Teenagers....
We've all been teenagers. We all have our stories about our teenage years. Our embarrassments, our shining moments. Our realizations. Our setbacks.
Shit. I could name this post "Prom Night" and maybe 10 of you will comment about your memories of it, maybe even provide funny links to photos of garish dresses and big hair - both sexes - and mullets. Some of you could share stories of limos gone wrong and heartaches where the girl you wanted to ask made you take her best friend instead.
I was relating to my friends tonight a true story about one Halloween back when I was a teen. I was old enough to no longer want to go out trick or treating but went to a party with my friends, and...yeah, I ended up making out with a cute guy in my Freshman year. But I got home by 9:30 and my older sister was home too and we realized that our mother was tired of answering the door and handing out candy so my sister and I took over that responsibility.
My sister and I had cystic acne at the time. We were both being treated by a dermatologist and we were both very - painfully - aware of our looks. We were also only three years apart and very much aware of each others' buttons to push and we knew how to hurt one another in our scrambling effort to best one another in our mother's eyes.
So here we are after 10 PM, thinking no kids would be knocking on our door because all the little fairies and princesses and devils and skeletons had long since been paraded around by their proud parents with cameras in hand....and there's a knock at our door.
So we both answer it.
And there's a group of teens at the door, and none of them have even bothered to dress up except to put some black paint streaks here and there on their faces, and perhaps wear Grandpa's old blazer in order to look like a bum, and they are holding pillow cases only one-quarter filled with candy.
And one of them says to my sister and I, "Oh my God! Haven't you heard of SOAP???"
And another says, "Jesus, wash your faces.....or is this free pepperoni pizza night?"
And they all laugh.
I didn't know how to react. I just cried instinctively.
My sister knew how to react, though. She slammed the door in their faces, and then hugged me close.
I had my first boyfriend shortly thereafter, and yeah, he wanted to get in my pants even though I was a pizza-faced kid with zits. He told me I was wonderful, and I believed him. During the heavy petting that ensued, lying on my bedspread in my room while my mother wasn't home, I learned that my body reacted just as well as any other teenaged girl's body would, regardless of whether I had acne or had the face of an angel.
But I didn't put out.
I had my pride.
I wanted my first time to be special, and to mean something. I didn't want it to be an experiment and I didn't want it to be something I'd regret later.
My mother had tried selling Avon for a while, and I can remember sampling all of her make-up samples when she wasn't home, and teasing my hair and using her Aqua Net hairspray and then staring at myself in the mirror, thinking that I looked like an adult. Not just an adult, though, but a pretty one. I wanted to have someone take my picture, then, so that they could see the potential that I saw, in myself....the shape of my eyes, the cut of my jaw, the way my hair fell down so wantonly around my face and made me look mysterious.
The way that I looked like a woman-child, my acne all covered up and my eyes looking like Nancy Sinatra's with all that eye-liner. The doe caught in the headlights look. The lips parted ever so slightly.
When I was lying on top of my bedspread with that teenaged boy in my bedroom and he wanted to go all the way, I wanted him to see me that way, but I said no because I knew he didn't. And I wanted to wait until I felt comfortable in my own skin and could be comfortable with the man I'd eventually be with.
If you're thinking this is a post about Halloween or Prom Night, well....it isn't.
It's a post about teenagers and their need to grow up while dealing with the need to experiment and feel comfortable within their own skin and yet feel pretty (or handsome) all at the same time. It takes them a while. It took me nigh on 30 years, myself, heh.
Had I been a beautiful girl with perfect skin and a mother who wanted to get me on film, I probably wouldn't have felt much differently, lying on that bed with that boy in high school. And had I been on a casting couch for a film, with an older director, I probably still wouldn't have felt much differently.
I would've wanted it on my terms, when I felt that it was my time, my way, and with no regrets.
Teenagers think they know everything, well before their time. But they also know they have time.
No matter who they are with.
