It's 2012. What Will You Live Again?

As New Year is upon us, I can't help but reflect back on Slaughterhouse Five (read my review on GoodReads). The book is, in a word, odd, yet it is also very profound.

It is about a man named Billy who is "unstuck in time." This means that he lives his life out of order, jumping ahead and then jumping back again. A few pivotal moments in his life include: serving in WWII, getting married for money, becoming a successful optometrist, being present as a POW for the bombing of Dresden (one of the worst bombings in terms of civilian casualties of WWII), surviving a plane crash, being kidnapped by aliens and placed in a zoo, meeting an author, and so on.

That one about aliens is the one I have reflected on the most. The aliens that kidnap him are called Tralfamadorians. They are unique in that they see, not in the limited 3 dimensions that humans see, but in 4, the 4th dimension being time. Because they can see in time, nothing ever really ceases to exist. They can see, and therefore live in, any moment in the past, present, or future. To them, no one ever really dies because they still exist in the past. It also means that they already know how the universe will end because they can see the future (spoiler alert: a Tralfamadorian test pilot working on a new time/space engine pushes a button and that's it for the universe).

From the beginning, I thought that the concept was pretty interesting, even though it pushed too far into fatalism for me, personally. But the concept I liked the most was how the Tralfamadorians accept the terrible things in life. Because they see/live in the 4th dimension, they can live in any moment they want. So, to avoid falling into terrible depression, they choose to live in their best and happiest moments. They don't live in war, for example, they live in peace.

As the New Year approached and this idea of living in the good times has percolated, I've begun to think about the times that I want to relive this year.

The biggest "good time" was probably when I saw Captain America. It wasn't because the movie was particularly great (though I thought it was very good). It was because we saw it in 3D. The 3D itself wasn't necessarily remarkable, but it was the fact that I could see the movie in 3D that blew me away. I didn't realize, until that moment, just how bad my left eye had gotten prior to the corneal transplant I had back in March. I COULD SEE 3D! It was amazing and well-worth living again, despite the pain that was required to have that experience.

I'd also like to relive our trip to Arizona back in July. The first part, Marcus' wedding, and the last part, the 24th in St. Johns with my family, were awesome. But the part I will remember most will be the 2 days we spent in Jerome and at the Grand Canyon. It was so much fun and brought back so many other good memories. I loved sharing those old experiences with my children, and the aches I felt after we hiked a bit down the trail and back again, and the long, seemingly interminable drive, were totally worth it!

If I get a 3rd choice, I'd also relive the recent power outage caused by a big windstorm (see The Answers Are Blowing' in the Wind). Don't get me wrong, it was a terrible experience—and very, very, cold. And we still haven't fully recovered. But the time we spent together huddled around our fireplace reading A Christmas Carol and roasting hot dogs and telling stories and singing and all of that, was so worth it.

Now that I think about it, the Tralfamadorians are wrong. It really isn't possible to relive the good without the bad because the bad inevitably leads to the good. Or, at the very least, it leads to those moments that are most worth reliving.

I saw a commercial the other day about a car. It said something like, "The only thing better than getting what you wished for, is getting more than what you wished for." I don't buy that. I think that one of the many things better than getting what you wished for is finally achieving something that you had to work and sacrifice and suffer and strive for—something that comes a great, personal cost way beyond a dollar amount. Like going through a painful surgery to be able to see things that you missed before without knowing it, or suffering a couple of very cold nights to spend quality time with loved ones, or barely tolerating a long, difficult drive to share some of you best childhood memories with your children.

So rather than reliving just the good times, I want to relive both the good and the bad because, at least for me, they can't be separated.

What times will you relive?

The Answers are Blowin' in the Wind

Windstorm, 2011
I love the "blustery day" sequence in the old Winnie-the-Pooh movies/books. It is a great sequence and I love how it ends with Pooh rescuing his best friend—albeit, unknowingly. I grew up in a very windy place where local legend says that the founders stopped there to wait out the wind and, since it never stopped, they built a town (as good an explanation as any), so I could relate to a "Windsday" as Pooh calls it.

