hoping that they’ll notice me. Nothing. One of the kids is spraying something on his truck around the front and the sides. The other truck owner is standing behind the first truck, asking his friend if his “speakers are new”. I can see the girlfriend of one of them walking on the sidewalk back and forth between the two trucks. Isn’t it bad enough that the sound of your truck turning on sounded like a jet engine in my backyard? What are you driving, a 747?  I finally can’t take it anymore, so I step down from my porch, stand right in front of my house, and yell in their direction, “Excuse me!”  They don’t hear me, of course, over the loudness of the music. I start slowly stepping in their direction, again yelling “Excuse me!”  They still don’t hear me and are totally oblivious. Kid #1 is still aimlessly spraying around his car. One last time: “EXCUSE ME!”  Finally, Kid #2 sees me and motions to his friend. Kid #1 turns around and I say, “What the hell are you doing?” Now I will preface the remainder of this with, yes – I probably could have handled it differently. Kid #1 starts trying to explain what exactly it is he is doing. Staying at Airbnb across the street, as I expected. “Leaving tomorrow.”  I thought, “Oh, and so, while you’re here, you think you can just do whatever the hell you want?”  I was not a happy camper already, as I haven’t been for awhile, for a multitude of reasons. Hence my tone of voice was elevated.  I tell Kid #1 “You need to have some respect for the people that live on this street.”  He comes back at me with a remark of how I need to respect him. That’s when I lost it. “I belong here – you don’t” I tell him. I point to the house they are parked in front of and the one next to it, telling them, “There’s an elderly lady who lives here, and there’s an elderly lady who lives over there.”  He continues to argue with me, telling me how I’m wrong. “You could have asked me nicely and I would have turned it down.”  Yeah. I could have done that. You’re right – I could have. But you know why I didn’t? Because I shouldn’t have to tell you to turn it down. You should use the little brain in your head that God gave you and have some respect for the fact that you are in a residential neighborhood on a Saturday morning and have a little respect for the people around you WHO LIVE HERE!!  All this time, girlfriend of Kid #1 is standing nearby with her hands on her hips, staring at me. Yes, honey – can I help you??  Kid #1 keeps talking about how I could have asked nicely and the lack of respect that I’m giving him. “Respect is earned – you don’t automatically get it” I tell him.  “There are people who work around here that may be trying to sleep on a Saturday morning.”  Girlfriend says, “I work too.”  Really, honey??  Oh, good for you, baby!!  I’m thinking – do you want a trophy or a sticker??  I offer up that I have stayed at many an Airbnb and have always respected the neighborhood I was in. You want to blast your new speakers and paint your trim while listening to your music blasting loud with the car doors open?  Go stay at a hotel on Bourbon Street. I finally go back in my house, and I can hear him still ranting to his friend about his “lack of respect” from me. I step out one more time and yell, “Keep it up, and I’ll call the cops next.”  A little overboard? Yeah. Probably. Girlfriend of Kid #1 is now standing at the door to the Airbnb and is yelling to me from across the street, “God bless” and “Have a nice day.” Yeah – you too, hon. You know, yesterday I read that I should strive to be a thermostat and not a thermometer. I can explain more about that in another post. Suffice it to say that this morning I was definitely NOT a thermostat.  I could have handled it differently and better. And I’m not making excuses for myself, but I have had 8 months of anxiety and uncertainty, like many people have, and it’s coming to a head. They finally get into their trucks and I watch them drive off. Maybe I scared them off, I’m thinking. Maybe they left to go stay somewhere else. We’re on good terms with the owner of the Airbnb. I’ll bring up to him what happened when I see him. He may approach me first if he gets feedback from these guests. If they wind up coming back and I see them, maybe I will try to apologize. If they chose to leave on their own accord, that’s on them. Although I would have been the reason, I’m sure.

I expect too much from people. My problem is that I want everyone to do what they’re SUPPOSED to do. Should I just accept that not everyone is going to always do the right thing and that certain situations will not go on forever? Yes, because that’s reality. But somewhere in my gut, I just cannot accept it. Just do what you’re supposed to do!! THINK!!

By the same token, I don’t expect very much from myself. It’s that thermometer/thermostat analogy again. I know what I have to do. I’m just not even trying. And I always let my emotions have control over me and get the better of me. God expects me to try harder. Yet, no matter how many times I fail, He still loves me. Poor, puny human that I am.

