The Black Beast Rides No More

April 5, 2008 – 4:43 am

Having an attachment to an inanimate object gives me pause, but I have such an attachment nonetheless.

See, we’ve finally given the family transport vehicle, a 1994 black Suburban, otherwise known as the Beast, its walking papers. With one child in college and another soon to follow, we no longer have the need to cart six people around. This, oddly enough, has made me sad.

The Beast was quite the rig in its day. I distinctly remember being impressed with the two-zone heating system, noting that it wasn’t until my third move that I had such a feature in my house. Alas, the new features out there seem to have eclipsed the Beast.

There’s no DVD player for long drives, meaning that the annual, 400 mile trek to Mt. Ste. Anne in Quebec would quickly try the patience of the driver as children stuffed in against food boxes would tire of staring out at the flat, barren fields shortly after getting over the border.

We attempted to solve the problem with a portable TV/VCR combination that sat on the console between the driver and front passenger seat. It was great for the children, but the speaker on the television was on the rear left of the set, meaning it was loudest for the individual who wanted to listen to it the least.

This configuration likely shaved a few points off my license. One year, I distinctly remember coming up over a rise on 93 shortly after getting on it from 91 in St. Johnsbury and casually passing a trooper going 90 MPH or so, then simply pulling over to deny said trooper the thrill of the chase. My wife was certain I was a dead man, as was I.

The trooper sidled up to the car and looked in to three pre-teen boys at attention and a three-year-old girl with tears running down her cheeks. The Trooper asked how fast I was going, and I managed to give him an estimate that was five miles in excess of what he had clocked me at on his radar, causing him to compliment me on my reaction time.

He then asked me if there was a reason for being in such a hurry. I am not sure what look I had on my face, but what I was thinking is not printable. I managed to maintain my civility and said, “Well, we are coming from Quebec and are about halfway home. We had to pry my daughter out of the McDonald’s fun house kicking and screaming about 10 miles back and, frankly officer,” I said, tapping the TV/VCR that was my perpetual arm rest, “You can only listen to Thomas the Tank Engine on continuous loop for so long, you know?” Read More »

By Feature Writer | Posted in Society, family, humor, north america | Comments (0)

God, Diabetes, and Death in Wisconsin

March 30, 2008 – 7:16 am

A few days ago, in Wisconsin, 11-year-old Madeline Neumann died from undiagnosed diabetes. Her parents prayed over her as she deteriorated, instead of taking her to the hospital.

According to most reports, the Neumanns are a normal American family. They are not members of some weird death-cult. They didn’t show up at military funerals with signs that read “God Hates Fags.” This is, in a way, all the more troubling.

My initial response to this story cannot be published here on account of the vast number of obscenities it involved. I was shocked, and outraged, and demanded immediate removal of the Neumanns’ other children from their home. While breaking up a family in the wake of a tragedy is grim business to say the least, one does hope that law enforcement will keep an eye on the Neumanns. Imposing probation and ordering counseling is the least that can be done.

The fact that the Neumanns’ other children have indeed, for now, been removed from their home may ultimately serve to educate the parents on the fact that their actions, or, rather, their inaction, was indeed wrong.

I am not Christopher Hitchens, and do not wish to use this death to score a point. Let’s put it this way, most parents, religious or not, would take their child to a hospital at the first sign of serious trouble. When it comes to religion, the Neumanns are the exception, not the rule.

As a person of (some) faith, I find that the Neumanns are the perfect illustration to the saying that “a little knowledge is a dangerous thing.” Clearly, the Neumanns “knew” certain passages from the Bible concerning God’s omnipotence and power to heal, etc. And yet did they also not realize that if God allowed His or Her children to create life-saving penicillin, He or She might just want us to use it? Considering that life is a gift and all? Read More »

By Natalia Antonova | Posted in Columnist, Current Affairs, Religion, christianity, family, north america | Comments (5)

Birth Rank And Its Privileges

March 6, 2008 – 11:55 pm

From fairy tales to film, everyone is obsessed with the idea of one’s “firstborn.” But what about the lastborn?

For my part, I’ve recently discovered that the lastborn child has magical abilities.

Of course, you have no idea what I’m talking about right now. Allow me to explain:

At the end of a long vacation week came a ski day for my wife, daughter and me. Discussions went back and forth as to where to go. Mount Wachusett never became an option given it is an over priced, over crowded, underwhelming experience in spite of their advertising (I think the slogan should be - “little mountain skiing at big mountain prices: you might find worse, but you won’t pay more”).