And if they aren't given that time....if their goals and dreams and wishes and hopes are thwarted by an adult who doesn't agree with their need for time, well.....pity the fool who fucks with them.
Shit. I could name this post "Prom Night" and maybe 10 of you will comment about your memories of it, maybe even provide funny links to photos of garish dresses and big hair - both sexes - and mullets. Some of you could share stories of limos gone wrong and heartaches where the girl you wanted to ask made you take her best friend instead.
I was relating to my friends tonight a true story about one Halloween back when I was a teen. I was old enough to no longer want to go out trick or treating but went to a party with my friends, and...yeah, I ended up making out with a cute guy in my Freshman year. But I got home by 9:30 and my older sister was home too and we realized that our mother was tired of answering the door and handing out candy so my sister and I took over that responsibility.
My sister and I had cystic acne at the time. We were both being treated by a dermatologist and we were both very - painfully - aware of our looks. We were also only three years apart and very much aware of each others' buttons to push and we knew how to hurt one another in our scrambling effort to best one another in our mother's eyes.
So here we are after 10 PM, thinking no kids would be knocking on our door because all the little fairies and princesses and devils and skeletons had long since been paraded around by their proud parents with cameras in hand....and there's a knock at our door.
So we both answer it.
And there's a group of teens at the door, and none of them have even bothered to dress up except to put some black paint streaks here and there on their faces, and perhaps wear Grandpa's old blazer in order to look like a bum, and they are holding pillow cases only one-quarter filled with candy.
And one of them says to my sister and I, "Oh my God! Haven't you heard of SOAP???"
And another says, "Jesus, wash your faces.....or is this free pepperoni pizza night?"
And they all laugh.
I didn't know how to react. I just cried instinctively.
My sister knew how to react, though. She slammed the door in their faces, and then hugged me close.
I had my first boyfriend shortly thereafter, and yeah, he wanted to get in my pants even though I was a pizza-faced kid with zits. He told me I was wonderful, and I believed him. During the heavy petting that ensued, lying on my bedspread in my room while my mother wasn't home, I learned that my body reacted just as well as any other teenaged girl's body would, regardless of whether I had acne or had the face of an angel.
But I didn't put out.
I had my pride.
I wanted my first time to be special, and to mean something. I didn't want it to be an experiment and I didn't want it to be something I'd regret later.
My mother had tried selling Avon for a while, and I can remember sampling all of her make-up samples when she wasn't home, and teasing my hair and using her Aqua Net hairspray and then staring at myself in the mirror, thinking that I looked like an adult. Not just an adult, though, but a pretty one. I wanted to have someone take my picture, then, so that they could see the potential that I saw, in myself....the shape of my eyes, the cut of my jaw, the way my hair fell down so wantonly around my face and made me look mysterious.
The way that I looked like a woman-child, my acne all covered up and my eyes looking like Nancy Sinatra's with all that eye-liner. The doe caught in the headlights look. The lips parted ever so slightly.
When I was lying on top of my bedspread with that teenaged boy in my bedroom and he wanted to go all the way, I wanted him to see me that way, but I said no because I knew he didn't. And I wanted to wait until I felt comfortable in my own skin and could be comfortable with the man I'd eventually be with.
If you're thinking this is a post about Halloween or Prom Night, well....it isn't.
It's a post about teenagers and their need to grow up while dealing with the need to experiment and feel comfortable within their own skin and yet feel pretty (or handsome) all at the same time. It takes them a while. It took me nigh on 30 years, myself, heh.
Had I been a beautiful girl with perfect skin and a mother who wanted to get me on film, I probably wouldn't have felt much differently, lying on that bed with that boy in high school. And had I been on a casting couch for a film, with an older director, I probably still wouldn't have felt much differently.
I would've wanted it on my terms, when I felt that it was my time, my way, and with no regrets.
Teenagers think they know everything, well before their time. But they also know they have time.
No matter who they are with.