Walking is my favorite exercise. Actually, it’s really my ONLY exercise. These days, getting out of my house and walking in beautiful weather like New Orleans is having right now makes me happy. Our Mayor has demanded that everyone wear a mask all the time while outside, but if I am exercising my God-given right to freely walk around (no pun intended) I refuse to wear one.  It’s ridiculous.  If I am nowhere near any other people, I shouldn’t have to wear one.  I should have that choice. And in this situation, I have not and will not. The Mayor has actually even said that she will fine non-mask wearers $500. Well, first you have to catch me. She also said that if a person can’t pay the fine, they can work off the debt by picking up trash.  Honey, I already pick up trash off the streets on a  daily basis in this filthy city, so maybe you owe ME some money.  Second, your mandates are not laws, and I would fight you every step of the way because it’s unconstitutional at it’s most basic level. 

Yes, I refuse to wear a mask outside when I am just walking around enjoying my life. I choose to breathe in fresh air. My choice. Those of you who ARE wearing masks outside during every second of your day, even if you are social distanced from others, go ahead.  I think it’s ridiculous. Even more so are the people who are wearing masks while driving in their own cars. Okay, so maybe you’re an Uber driver like my husband. You have to wear one. But if you’re by yourself in your own car, who exactly are you protecting?

Outside the Superdome, there are signs on the ground instructing people to stay 6 feet apart.  Pray tell, who came up with the notion that 6 is the magic number?  Other signs outside the Dome list things you need to do so that “we can ENSURE your health and safety”.  WOW.  You have the power to ENSURE my health and safety?  WOW.  You must be a superhero or a god or something. How did I ever survive this long in life without you taking care of me?

Human beings are pompous asses thinking they can control Mother Nature.  They are snobbish in their assumption that they can stop this or any other virus in its tracks. Yes, there could be a vaccine, but even that is not 100% sure. 

You mask wearers who throw your used masks on the ground and in the street – you disgust me.  Are you the same people who claim they care about the environment?  Are against fossil fuels and fracking?  If you are, and you’re tossing that discarded mask on the street, let me tell you what you are:  you are a selfish pig who cares about nothing and no one other than yourself. But you have the audacity to preach to everyone else.

I really truly do enjoy my walks. I need to do it more. But I see so much these days that makes me shake my head in confusion and despair. It strikes me to my core that so many people have followed everything they’ve been told to do without question. It makes me scared for the future of our country. What has happened to us as freedom-loving Americans? Yes, we should do whatever we can within whatever power we might have to take care of ourselves and others. But freedom also means every individual has the right to make their own decisions so long as you are truly not hurting someone else. But complete and utter safety is an illusion. It doesn’t exist. It never will. But don’t tell me that I don’t care about other people just because I choose to make my own decisions about my own personal health. And while enjoying my life, liberty, and pursuit of happiness. Last time I checked, this was still a free country. I hope and pray it stays that way.

“Better safe than sorry” – that’s a phrase I’ve heard all my life. It used to mean something. It meant well, if you can take yourself out of a potentially dangerous situation, then do so, because it’s better to be safe. Nowadays that phrase means something else I fear. Even though we used that phrase all the time, we knew that life was not inherently safe. Never was. Never will be.  If you can avoid something and want to avoid something that you think is unsafe, then you have every right to do so to protect yourself. But know that just because you are doing that doesn’t mean that you are safe for all time. Because you’re not. By the same token, you should not be allowed to tell people not to do something just because you are afraid to do it. If you want to live your life in constant fear and paranoia and lock yourself up in your house until life is “safe” then go ahead. But don’t tell me that I have to. I am not stupid. I know what’s going on. Do what you feel you need to do to “feel safe” but do not force me to do what YOU think I should do, just because you bought into the hype and the lies. Again, I’m not stupid. I know what’s going on. Protect yourself the way you see fit, protect the elderly and the vulnerable. But LET THE REST OF US LIVE OUR LIVES!  It is freedom at its most basic form. People have fought wars and fled their homelands to attain that freedom. The saddest part of this alleged “safety” is that it is filled with so many holes and contradictions and lack of common sense that people have to be unbelievably mindless to believe it. But they are taking what they are being spoon fed with all the trust and untouched innocence of a child. The majority of the American public, I fear, is blindly following along and not questioning anything. Some of us are. And we are being looked upon as selfish, crazy, conspiracy theorists. And being told that our beliefs are political and that we have absolutely no concern for our fellow human beings. And if you think things are bad now, they’re only going to get worse if our country heads in the wrong direction. If you are that scared, why don’t you build yourself a big glass box to live in for the rest of your life?  I want my freedom. I want my right to choose how I handle my health and my life. Want to talk about social distancing? If you don’t want me to breathe on you, then stay the hell away from me. My gloves are coming off. I’ve been so done with this crap for months now. If you don’t like what I’m saying – or posting on social media – I have a newsflash for you:  YOU DON’T HAVE TO READ IT!  America is about freedom, not control. If you want the kind of country where your every waking moment is handled by someone else, be careful what you wish for – you just might get it.

