Caustically Optimistic

seven, an immorality tale

Today at work we were trying to sell a car to a particularly cantankerous woman.  In order to ‘close’ the deal with her my boss said, “you need to sign up; he has seven kids to feed at home.”  The woman wasn’t an idiot and demanded to see (a) pictures of the kids, (b) know their names, and (c) a bit about them.  She thought she had caught us in a lie; it is much harder to catch me in a lie than that. 

In a bit of foreshadowing I noticed earlier that I have pictures of my friend’s kids on my phone and I need to clear that up and send them these pictures.  Luckily, I had not done this so I could produce my children. 

My children in reverse order, and order of appearance in the story are:

1. Mackenzie, actually the daughter of Chad and Ashley, is my youngest.  Her claim to fame is the time that I was interrogated about her age, name, and other vital statistics at Chic-fil-a.  This is a true story made funnier if you’re thinking that I am actually her father. 
2. Connor, actually the son of Chad Ashley, I told them that I think he is trying to kill Mackenzie because she’s a “bad baby,” and he doesn’t like her.  When they were horrified by this I said, “this goes for all my children: if they can survive Connor they can survive life.”  He reminds me of child three and I am afraid that he’ll be just like child three. 
3. Benjamin, actually the son of Jon and Melissa, is noted for vomiting all over my sister, Leah, at Easter.  We named him Benjamin because he is the youngest brother of Joseph from the Bible and we were hoping to stop at five. 
4. Kinley, who we call Alison, is actually the daughter of Doug and Valerie, and besides being the studious one and a talented athlete is the oldest girl.  We call her Alison because the name Kinley offended members of our family.  She has gotten me in the bad habit of calling children one through three, “the Neanderthals.”  I love that Kinley is the boss of her house. 
5. Justin, who was a student of mine, is the twin of child two.  Justin is the one I call the ‘bad twin,’ owing to the fact that while he really is a good child he isn’t as good as his brother and has my bad habit of letting things wander out of his mouth and it conversation.  Justin has actually told me that he was going to kill me in my sleep so I told them that when I put the kids to bed at night he hugs me and says, “I am going to kill you in your sleep.”  I added that a responsible parent would worry. 
6. Nathan, who was in a random yearbook picture on my phone with Justin, is also a former student.  I told them that Nathan was the good twin.  I told them that Nathan was my favorite and while it was inappropriate to have a favorite, he was the one I could depend on to do the right thing, snitch on the other kids, and tell me where the candy was hidden.  He’s the favorite because he gets my jokes, tells me when they aren’t funny, and has a sense of humor of his own.  He also reminds me of his mother – Cindy I totally sold you out as my wife.  Nathan is party to the cruelest thing I've ever done - which is convince (with his help) the student teacher that he had a crush on her.  
7. Seamus is actually my son so I had to throw him under the bus.  My story about Seamus was that he was the oldest and the one I was confident would stop Justin from killing actually killing me because it was the one thing I couldn’t depend on Nathan to do.  Twins are of one mind, one will, and are one force.  You cannot divide and conquer twins.  He prefers to be called Caleb.  My cousin Alison picked the name.   

I also claimed that my sister doesn’t like babysitting the children and says things like, “you wouldn’t miss one if I gave it to someone else,” and I claimed my mother said of Justin, “If I were you I’d start his day off with a spanking to make sure it got off on the right foot.” 

My new boss, who has never complimented me on anything ever and has openly expressed the little value I have in the organization, was impressed.  He had no idea that at the drop of a hat I could bend reality, spin fiction, and follow along with a story.  I have my uses and now I have seven children that I have to take care of.  

the unicycle stays home

My friend’s son had an assignment for school where he has to refute the arguments his parents have for him not being able to do something he would like to do. To do this assignment my friend has to come up with these reasons and email them to the teacher. Apparently, “I am your mother,” is not final enough for kids these days and it is certainly not enough for the teachers of the gifted.

My friend’s son wants to bring his unicycle on vacation with them and we were helping her come up with some arguments to use – since, “I’m your mother,” doesn’t work. We had some practical ones such as, “strapping the unicycle to the camper-van will create drag on the vehicle and hinder our fuel economy,” and, “what is someone steals your unicycle?” or “what happens if you get hurt and they don’t take our insurance at St. Boondocks Hospital?”