And if they aren't given that time....if their goals and dreams and wishes and hopes are thwarted by an adult who doesn't agree with their need for time, well.....pity the fool who fucks with them.
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I'll have things to say on this, Lis, but I need to have a bit of time (say...a good night's sleep) first.
October 5, 2009 2:23 AM | Reply | Permalink
A good night's sleep is always best, yes.
October 5, 2009 2:31 AM | Reply | Permalink
Well, the more scientists, (real ones) look into teenagers, the more interesting it gets:
http://www.pbs.org/wgbh/pages/frontline/shows/teenbrain/
Although they can have moments of lucidity and even some of seeming brilliance, the truth is, their brains are still forming.
I suppose some might just see their outsides as indicators of maturity, but anyone that has spent time with a teenager knows it ain't so.
It takes a deeper look. That is why it is important to protect them.
What we remember from our own teen years no doubt pales in comparison to what we forget.
October 5, 2009 8:10 AM | Reply | Permalink
One of the most crucial facets of the development is that it is only in the teenage years that the ability of abstract thought really comes into play. Until then things like love justice and religion are understood only concrete level.
So teenagers are suddenly dealing with this whole new way of understanding, not just more facts and figures. A metaphor suddenly is more powerful. God is no longer just a big man in the sky.
Most of human history, the concept of "teenagers" really didn't exist. It was adulthood. But probably so many of our problems, from whacked family dynamics to screwed up politics, is to some degree a result that we had too many adults running around that were not ready to be adults.
In a pre-language world, fourteen was an adult. With language, it takes many years to adjust to this new world that emerge with abstract thought, and the emotions that now must include these new depths. The wounds suffered from the slings and arrows of words can go even deeper than they did as a child. I lost my father when I was 12 and studies have shown that it is this eleven - thirteen year old age group that has hardest time coming through the grieving process in a healthy way for the very reason that at that time the world, the universe, God and death, and the meaning of life have suddenly become fundamentally different.
October 5, 2009 10:07 AM | Reply | Permalink
Thank you, acamus, for putting into words in one comment what I was trying to get at in one long post.
October 5, 2009 10:26 AM | Reply | Permalink
But my post lacks, for lack of better phrase, the "human element." One can talk on and on about neuron connection and development of frontal lobes in association with pre-cortex...etc. and lose how it really translates into life.
It is in those moments, standing in all those doorways suffering the slings and arrows from those with the black streaks of paint here and there, etc., where life is. And I think we still have far to go as we adults try to figure out in this modern world how can help (and when we need to get out of the way) our children transition from childhood into adulthood. In part because we forget what it is really like to be thirteen or fourteen or fifteen and the world comes at us and we try to be adults, and we still want to be a kid. And there are no easy answers, if there are "answers" at all.
October 5, 2009 11:03 AM | Reply | Permalink
It was far more human than others I have seen.
October 5, 2009 11:16 AM | Reply | Permalink
I subscibe to the latter, and muddle as best I can.
One thing I read long ago that has helped me a bit, is T. Berry Brazelton's contention that a 2-year-olds struggle for autonomy was matched only by that of a teen. They want so much to make 'big people' decisions.
I remember my own struggles in that I wanted to be self-sufficient by the time I was 18. That has been a guiding principle for much of my life, self-sufficiency.
In a way, brains may not be formed, but philosophies may be.
October 5, 2009 9:46 PM | Reply | Permalink
Amazing link, Bwak. I could spend a week reading all of this. Thanks!
October 5, 2009 10:23 AM | Reply | Permalink
Not all teenagers are the same. Some are wise beyond their years, others not.
People mature at different rates.
Some people die without fully maturing.
Not everyone has the same values, not everyone has the same outlook.
There is a need to protect the young... but one should not confuse that protection with a sense of superior knowledge.
I've known teenagers who know a lot more about the world than many I've seen post here at TPM.