It’s been a rough couple of weeks…

12 days since my last blog post? Yeah, well – I’ve been dealing with A LOT of stress and anxiety. Still am.

On Wednesday, October 29th New Orleans and its surrounding areas took a direct hit from a Category 2 hurricane known as Zeta. There were so many storms this season that they ran out of normal names and had to move to the Greek alphabet.

Less than a week later came the 2020 Presidential election. And the winner is still yet to be decided. Yes – that is the truth.

Regardless of how this turns out, our election process will forever be tainted from this point forward. That makes me sad, not just for myself, but for future generations.

And it makes me angry. Angry that what is still – as of this writing – the greatest country in the world, has been reduced to this moment in time. The potential stealing of an election.

What makes me livid is the same people who for the past 4 years have been downright nasty with name-calling, along with verbal and sometimes physical abuse, are now calling for “unity”. The same people who basically applauded violent civil unrest because “people are fed-up and angry” are now calling for “calm”.

Let me tell you something right now: your blatant hypocrisy makes me want to puke. You voted for someone – and it could have been ANYONE, it really didn’t matter – whose policies could change America forever, solely because you have pure, unadulterated hatred for a man who never did anything personal against you. And you call yourself an American.

I don’t hate your candidate. Never have. I hate his policies that could forever alter the very fabric of everything this country stands for. But you cast your vote for one reason and one reason only: because you despise the other man with your whole heart and soul and mind. You don’t care about this country. You are concerned about your own self-interest. And that you “win” because you didn’t get your way the first time.

And you can talk until the cows come home about how you DO care, and that you care about ALL people and not just some, like WE do. I’m sure you’ve got your belief in policies, but that’s not what you voted for. You voted to “get the bad man out”. You can spin it any way you’d like. But that is the truth. And how very sad that is for you.

God alone is in control, and I continue to pray until the ultimate outcome is revealed that He will have His hand on whatever happens. Sometimes, very bad things have to occur in order for some people to truly understand what they have perpetrated. And God allows this. Not because He doesn’t love us. But because He wants us to come back to Him and trust that He is doing all He can for the betterment of His people as a whole. Sometimes, though, He removes His hand because He cannot continue to support when all we do is turn Him away.

I believe He had His hand in what occurred politically 4 years ago. I recently was doing some organizing and purging, and I ran across some newspapers that I had kept – one of which was from the January 2017 inauguration. The headline read “America First”. How can anyone in their right mind be against that? The man who campaigned on that did EVERYTHING that he said he was going to do. Who would not want all the good that has been accomplished during the past 4 years to continue?

Do you love your country? Are you proud to be an American? Are you asking for unity and calm now only because you think you finally got your way? I hope you get exactly what you ask for. Sometimes God says no because He has something better in mind. Sometimes God says yes because He wants you to realize exactly what it is that you are asking for.

Remember what your mom used to say to you? “Be careful what you ask for. You just might get it.” And that’s not a threat. That’s just the truth. May God have mercy on all of us. And may God bless America.

You know why? Because a highly intelligent, competent, intellectual, successful and capable woman has reached the apex of her accomplishments. Every woman who wants to empower her fellow womankind should be applauding the auspicious occasion that occurred today: the confirmation and swearing in of Judge Amy Coney Barrett as the 5th woman to become a Supreme Court Justice. What is sad and disparaging is that the woman is being torn down instead of built up, the event disallowed instead of legitimized. If you think for one moment that this accomplished woman is not going to follow the rule of law, as well as the Constitution, you need to step back and use your critical thinking skills. If you view this appointment and confirmation as an underhanded, illegitimate attempt to purposefully erode rights, I truly feel sorry for you. Partisanship exists in some respects on both sides of the aisle. Deranged, doomsday thinking does no one any good, least of all the person who is choosing to believe that the world is literally coming to an end. Amy Coney Barrett has said time and time again that she will do nothing but follow the rule of law. She is part of a group of 9 justices who have sworn to do so. She doesn’t have a personal agenda against anyone. She is a professional, and she has not come this far in her career by being anything but that.

“Dark Winter”

“We’re learning to die with it.”

I refuse to look into my future with despair.

I refuse to live in fear.

