Back before

Last week I found my old birth certificate and I was interested to see the part where my father's profession and place of employment were listed. "Kind of business or industry: Granite High School" and "Usual Occupation: School Teacher and Foot Ball Coach." He was 25.

Coincidentally it was also my 56th birthday last week. Yessir I'm 56 born in '56! I drove out to the place in Holladay where our house no longer stands (it was replaced years ago by a library) and looked at Mt. Olympus. It's the same view I remember as a little girl, lying on my back on a field of grass, staring east.

So my dad went on to have this singular career, and I won't lie. A lot of the time it was a full-on, wind-in-your-hair, hang-on-for-the-best-bitchin'-roller-coaster-ride-in-your-whole-damn-life blast. But I cherish the time before most of all. The time before when he was young and growing rows of tomatoes in the backyard and selling shoes at Sears on the weekends in addition to being a "School Teacher" and a "Foot Ball Coach," wondering where it would all go.

Spanking

Today while I was driving around, I listened to a radio preacher extoll the virtues of spanking. He said that children understand how much it grieves a parent to spank them and also that the very act of spanking causes a child's guilt to be literally and figuratively flushed from his system. The child feels refreshed and renewed after a spanking. And, of course, after spanking comes the hugging part! Which only strengthens the bond between a parent and child.

Okay. I'm not here to talk about parenting/disciplining styles, because I really am a) not an authority and b) I remain open to the idea that there's more than one way to do things. I also believe there's a lot to be said for the personalities involved, as well as the context. So see? This isn't an anti-spanking screed. Not at all!

I'm just trying to remember how I felt as a kid when I got spanked--which wasn't often, because my parents didn't hold with it much. In fact, I probably got smacked more by teachers than I did by my parents. I do remember, however, very specifically how it made me feel. It didn't humble me. It didn't make me see the error of my ways. It didn't make me love the spanker. Or Jesus.

It just made me feel this incredible seething, roiling resentment, and it also made me vow to keep doing the thing I did that got me into trouble in the first place.

So much for that preacher man's sermon.

Back to the Future

Today Geoff and I had tacos at Rubios. Sitting next to us was a VERY beautiful well-dressed young mother with her adorable toddler son. As they prepared to leave I pointed to me and Geoff and said to her, "This is you twenty years from now." And then because I didn't want to scare her unnecessarily, I said, "Only you'll probably have cuter clothes."

She laughed. And then she looked at me. I mean really REALLY looked at me as though I were her own crystal ball. And I, of course, looked at her, filled with remembrance of small boys past.

"It goes fast, doesn't it?" she said finally. Gently. And I nodded.

Later, on the drive home, I cried a little, thinking of all of the craziness sweet and sad she has in front of her and how, in a heartbeat, I would take it all on again.

Only with cuter clothes.

In Loving Memory of

Emma Rebecca Brown Thomas
April 23 1956-March 4 2004