I remember a particularly bad windstorm where my brother and I watched our neighbor's shed blow across the street into our yard where it crumpled into a mess of thin sheet metal. The next year he bought another one and I got to watch that one take a trip across the street as well. I also remember taking sheets and catching the wind with them so it would drag us along the ground.

The wind would often blow for weeks at a time. People in my hometown would literally go nuts listening to the gale day-in and day-out day-after-day-after-day. Nobody blamed them.
Good times.

So, when the weathermen predicted a bad windstorm for my new hometown last week, I didn't really think much of it. I mean, it's just wind, right?

On Thursday, we woke up to find our big pine tree knocked over by that wind. The tree missed our house, which was a good thing, and no one was hurt, another very good thing, but it did manage to land on our power lines, knock down a telephone pole, and damage the mast where the power connects to our house.

To make a long, very cold story short, we were without power for a few days and had to huddle in front of our fireplace waiting for the electricians and power company to get everything back in shape.

In the end, we weren't really too bad off. Sure, we got pretty cold (the thermostat read "48" when we could turn the heater back on), but we were all safe and we had a fireplace to help keep us warm, a luxury many of our neighbors didn't have (the entire city was out for nearly 24 hours).
The best part is that the insurance is covering pretty much everything, including the tree removal. Home insurance really sucks... until it doesn't.

The days without power were an interesting experience. We got to appreciate what our forebears must have gone through on a day-to-day basis to settle this area. And the kids got the experience of life without TV or video games or computers or even light in the bathroom. Most of the time, it was kind of fun and the kids started looking at it as an adventure. In fact, after it was all over, Joey told us we could count that for our adventure this month. We just may...

But beyond the adventure, there was something I really liked about the experience: Because the rest of the house was an icebox, all of us huddle in the same room and actually spent time together! I read half of A Christmas Carol to the kids (one of my favorites), they played board games on the floor in front of the fire, we roasted hot dogs and made s'mores, and in general, just spent time together. The kids didn't even really fight much! One particularly fun memory was watching the kids sit around the fire telling scary stories to each other. It was almost sick it was so idyllic!

It made me wonder if it was possible to have that same kind of "together time" without a windstorm knocking out the power or another more drastic disaster. Jenna and I have toyed with the idea of dropping the thermostat a few degrees to make the house colder and then building a fire to "encourage" everyone to gather in the front room. We've talked about turning off the TV and reading to each other a bit more, and other things like that. 

The problem with all of our ideas is that they are easy to say, and I can even see us doing them once in a while, but they are hard to do on any kind of consistent basis. I like my house at a comfortable 68-degrees. And we all like watching movies—a lot. So I wonder how often we will actually be able to do it.

Maybe the song is right and "the answers are blowin' in the wind." Maybe we need wind or something like that to help us remember that we actually like being together and like being a family.

Or maybe the wind has just made me crazy. It wouldn't be the first time.

One Moment of Parenting

It is funny how, as your kids get older, you begin to understand the pain that you put your parents through. This week brought that into sharp focus when the kids brought home their report cards.

For the most part, the report cards were very good, but Joey is failing in one, very important area. It brought back a very bitter memory of my own time in elementary school and I suddenly understood things that didn't entirely make sense to me at the time.

It happened when I was in sixth grade—the year I pretty much wrote off school. That year my teacher was... how to say this politely... not the best for me. He made it too easy for me to skip assignments and space out in class. I'm not blaming him for how I acted that year or for my grades, I'm just saying that his easy-going, hands-off teaching style just made my bad attitude about school worse.

That year I missed a lot of assignments. I think it was somewhere around half in some subject areas that I thought were stupid. My grades, which, until 5th grade, had been pretty good, dropped dramatically. But until 6th grade I'd always managed to pull off mostly Bs and Cs with the minimal effort I put into my school work. In 6th grade, I all but stopped trying and my grades slipped to Cs and Ds.