You wouldn't compare your experience to that of a child of the ghetto, LisB... and you shouldn't presume to know what's going on in other people's heads as well. I'm betting you didn't have sex at age 12 and had already experimented with quaaludes. None of this justifies anyone's actions, of course, but it's clear you have no special insights into what was going on in Samantha Grailey's head. That's the central fallacy of many here at TPM.
Most telling: she would prefer the whole episode to be over. Now, how are people so very much smarter than her?
As I mentioned elsewhere: there is a lot of gray in this case.
I am reminded of another case with gray: Ted Kennedy and Mary Jo Kopechne. There a girl died and quite possibly needlessly. And yet, the very same people who are up for blood lust about Polanski, were very forgiving of Ted Kennedy.
Bottom line: with money and power, you can fight something. There is a big difference between the cases, however. There is stacking evidence that Polanski wasn't treated fairly by our legal system -- and you will find plenty of people recognizing that fact.
I have no issues with people taking a harsh view of Polanski, so long as it's reasoned and consistently dealt with on principled values. In the other thread, some indicated that if the scenario had occurred in Spain (where the age of consent is 13), they would have still wanted "justice" for Polanski. Well, that means they don't believe in the rule of law. This is essentially no different than the teabaggers: act emotionally, without reason. Cokie Roberts did it this morning and was chided by a more mindful panelist who pointed out the issues of the abuse of the prosecution.
The idea of trying "to do what is right" is exactly what was behind the extermination of the Native American culture -- we needed to give them the "superior" beliefs of Christianity.
That's why I'm suspicious of when someone makes that type of argument. It's always the starting point of some of the most heinous mob crimes in history.
October 5, 2009 3:36 AM | Reply | Permalink
Planning on maturing any time in our lifetimes?
October 5, 2009 11:22 AM | Reply | Permalink
"Well, that means they don't believe in the rule of law."
Pretty fucking hilarious coming from a guy who was just arguing that Polanski shouldn't have been prosecuted for acts committed in California because in some European countries his victim had already reached the age of consent.
"The idea of trying "to do what is right" is exactly what was behind the extermination of the Native American culture -- we needed to give them the "superior" beliefs of Christianity."
Yes. Thinking Polanski should be prosecuted for raping a child is EXACTLY like advocating the genocide of a continent's indigenous inhabitants.
October 5, 2009 11:25 AM | Reply | Permalink
Its really simple. She's doing a personal cost benefit analysis and we are doing a societal cost benefit analysis.
It seems just as obvious that he was getting perks for being rich and famous too. A plea bargain for 42 days for vaginal and anal intercourse with a 13 year old girl wasn't the normal sentence at that time.
If he was treated unfairly I see no problem with dropping the charge of jumping bail and just adjudicating the charge of raping a 13 year old girl.
October 5, 2009 7:08 PM | Reply | Permalink
Quite a blog, LisB. Teenage development is complicated enough to live through once. But to recapture experience and feeling so authentically is amazing. Rec'd.
October 5, 2009 9:27 AM | Reply | Permalink
Thanks, Loosey. Sometimes my teen years don't seem all that long ago to me, so I guess that's why I'm able to describe them so well. Not sure what that says about my maturity level, heh heh...
But, thank you.
October 5, 2009 10:28 AM | Reply | Permalink
When you're on top, it is very easy to say, "not-quite-enough schooling, too much beer, too much TV," or, "She was responsive."
October 5, 2009 10:45 AM | Reply | Permalink
Good point, Donal. Thanks.
October 5, 2009 11:03 AM | Reply | Permalink
Awake now.
(Descriptive, not imperative!)
When I look back, I realize the transition came in stages, and seemed to be - in part - a terrible urgency about damn near everything, no matter how trivial. Because I, after all, had discovered everything for the very first time right then, and who could tell me otherwise?
And now, as I look back from some distance, I am very glad of one thing: I never had kids - specifically daughters. "Why is that?", you may ask...