Other options included mountains around two hours away. We eventually settled on a return to Crotched Mountain where my daughter has been involved in a thoroughly enjoyable school ski program, in stark contrast to prior experiences at the operation criticized above.

I hadn’t been to Crotched Mountain in over twenty six years and found it to be a thoroughly pleasant, small mountain experience that likely could use a few more customers. It’s a perfect little place to take novice and intermediate skiers without having to pay for the lift tickets with a financing plan.

So, on Saturday we loaded up the car for a little quality time on the slopes. We planned our arrival perfectly, we would have about 20 minutes before the lifts opened to suit up and get on the mountain for some early groomed runs.

There was, however, one slight glitch that became apparent only after we parked in the Crotched Mountain parking lot.

My daughter forgot her ski coat.

The equanimity with which I took this news astounded me. It was if I left my own body and observed this aging, portly man operating with extreme calm. Read More »

By Feature Writer | Posted in Society, family, humor | Comments (0)

Sleepovers: Invented By Satan

February 13, 2008 – 12:45 am

Women have an incredible ability to block out memories of sever physical pain; how else can you explain the fact that many sign up to endure labor again by having more than one child?

Surely it cannot be because children provide joy that somehow balances out the rigors of passing the rough equivalent of a bowling ball through one’s nether regions.

Children do have a way of making parents of both sexes stupid. We forget all sorts of horrific experiences we vowed never to do again. A few months pass, and, there we are, willfully signing up to do it all once more. Unlike child birth, we can’t blame it on a lack of – ahem – rhythm.

It’s just our abject stupidity.

Stupidity, of course, brings us to sleepovers. Normally such events take place in conjunction with birthday parties. Unfortunately for us, our three sons’ birthdays are a little more than six weeks apart, compressing this fun and frivolity into something more akin to an endurance test, or boot camp. Our daughter has yet to get into the mix, although that looms just around the corner, I am sure.

There have been good ones and there have been bad ones. Good ones usually mean the weather cooperates and the children can be run ragged outdoors in a controlled environment. The physical exertion generally means they will sit somewhat quietly once indoors for a prolonged period of time.

Bad ones remain hard to remember, which goes to illustrate the blocking-out thing we parents do as a form of self-preservation. I do dimly recall one sleepover where two of my charges were on Ritalin – during the weekdays. Taken off Ritalin on the weekends seemed to unleash unholy pent-up energy which they could not adequately harness. I, of course, learned this the hard way when I came downstairs at 2:00 a.m. to find one of them taking apart my computer. Read More »

By Feature Writer | Posted in Society, family, humor | Comments (3)

Thanksgiving, My Grace

November 22, 2007 – 3:54 am

I’ve been, naturally, thinking about the whole thankfulness concept, and what, in particular am I thankful/grateful for right now. I was reminded of the mess we went through with child #4 starting when he was about a year old. He had allergies, serious ones: to cats, cockroaches, and dust mites. When I say serious, I mean serious.

His skin was literally falling off in quarter and half-dollar sized chunks, like something out of an Austin Powers movie. In the creases of his knees and elbows the skin would crack and bleed. He itched ferociously, and we would wrap him in gauze to try and stop him from scratching. When I took him to the pediatrician, he (the Dr.) was so impressed by #4’s skin that he took photos of it to show at a convention (yay!… Not really, no).

The Dr. and I decided on a shotgun treatment: throw everything we can think of at the allergy in hopes that something works. That didn’t quite do the trick. When #4 was two, we were referred to a pediatric dermatologist in Atlanta. He was also sent to a pediatric allergist in Montgomery- a 70 yr old Southun Gentleman wearing a bowtie and in possession of a pocket full of suckers. Between the salves and other remedies prescribed by the dermatologist, not to mention the series of allergy shots (normally not started on a two-year old, but he was really, really in need of them), by the time #4 was five, his skin was clearing up. When we moved to Statesboro, we located another allergist, who tested him again and said his allergies were gone, the shots worked.

So… Medical Science… It’s a good thing. My son still has scars on the backs of his knees, where the skin cracked open, but the rashes, the horrible bleeding raw spots, the crying all night from itching, are over. What I have now is a happy, clear-skinned, long-legged eight-year old boy, who doesn’t remember the misery, puts his underpants on backwards, and dumps too much Ovaltine in his milk. Read More »

By Feature Writer | Posted in Society, creative nonfiction, family, north america | Comments (0)