I am cautious. But I am not paranoid.

Life is not inherently safe. It never has been. What makes you think it is now, all of a sudden?  It never will be. If you are thinking, believing, or waiting for it to be completely safe, you are going to be waiting for the rest of your life.

I do not want to stay locked up and restricted for the rest of my life.

I want life to go back to normal. The REAL normal. Because, trust me – this…ain’t…it.

I want freedom. Freedom to choose what I want to do. Freedom to make my own decisions.

If you are scared, stay home.

If you are at risk health wise, by all means protect yourself.

But do not force me to do the same.

Quarantine is for the sick – not the healthy.

And no – this is not a political statement.

And yes – I do care about others.

And no – I am not “literally killing people” if I choose not to wear a mask.

I have hope for the future. And that hope comes not from any man, but from the Lord.

My hope may have wavered a few times in the past 7 months. But I refuse to give up on it completely.

I refuse to be a victim. I refuse to accept the doom and gloom agenda. I look forward to the future and recovery and better, normal days ahead with faith, hope, and positive thoughts.

I have been voting since I was 18 years old. I do not need reminders. I do not need instructions. It’s kinda like – oh, I don’t know…washing your hands. I don’t need reminders and instructions on that either. I’m also not going to announce to the world that I have voted, nor do I need a pat on the back for doing so. Voting just comes naturally to me. If this was my first time, I guess maybe I could use the help…Still – I don’t recall all the hullabaloo back when I did vote for the first time. I just went and did it. It’s really not that difficult. What I do know is, I was raised to vote on the issues and not based on emotion. And I can honestly say I never have. Both sides are saying that this is the most important election of our time and to vote like your life and livelihood depends on it. I agree – it does. And not for the reasons some of you might think. If you are voting for the first time – or even if it’s not your first time: Vote on the issues. Pay attention to everything that is happening around you. Ask questions. THINK. And for the love of God and everything that is holy and right and true – make your decision on actual, real information. And not because of something like pure, unadulterated hate or because you believe you didn’t get your way in the past. Use your intelligence that God gave you. And remember – early voting is great and all, but it doesn’t mean your vote counts more than once or that you get to vote again.

This is not the first time this has happened in the past 7 months. A multitude of emotions are suddenly rushing over me today. ANXIETY. That says it ALL. But more than just that one word. I’m feeling not only incredibly anxious, but also: scared, fearful, uncertain, worried, concerned, uneasy, nervous, and VERY agitated. It helps to admit these things on paper, and I am still learning how to give over these negative emotions to the Lord. It is SO hard for me to let go of whatever control I think I have. The truth is, I have none about what is happening around me. Whatever is going to happen is going to happen. The worst thing anyone can say to me is, “Well, that’s just the way it is.” The eternal idealist inside me cannot and refuses to accept that. I just want everything to be right, and good, and true, and safe, and peaceful. The older I get, the more my peace of mind and the sometime illusion of peace around me is extremely important to me. Sometimes more important than anything else. Because if I have peace, I am content, and I can do anything. But there are things happening today in my world that are disturbing my inner peace. Nothing terrible. Just something that I don’t have any control over. Add that to whatever else is in my head that is making me agitated today, and the result is everything I mentioned above. Of course, it doesn’t help that the world as a whole is not a confident, unwavering, restful place these days. For the most part, I am keeping up my mantra of “one day at a time”. I’ve gotten better at not worrying so much, particularly about something like money. Every night before I fall asleep, I talk to God. Mostly, I thank Him for my family, and our health, and for everything we have that He has given us. But I talk to Him too about the things that are affecting me and the world and tell Him how I know that He is the only one who can fix everything. He knows my heart, so I don’t need to say all these things out loud. But I need to, and He needs me to. He needs to hear my thanks and praise. I apologize to Him when I have disappointed Him as His child, which is almost on a daily basis. I want nothing more than God’s peace. That peace “which surpasses all understanding”. I want that SO badly. I pray for it every day. Recently, when my mother told me how the state of the world is affecting her emotionally, I told her, “Say the Serenity Prayer.” She was sure of parts of it, but not all, so we went over it a couple of times together. She knows it now. And in one of our subsequent phone calls, when I was feeling like I’m feeling today, she gave me back my own piece of advice. “Say the Serenity Prayer” she told me. I could hear her smile through the phone. I chuckled and said, “Aha, okay – touche’ Mom.” I already know how to make myself feel better by putting my thoughts down on paper. What I need to get better at is turning to God at moments like this. He is there for me, no matter what is going on in my life. His love never fails. His love is steadfast and true, and He is always there for me. I can trust Him above all else. He will never leave me or forsake me. He “knows the plans He has for me. Plans to prosper me and not harm me. Plans to give me hope and a future”. And you know what? HE’S THERE FOR YOU TOO. Look for Him. Search for Him. Seek His face. Listen for His voice. You, like me, are His child. And He loves you. Turn to Him in times of goodness and in times of strife. His presence and His love are everlasting. I’m sharing my experience with Him. But I need to continue to believe as well. I don’t stop believing, but sometimes I falter. And He is always there to pick me up. He can and will be for you too.