Well, I remember all the things I had in mind for the daughters of others at that age.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c0gEa20Wsqg
October 5, 2009 11:29 AM | Reply | Permalink
LOL, thanks for the song. The lyrics are a trip.
And yes, that terrible urgency...I remember it well.
October 5, 2009 11:39 AM | Reply | Permalink
"And there's a group of teens at the door, and none of them have even bothered to dress up except to put some black paint streaks here and there on their faces, and perhaps wear Grandpa's old blazer in order to look like a bum, and they are holding pillow cases only one-quarter filled with candy."
Your house wasn't on the South Side of Chicago, and this didn't happen around 1976, did it? Because, if so, I'm sorry someone in my group insulted you.
LOL. The last time I trick or treated was less like t or t and more like extortion: "Just hand over the candy, lady, and nobody or nothing gets hurt. Capisce?"
October 5, 2009 11:29 AM | Reply | Permalink
Heh, no, I didn't grow up in Chicago, sorry. And to be honest, I no longer answer the door on Halloween night -- I live on the 3rd floor and I'm not about to go running up and down the stairs every time the doorbell rings. Sorry, kids...
October 5, 2009 11:42 AM | Reply | Permalink
I was pretty much kidding. Your story just brought back a lot of vivid memories. A nice piece of writing. Thank you.
October 5, 2009 12:30 PM | Reply | Permalink
I'm on my way to the Southside of Chicago this week for a family wedding.
I did not grow up there. I've spent my whole life in Alaska (where my Dad fled after having grown up on the Southside and served in Vietnam). I visit at least every two years, make big plans to sight see and end up sitting in my Aunts kitchen gossiping and cooking instead.
Funny thing is, I always felt safer there than I ever have living in Alaska. I guess I prefer human wildlife to any other, it certainly makes for some good adventure stories to tell everyone back in Alaska.
People do like to laugh in Chicago, must be why Obama calls it home.
October 5, 2009 11:03 PM | Reply | Permalink
Well, I love living here, and haven't been to an American city I'd rather live in (I have never spent enough time in NYC to get a real feel for what life there would be like).
And it definitely has more bars than any place on the globe not in the UK. That may explain the laughter.
October 6, 2009 1:04 AM | Reply | Permalink
I should say they like to laugh at other people. Heckling is a South Side pastime and my favorite hobby.
You know you're from Beverly when...
October 6, 2009 1:18 AM | Reply | Permalink
That's one crude story about the dickweeds coming to your door acting so shamefully,
The Ole Bluesman say,
You gonna reap just what you sow
That ole saying is true
You gonna reap just what you sow
That ole saying is true
Just like you mistreat someone
Someone gonna mistreat you
October 5, 2009 11:44 AM | Reply | Permalink
Mmm, well, immaturity can lead folks to be pretty harsh at times, yeah.
October 5, 2009 11:50 AM | Reply | Permalink
Teens trying to show how abusive they could be.
Song was released by Bobby "Blue" Bland in the height of the modern blues era on black radio. Unfortunately, there is not a YouTube vid worthy of the name of Bobby doing it, but it's been covered by some pretty talented people. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1WDmMWF83x4
October 5, 2009 12:25 PM | Reply | Permalink
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AzNzCiZwk28
October 5, 2009 12:52 PM | Reply | Permalink
I don't think I ever really experienced my teenage years for many reasons. And being a Baby Boomer not the least. By the time I had reached my mid teens my life had already turned upside down, the Vietnam war was gearing up and me and my friends agenda was becoming a lot more complicated than Prom Night and our relationships with each other became more about not getting sent home from South East Asia in a body bag than Heavy Petting.
For most of us getting through school and into college became as much about a draft deferment as an education. Maybe more so.
I had no real desire to go back to school right away and did not have the resources to do so. Instead I chose to go into the Air Force. I figured that with my experience in electronics and radio, I would probably wind up Flying a desk doing maintenance. Besides they had the best food.