I honestly don't remember learning anything that year. I remember winning a writing competition and going to NAU to meet a real author (a highlight of my youth), but I don't remember a single thing I learned beyond that. I do, however, remember some of the stupid things I did to avoid having to think about certain subjects. Health was my worst subject. Not because I didn't understand it, but because I thought it was stupid and pointless. I went to extraordinary lengths to avoid thinking about health, including using the bubble sheets for our health quizzes to make fun patterns like zigzags and circles and things. I also remember not wanting to "waste" my time on the subject so rushing through assignments like answering "True, False, True, False, True, False" rather than even reading the questions.

Needless to say, my attitude came out in my grades and the fateful day when I got my first (and only) "F" arrived.

I knew that it was coming and that there wasn't anything I could do about it. So a few days before report cards came out, I asked my mom what she would do if I brought home an "F" on my report card. Her answer surprised me.

"I'll probably cry," she said. "And then... I don't know."

And that is exactly what happened. When I gave her my card, she didn't say anything— much worse than if she'd yelled. She just went into her room and cried for what seemed like a very long time. I felt terrible.

At the time, I really didn't understand why she was crying. After all, it was MY grade and MY fault. What did it have to do with her? Somehow I felt that it was unfair.

On Monday, I finally understood.

When Joey brought home his report card with the failing grade, it made me sick. The thing is, I wasn't upset at him so much as upset at myself. I knew that he bore some of the fault, but I felt like it was more my fault. I felt like I had failed him in some way. It made me feel terrible and, like my mother, I cried.

I suddenly understood what I never could as a child. As parents we care so much about our kids. Right or wrong, we hold ourselves responsible for their success and failure. When they succeed, we are happy. When they fail, we feel it almost more than they do.

I think that the key is that we, as parents, are better equipped to see the long-term effects of their actions. Also, we can see ourselves in them, so we feel it more.

Oddly enough, it made me think of a Simpsons episode. In the episode, Bart does something bad (can't remember what) and Homer punishes him by refusing to let Bart go to the new Itchy & Scratchy movie. It is the first time Homer has ever punished Bart and made it stick. Always before he gave in after Bart put on the miserable act. This time is different because Homer is haunted by the thought that Bart could end up as a criminal or a Supreme Court Justice depending on whether Homer punishes him or not. So, no matter how hard Bart tries to get Homer to change his mind, Homer sticks with his guns.

The episode ends several years later with Homer and Bart—now a Supreme Court Justice thanks to Homer's one moment of parenting—walking along the streets of Springfield. They see that the movie theater is playing the Itchy & Scratchy film. Now that Bart has grown into a great man, they agree to see it together. When Itchy (the mouse) does something mean to Scratchy that, to some degree, mirrors the terrible act that Bart did earlier, Homer comments that "Itchy is a jerk." Bart laughs and puts his arm around his dad's shoulders. "Yes he is," he says.

Okay, not exactly related to Joey's issue, but as a father, I can relate to Homer's dilemma. He felt responsible—COMPLETELY responsible—for how Bart turned out in the future. Bart's future happiness pivoted solely on whether or not Homer could actually punish him and therefore teach him the consequences of bad behavior. 

I think that the fact that  Homer's one moment of parenting really did have the desired impact on his son is both a parent's greatest dream and worst nightmare. We love the idea that we can make such a difference in the lives of our children, but it is terrifying to think that we may screw them up beyond repair.

That was how I felt about Joey. I felt like his failure was actually mine. That I was a bad parent because I hadn't taught him correctly. Whether that was true or not didn't matter. I am his father, he is my responsibility and as a result I will always feel that what he does says just as much about me as it does about him.

It made me understand how my mother felt. I suddenly understood why my "F" caused her to cry. She felt like she had failed—that she hadn't been the mother she should have been.

Today, I can honestly tell her that it wasn't her fault. It was all mine. And I am very sorry I made her feel that way.

I can only hope that we can reach Joey like she reached me. Maybe he'll wind up as a Supreme Court Justice.