You know, every generation gets to the point where they become old enough to start questioning the generations that are coming up after them. Their views, their beliefs, the way they do things, their hair, their clothing, their music…My parents’ generation, for example, came of age in the 1940s and listened to the music of the big band era and singers like Frank Sinatra. When Rock and Roll came around in the 1950s, they were getting married and having kids, so naturally their priorities were changing. Plus the new music was something that no one had ever heard before, and it had the kids dancing and acting in a way they’d never seen before. Then came the 1960s, which introduced the psychedelic era of music, along with protests about racial unrest and the anti-Vietnam war movement. The kids of the 50s, who were now coming to their age of consciousness in the 60s, were responding very differently to social issues than their parents had. They were paying attention to the world around them and finding voices their parents never had. Or – that they just didn’t know how to use. Back in the days immediately following the end of World War 2, America was experiencing a boom in prosperity the likes of which had pretty much never been seen before. It was the world of Father Knows Best and Leave it to Beaver, and kids didn’t buck authority, let alone argue or disagree with their parents. Rock and Roll music, for instance, brought out feelings of euphoria and the opportunity for kids to totally let go while having fun. Parents like mine didn’t know what to think. Kids started dressing differently and wearing their hair differently. It was their way of “rebelling” against their parents’ generation and everything that they stood for. Honestly, this is the way it’s supposed to be. Kids have always questioned their parents and previous generations – what they believed and how they did things. It’s part of growing up – and growing into – the person you ultimately become. Always questioning, always searching – but also, if you do it “right” – also always ever-changing and growing. There are always different ways of doing things, and part of the rebellion is the experimentation. Testing things out to see if there’s a better way. But hopefully also coming to a place where you can discuss your differences with the older generation and have meaningful conversations to try and maybe come to a mutual understanding. That takes maturity, and age doesn’t always necessarily translate into maturity. I am at the age now (well, a little bit past it actually) where I am looking at the generations behind me – particularly the one that is college age and questioning the world around them – and I don’t understand a great majority of the way they think. In some cases, the way I feel they DON’T think – don’t use their brains for critical thinking, but rather go along with everything they see and hear and are told – and they don’t question. They just regurgitate the same things they are spoon-fed, over and over again. I think to myself, “Yeah – I was young and stupid once too.” What I don’t like is that I feel like I am seeing a total disregard for an alternate way of thinking and no attempt to even try and see the other side. I see petulance and sarcasm and degradation and a know-it-all attitude. And I want to say, “Okay, so you think you have all the answers over me, even though I have experienced life more than you have.” I suppose maybe I had that attitude too when I was that age. The thing is, regardless of how I felt and what I thought at that age, I still believe that I was never disrespectful. I see a lot of that too. I didn’t go to college, but yet have college-age kids and those who are just past that stage of their lives talking to me like I’m an idiot. The phrase “Okay, Boomer” says it all. I had the very recent experience of having a young person preach to me about a current event but didn’t want to hear my side of it. I might not have that college degree hanging on my wall, but I have common sense. And isn’t it funny how you could talk to me like I don’t know anything, and yet when you couldn’t figure out how to do something, you had to “humble yourself down to my level” to ask for my help with something. “Okay, Boomer – Wow, you really DO know something that I don’t know, and I can actually LEARN from you!” Yes, that’s correct – I am a Baby Boomer, and damn proud of it too. And in some cases, I will wipe the floor with your smug, cocky, know-it-all little ass. We can both actually learn from each other, but it comes with give and take. But please – lose the sarcasm and the self-righteous attitude. Open up your eyes and ears. Don’t think that everything you see is all there is. Think for yourself. Question EVERYTHING. But also remember: I am not your mommy and daddy who never told you NO and gave you everything you wanted because they didn’t want to hurt your feelings. When you get out into the real world, that way of thinking will color everything you do and say – and you are going to find out that you will not always be right. None of us are. But learn to have a conversation with the older generation without looking down on them. They’re not as stupid as you might think.