However a sever accident on my motor scooter ended that idea. But the settlement afforded me the opportunity to go back to school. Which I did for a while.
I am an old "Boomer" though I do not see myself as such. I do regret the teenage "Rights of passage" that I did not get to experience. I feel that it has left me incomplete some how. A part of life that is missing from me.
I can accept never having scaled the Rockies or gone sky diving or visiting Stockholm a lot more than having never tried to "get to first base" with a lovely young girl.
I think to an extent that encouraging young people to grow up too fast, protecting them from the realities of life and not allowing them to be young people is a mistake. It deprives them of a very necessary part of living required to gain the wisdom to be an adult.
C
October 5, 2009 1:03 PM | Reply | Permalink
Very wise words, C. Thank you.
October 5, 2009 1:10 PM | Reply | Permalink
Wonderful post LisB. This is modern feminism.
I was given the best advice a father could give.
Don't make life choices out of spite. Be it boyfriends, degree paths, jobs and for chrissakes marriages. I've done my best to choose for myself and not out of some perceived expectation and I can't emphasize how miserably happy its made me.
Owning one's choices - be they crushing mistakes or sparkling successes is the gift you give yourself.
I wouldn't change a thing. Integrity happens when no one else is looking.
October 5, 2009 8:07 PM | Reply | Permalink
I remember the bedspreads, the couches, the back seats of cars, the blankets on the ground and the dizzying awareness that I liked boys. I vividly remember each of their reactions when I continually said "no thanks". Most seemed to understand, the one or two that got angry lost my friendship as well as my youthful respect.
There were not that many for me. But I experienced much through my less-than-particular friends. I saw their frustrations and their anger - their incredible happiness and overwhelming joy when the phone rang. If it didn't, many of them simply looked for the next band coming to town, or the cute guy who paid attention to them.
Attention. Teenagers are no different than adults when it comes to the craving for it. Yet, hopefully, as adults we've learned through experience that not all attention is good. Just as not all is deserved. It's absurd to expect young people to know where the lines are before they've learned where to draw them.
Nice, Lis. Thanks.
October 5, 2009 1:52 PM | Reply | Permalink
I remember the cooties.
October 5, 2009 1:55 PM | Reply | Permalink
We still have folks with cooties. We've just lost the ability to see them.
October 5, 2009 2:16 PM | Reply | Permalink
Is there something wrong with cooties? They're rather tasty.
(Looks at Marquis Sea to Shining Sea)
October 5, 2009 8:01 PM | Reply | Permalink
Beautiful comment, Missy. Thank you.
October 5, 2009 2:33 PM | Reply | Permalink
Shudder! What trauma you've conjured from the past!
Growing up ain't easy! It helps if you have a FUNCTIONAL, loving, supportive family to help you through (My wife is a shining example of this).
But for those of us with dysfunctional families... broken families... and a propensity to do drugs at an early age... Well... We're fucked beyond words.
I strongly believe that each person needs to KNOW themself. Needs to be "comfortable in their own skin" as you so eloquently put it. I think it's impossible to move forward in forging new meaningful relationships unless you first know yourself. You owe it to the others in your life to get this right.
It pains me to this day to see a 40 year old man (for example) who has the emotional maturity of a 13 year old boy. The jokes he tells... the way he perceives and treats those around him... I know it's got to be a LOT like that whole Teenage period... only he's got to live with it all the damned time. Not to mention those around him... Ugggg....
Anyway... Those were some very dreadful years for me... College really didn't help... It took a while for me to "grow up".
Now I have a loving, functioning family (despite my best efforts)... own a business... and feel great in my own skin.
I sometimes wish we could simply form a chrysalis one day... and sometime later emerge fully formed.... But then, I am who I am because of what I've been through - the good, the BAD, and the Ugly... It's the pressure of all those things that has made me who I am.