Meet Mina Brooke Moulton

[caption id="attachment_281" align="aligncenter" width="200" caption="Mina Brooke Moulton"]
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[/caption] Today Jenna and I went to the hospital where Jenna gave birth to a beautiful baby girl. Name: Mina Brooke Moulton Born: August 31, 2010, 6:06 PM Height: 21.5 inches Weight: 10 pounds Mommy and baby are both doing great. [caption id="attachment_288" align="aligncenter" width="300" caption="Mommy and Daddy leave for the hospital."]
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[/caption] [caption id="attachment_274" align="aligncenter" width="300" caption="Mommy says hello to her baby girl."]
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[/caption] [caption id="attachment_273" align="aligncenter" width="200" caption="Mina wraps Daddy around her little finger."]
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[caption id="attachment_275" align="aligncenter" width="300" caption="Mommy, Daddy, and Mina"]
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[/caption] [caption id="attachment_276" align="aligncenter" width="300" caption="Aren't I cute?"]
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[/caption] [caption id="attachment_277" align="aligncenter" width="300" caption="The kids meet their youngest sister."]
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[caption id="attachment_280" align="aligncenter" width="300" caption="Our big little girl."]
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[/caption] [caption id="attachment_283" align="aligncenter" width="200" caption="Mommy and her 5 kids."]
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[/caption] [caption id="attachment_284" align="aligncenter" width="200" caption="Miranda and Mina."]
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[/caption] [caption id="attachment_286" align="aligncenter" width="200" caption="Joey and Mina."]
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[/caption] [caption id="attachment_285" align="aligncenter" width="200" caption="Chissa and Mina."]
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[/caption] [caption id="attachment_287" align="aligncenter" width="300" caption="Hayden and Mina."]
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[/caption] [caption id="attachment_293" align="aligncenter" width="300" caption="The girls."]
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The Chissa Effect

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We recently returned from a week-long trip to Disneyland. It was a lot of fun and the kids loved it, especially because Jenna and I had tricked them into thinking we were going to Denver and then left a half-day earlier then they were expecting. But, while rushing from line to line and spending a few minutes on the rides are all fond memories, I think I will most remember something I saw Charissa, our 7-year-old, do. It was while we were in California Adventure waiting for the Grizzly Rapids ride. Jenna and Hayden, who couldn't ride because they were too pregnant and too short respectively, were off having fun elsewhere while I waited in the interminable line with the other three. The ride is one of those rafting rides that takes you through simulated rapids and waterfalls. It is a lot of fun, but what I will remember most happened long before we ever boarded the raft. One part of the line crosses a bridge that overlooks the tail-end of the rapids trail. Previous rafters float under the bridge on their way to the unloading station. As we were paused indefinitely on the bridge, I was watching Joey and Miranda goof around, then realized Chissa had fallen a bit behind. I looked back and found her standing on her tiptoes looking down at the rafts passing under the bridge. As each raft passed underneath, she grinned her biggest grin and waved at them. The interesting part was that, whenever someone in the rafts noticed her, their faces, which were already happy (I mean, they were in the "Happiest Place on Earth"), lit up. It suddenly took me back to the day, several years earlier, when Chissa, then 1-year-old, caught her finger in a van door and we had to rush to the hospital. The tip of her finger was all but severed and, as you can imagine, she cried a lot. But, as hour after hour passed in the emergency room and we still waited for a doctor, her tears dried and she started wandering about, looking at the many different kinds of people there. It was fascinating to watch her as she walked from person to person, just wearing her diaper and with her arm bandaged all the way to the shoulder. She would pause at each person, lean over, wave to them, and smile. Immediately, the faces of those she observed—even the handcuffed guy standing in front of two imposing police officers—lit up as they waved back at this little girl with a bandaged arm. I've often thought about that moment, and every time I have, I marveled at the amount of joy that one little child brought to one of the most depressing places anyone can ever visit. I often wonder at how she was able to put aside her own pain and take the time to notice people—to smile at them and make their lives a bit more bearable. It makes me wonder, how much better would life be if we all followed Chissa's example and really noticed those around us and took the time to do something as simple as smile and wave to them. Maybe it wouldn't be enough to change the world. But perhaps it would be. Isn't it worth a try?

Thoughts on My Last Class

I finished the last class of my Master's program today. It was ... well, a little disappointing, since I still have to finish my book before they actually give me the degree and since they forgot the whole fanfare. But still, I'm done and that feels good.