This all makes for good academics but the serious issue of the day and this argument goes unsaid, so I will say it and I will even write it for her as if it were me talking to my own children – who do not exist as a testament to God’s loving grace for all humanity:

Dear Seamus,

I know you had your heart set on bringing your unicycle on vacation this summer but there are several reasons that this will not happen. First and foremost, I am your father and I say, “no,” but since you are my son simple patriarchy won’t work on you so I will have to resort to cold, hard facts.

Sure, the unicycle will be a fun thing to ride around on after being in the camper van all day but the camper van will have six people in it and there just isn’t enough space in the camper van for it. Strapping it to the exterior opens it up to possible theft, vandalism, and road hazards but if none of that happens we at least know it will create drag on an already fuel-inefficient vehicle. Then we have to consider the implications of its loss or theft, what happens if you are injured outside of our insurance coverage area and that this is a family vacation designed for us to spend time together. Unicycles are built for one and not really a ‘togetherness’ activity.

The other thing to consider, Seamus, is that if we bring your unicycle then we have to let Kirsten bring her fire-batons and if Kirsten has her fire batons and you have your unicycle we’re at a loss as to why Isaac can’t bring his stilts. The three of you will have fun in the evening after a long day in the camper van and at night you’ll be good and tired out to sleep until the next day’s drive or activities – or so you think.

People will see you on your unicycle – strange enough on its own – and Kristen juggling fire and Isaac on stilts. What are people going to think? Will they think we’re eccentric, fun-loving people with unique hobbies? In a perfect world they would but we do not live in a perfect world and very different things would happen. People will see you and think, “Carney Folk,” and then it is all over for us.

At night while we’re sleeping; dreaming of barreling down the road at speeds exceeding the breaks and maneuverability of the van burning Iraq gas all the while on way to another national park or camp ground the villagers will gather. The villagers will gather with pitchforks and torches, scythes and truncheons – they will gather and then march out to our campsite and if we are lucky they will chase us out of town but if we are not – and again we are not lucky people – they will decide to purge the world of one more family of traveling freaks.

They're protecting their daughters from the wiles of strapping young lads like yourself -full of vigor and tales of adventure and their sons from the lure of the open road and traveling freakdom. They're protecting themselves from their wives getting the idea that being overweight and bearded in a commodity to be exploited or somehow attractive. Seamus, always be wary of stupid people in large groups - especially when those stupid people are voting, in an eating contest or angry at our family.

So you see, as much as you love the unicycle and as much as I love to see you physically active and happy I cannot let you bring the unicycle along. Even if we had the space, gas didn’t cost more than medical care or a trip in the space shuttle or we could all enjoy it together I have to say no. I cannot fight off a mob of angry village folk and neither can you. If I were younger or you were stronger or we lived in an open and affirming world this might be a different story, but we live in the real world where I am old, you’re scrawny and people are afraid of the unknown.

The unicycle stays home. I’m your father. I said so.

Love,
Dad

lies spritopias told me

This week in the History Seminar of Summer School we were talking about the use of Atomic Bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki, I repeated the joke told by a Japanese comedian that, “American parents told their children about walking uphill in deep snow barefoot to school. My mother told me when I was a little girl, ‘When I was your age the Americans dropped two atom bombs on us!’” and not only didn’t my students get this joke, natives of Mexico and Arizona tend to lack first hand knowledge of walking in snow shoed of not.

However, this reminded me of a story I read in the Washington Post about a book that is being written about the whoppers dads tell their children while visiting the Smithsonian. They contended that mothers do this as well but probably not as often, I would counter that the cynicism that extreme feminism has fostered toward men has made it possible to paint an entire group of people with one, ugly brush but even if it were true that mothers are fathers lie to their children in equal proportion it does not change the fact that our parents lie to us.

I have a hard time catching my parents in a lie so either they are exceptionally truthful or artful liars. I used to condescend that I would not lie to my children. That like my parents I would endeavor to tell my children the truth but the longer I teach the more I realize that I will indeed lie to my own children because I lie to my students all the time.