...and I now like who I am. I wouldn't change a thing. (although there are still a few apologies I will give when I get the opportunity.)
October 5, 2009 2:22 PM | Reply | Permalink
A lot of people, apparently, can grow old without ever growing up. Thanks for your insight, Icky.
October 5, 2009 2:37 PM | Reply | Permalink
Wonderful comment, indeed.
I think most of us manage to survive our teenage years. No one ever said it was easy.
October 5, 2009 8:03 PM | Reply | Permalink
"You owe it to the others in your life to get this right."
Exactly.
I've had a lot of struggle trying to raise two young boys being an atheist in a small town full of not very many atheists, if any. Not going to church makes me the crazy cat lady who drives around in a spray painted van. At least it makes me feel that way sometimes.
But I remind myself that being who I am is how I nurture their souls to do the same. Besides, faking it just sucks the life out of a person. Life is too short to waste living someone else's expectations.
This thread has done more to describe real happiness to me than anything I've read in a long time.
Thanks folks.
October 5, 2009 10:25 PM | Reply | Permalink
I know in looking back I was dreadfully stupid. No wonder kids are definat of us older folks. It isn't so easy for us to hide the idea that we think they are stupid. That fact is they are. Just as we were. Thus the endless cycle of mistakes and relearning old lessons go on and on. And quite apparently education, while helpful, can't teach the lessons of life.
October 5, 2009 2:24 PM | Reply | Permalink
I'd also like to add that my wife is from Brazil.
In Brazil it is common for children to live at home all the way through college and up until they get married.
This seems like a very good idea to me (assuming the kids are working hard toward their better future and not bumming off mom and dad).
When they finally enter the world, they are WAY more fully developed psychologically and emotionally... AND they likely don't start out their lives with a HUGE DEBT (College Loans, for example).
Contrast that with my own upbringing: When I was 19 my mom told me it was time to leave the house. I did.
At 16, I bought my own car (was working when I was 15 painting houses)... I got my own car insurance - because my parents wouldn't let me on either of their policies. I paid 100% for all of it. I also started buying my own clothes at 16, too.
At 18 I was told that if I wanted to go to college, then I'd have to pay for it. My parents weren't going to pay a dime. So I did.
I paid for 100% of my college. And starting at 19, I paid 100% of my rent, food, and EVERYTHING ELSE... All while working 40+ hours per week and attending class Full-Time!
When I entered the world I had only the support I was able to offer myself. A tough row to hoe.
Having the benefit of hindsight, I think the Brazilian way offers many more benefits... not the least of which is more time for guidance and maturity.
October 5, 2009 2:31 PM | Reply | Permalink
Used to be that way here as well.
Now they move out, go to college and then come back when they are married.
This does not seem to work out as well.
C
October 5, 2009 3:29 PM | Reply | Permalink
I was so much older then...
I'm younger than that now.
October 5, 2009 2:57 PM | Reply | Permalink
Always amazed at how you capture moments and feelings so clearly, yet with so few words. My teen years were about moving from one place to another so often I had no chance to really know myself. Sometimes I am still wondering, actually.
October 5, 2009 5:24 PM | Reply | Permalink
I spent Friday and Saturday hanging out with a bunch of teenagers. All of us were celebrating something like the fiftieth anniversary of our eighteenth year. We were pretty cool then, and we're pretty cool now.
Friday we told a lot of stories about things we did--saran wrap on the bowl in the women's john, we caught the algebra teacher with that one--the pass the hum game in Miss Berg's typing class.
At Saturday's brunch the alumni director said today's kids would never get away with what we did. We winked at each other and said "poor them".
October 5, 2009 8:11 PM | Reply | Permalink
=D
October 6, 2009 12:11 AM | Reply | Permalink
Oh you are great Professor. I mean it!!! Of course you would celebrate with the youngsters. So they were old youngsters? So what? Wonderful
October 6, 2009 1:10 AM | Reply | Permalink