For my last class, I took a video editing 1-credit. It was a lot of fun and I got to learn a lot of fun things about my new camera. For my final project, I put together the below video about my kids. I thought everyone would get a kick out of it so here it is. Joey was a real trooper and I think all the kids did a great job and had a little fun to boot.

Enjoy!

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EyK37mAbhRw&hl=en&fs=1&]

Mom & Dad, I Am So Sorry

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Last Wednesday, Joey had one of "those days" at school. It was so bad that his teacher emailed us to let us know that he'd had a particularly rough day, especially in his math cluster, where he goes for more advanced math (he's very good at math).

When Jenna picked him up from school, she said "Joey, your teacher emailed us today," and he immediately responded. "Oh, it was about math cluster, huh?" Jenna nodded and told him that we would talk about it later.

A few hours later, after I got home from school and from taking Miranda to ice skating (she's becoming such an ice princess), we sent the other kids to bed and sat down with Joey to discuss the problem.

"Joey," I said, "what happened today?"

There was a long pause as Joey glanced nervously around before blurting out "I don't remember."

After a grueling, hour-long session with him, trying to get him to fess up, we finally got part of the story. But as I sat there watching him, I kept thinking, this is just like me!

I remember, very vividly, sitting his his place while my parents tried to get me to admit to something I'd done wrong. I remember the thoughts and even the facial expressions. I remember my parents frustration and my own terror that they would discover what I'd done (funny that I don't remember what it was, just the interrogation).

And then I realized that now I'm the parent!

So, today, I just want to tell my parents that I am so very, very sorry for everything I put them through.

And now I can only hope that Joey has a kid just like him. Ha ha ha! Sweet revenge.

Zombies, Superheroes, and Our Children

My sister, Katie, is a glutton for punishment. She keeps asking excellent questions that inevitably lead to long blog posts. I think it's great because it helps me to firm up my own thoughts and conclusions about what I am researching: it helps me put things into order and make sense of them. I just wonder how the rest of you feel about it.

After my post on why heroes are getting darker (which also stemmed from one of Katie's questions), Katie asked a very good follow up question: how will darker heroes affect our childrens' worlds of pretend and beyond? This question is a lot harder to answer than the first one for a couple of reasons. First, my area of research has been primarily focused on proving that heroes are getting darker and what that says about post-9/11 America. I have not been researching what the changes mean for the future. Second, making those kinds of predictions is extremely difficult because hard evidence is very hard to come by. There aren't any really good studies that show long term impacts of these kinds of changes. That being said, as a father of young children that will grow up in this darker reality, I recognize how important the question is and, since I have come across a few things in my research that may shed a little light on the subject, I'll take a stab at it.

I think it is important to remember that I am not suggesting that darker heroes are making our world darker. For the most part, I believe it is the reverse: our heroes are reflecting the darker, post-9/11 world. At the same time, darker hero stories with little optimism and hope feed our pessimism, making the world seem darker. It is a cyclical thing that feeds on itself.

Over the past few days, I have been reading a very fascinating book called World War Z: An Oral History of the Zombie War (2006). The book, which was written by Max Brooks, Mel Brooks' son, is a collection of first hand accounts of a long war with zombies wiped out a large percentage of the earth's population 10 years earlier. It is a very fascinating read and I will likely write up a review of it once I've finished reading it (I'm about half-way through).

One of the first hand accounts in the book appears in the chapter titled: "Home Front USA." It is about Roy Elliot, a man who was a movie maker and well-known actor before the war. As the US began the process of retaking and fortifying the country, he was ranked as an F-6, which means he had no useful skills (useful skills are classified as those that could directly help with the war and reconstruction efforts: gardening, metallurgy, weapons training, construction, etc.). But, after a long struggle, he found himself a very important role.

In the story, one of the major problems faced by the Americans (in fact, faced by the whole world) was what they called "ADS," which was Asymptomatic Demise Syndrome or Apocalyptic Despair Syndrome. Essentially, it was people giving up on life. They could be barely wounded or completely healthy when they went to bed but never wake up. In all, it was claiming over 100 people a day. The problem wasn't physiological, it was psychological. Elliot was the one who found the cure.

