Racism? Really? Part 1

The other day I took teenager #3 out with a friend. We are white, his friend is African-American. We picked him up from his house and headed out of his predominately African-American neighborhood. As we approached an intersection I noticed a guy who was clearly physically handicapped in a wheelchair in the intersection. He was not on the sidewalk, he was on the edge of the road, in the sun, without any sun protection. I watched cars drive past him, I watched cars drive a little too close to him and then move along, but I did not watch any car pull over to see if he was alright. I had to.



I pulled over and got out of the truck and asked the man if he was okay and if he needed anything. He simply asked me who was in the truck with me. I reluctantly told him my children and he replied with exasperation, "I need someone to push me to the store. Can your children come with us?" Frankly, I was not sure what to make of that. So many things were going through my head, not the least of which was, I do not know this person, this could be some kind of scam. He was definitely handicapped, that was not a scam. He was no more than four feet and his legs were atrophied. I thought about my kids and made a quick decision. I went back to the truck and asked the two teenage boys if they would be willing to push the man to the store if I followed along in my truck. They reluctantly said yes and got out. I drove a little ahead so that I could see them easily and waited for them to pass me and drove ahead of them again and did that two more times until we reached the store.



When the boys got in the truck I asked if the man told them how he found himself in the middle of the street and they told me that the man's family brought him there and left him. My son said that he repeatedly asked them to move away from the ditch that ran along the sidewalk which made me wonder if some wise guys kids have pushed him in in the past. We talked about it a little, the three of us, but more than anything I thought about it.

Driver's License- Aaah!

The time has come again for a teenager in our home to get a driver's license. It is funny how different kids are. My first scheduled her appointment for the written test. She always asked if she could drive, scheduled her appointment for the driving test, and has been driving safely ever since.

She was in one accident where another driver backed into her. That driver did not have insurance and it happened in a parking lot, which is private property, so she didn't even get a ticket.

About a week after getting (and paying) for the repairs she hit a tow hitch and put a hole in the front bumper. She has to pay for that one.

So here we are, teenager #2. She asked me to make the appointment seven months after she was allowed. For the first five months of having her permit she hardly asked to drive at all. The last three months she put it in high gear, asking everytime we got in the vehicle. My personal policy is to always say yes unless there is a real reason to say no. As soon as the twelve months of having her permit were up she asked me to make the appointment for her driving test. I wasn't sure she was ready, but I wasn't worried- I was pretty confident whe wouldn't pass.

That was my first mistake...

Hey, are these my hangers?

Yesterday my nineteen year old moved out. Teenager #1 had already been tired of living here with all of her siblings and her perceived lack of privacy. She had "outgrown" her need for rules and decided it was time to be on her own. She was going to move out a few months earlier because she wanted a nose ring and we didn't. She proudly took me to the place she would call home. I was shocked! I thought I had raised my daughter to have at least a little discernment. Not only was this a dangerous neighborhood, but this was a dangerous neighborhood.

As we drove away she asked what I was thinking and all I could say was, "I am wondering why the nose ring is more important and favorable then the clean, safe, large, rent-free home we have provided for you.

She changed her mind. So here we were just a couple of months later. This time she was moving in with the same girlfriend and another roommate, into the type of apartment that many of us lived in when we were still young and ridiculously poor. As we packed her few things and moved her across town I had the time to reflect on this major moment in my life. This was no small event. I was supposed to be sad, wasn't I? I was supposed to thinking back on my moments holding her when she was a tiny baby. But, I wasn't. Instead I was thinking things like, "Are those my hangers?" and "Is she taking any extra towels?" As I write this I am remembering bringing her home from the hospital and holding her on my chest. I was alone and I thought, "I am never getting up again. I am going to hold her forever." That was shortly before I had to go to the bathroom. When I was moving her I didn't think of that time. I thought of the recent arguments. I thought of all of the conversations that started with, "Everyone I talk to says that you guys are being ridiculous. No nineteen year olds have curfews!" Now, I really don't believe her, and more importantly, I don't care if it is true. What matters to me is that my daughter is safe and can be a productive member of society. Following rules, even rules that you don't agree with, lead to that end.

I love my daughter very much and I even miss her, but now, each time that we see each other I feel our relationship getting better. We always had a good relationship, but she has a much stronger personality than I do and laid-back people like me find type-A people like her overwhelming. I believe that in our relationship, absence really will make the heart grow fonder.