He went to the battlefield and recorded key victories. He got the army to bring high tech weapons that provided great visuals (specifically, lasers), and recorded them whomping on the undead. The fact that the lasers were highly impractical in real combat, didn't matter. They made for a thrilling show that seemed to "prove" that the Americans were winning. Elliot travelled from camp to camp, screening his movies and scattering copies everywhere possible. The first time one of his movies was shown, ADS dropped by 5%. After a few months, it had been cut in half.

Toward the end of the story (which is written like an interview), Elliot asks the interviewer if he has heard of The Hero City, which was made by a similar filmmaker during the Zombie War (from what I gather, The Hero City was where the Americans finally overturned the zombies, but I haven't got to the specifics, yet). When the interviewer says that he has heard of it, Elliot expounds: "Great film, right? Marty made it over the course of the Siege. Just him, shooting on whatever medium he could get his hands on. What a masterpiece: the courage, the determination, the strength, dignity, kindness, and honor. It really makes you believe in the human race... You should see it."

The interviewer responds that he has seen it, to which Elliot asks: "Which version?" At the interviewer's confusion, Elliot explains: "There were two... Marty made both a wartime and postwar version of The Hero City. The version you saw... Did it show the dark side of the heroes in The Hero City? Did it show the violence and the betrayal, the cruelty, the depravity, the bottomless evil in some of those heroes' hearts? No, of course not. Why would it? That was our reality and it's what drove so many people to get snuggled in bed, blow out their candles, and take their last breath. Marty chose, instead, to show the other side, the one that gets people out of bed the next morning, makes them scratch and scrape and fight for their lives because someone is telling them that they're going to be okay. There's a word for that kind of lie. Hope."

While obviously fictional, the preceding section from World War Z brings out an interesting point: the power of pop culture to influence the psyche.

I'm not talking about making people behave in certain ways. Arguments over whether pop culture makes children and adults act one way or another have been going on forever (even Plato got in on this one!). And, no matter how many studies come back with conclusive results one way or the other (many people don't know that studies have proved both sides of the debate, which kind of rules science a moot point), the argument will likely continue far into the future.

No, what I'm talking about is different than controlling people's actions. I am talking about changing or enhancing feelings.

Did you ever come out of a movie feeling better about the world around you than when you went in? Why? Has the reverse ever happened?

In 2006, Metta Spencer, a retired professor from the University of Toronto who studies peace and currently edits Peace Magazine (see Metta Spencer's blog), published a fascinating book titled Two Aspirins and a Comedy. The book examines the impact of television and movies on the human psyche, specifically, their ability to influence negative and positive feelings which can then influence our health. The book describes how movies and television shows draw our emotions to the surface and that, as emotional beings, those emotions can make us either sick or healthy. Essentially, the book demonstrates that, what Roy Elliot's character does in World War Z (make movies that promote hope over despair) actually works in the real world!

So, what does all this have to do with superheroes and our kids? Plenty.

Hero stories are teaching stories and always have been. They reflect (and therefore, teach) the values and highest ideals of the society that created them. Villains, on the other hand, reflect the darkest nightmares of that same society. These reflections are magnified on a large scale to make the lessons obvious. In reality, no one could quite measure up to the pure evil that is the Joker. At the same time, no one could be as morally good as Superman. But, then again, we're not really expected to be. They are archetypes--examples--not models.

Even stories of real life heroes fall into the archetype model. That is what "Marty" in World War Z was doing by omitting all of the bad things done by America's "heroes": he was focusing on the archetypes. Archetypes are not really human, they are what Plato called "shadows" of reality. As a result, they do not have the baggage that humans carry with them. They are neither fallible nor flawed (sorry, just had to throw that out there).

Plato was very worried about Homer and other poets of Ancient Greece bringing their heroes and gods down to the human level. In his Republic, Plato spends a great deal of time slicing and dicing their works to cut out any mention of mistakes or overtly human passions. Heroes and gods, Plato argues, should be perfect so they can be examples to the youth.

The danger Plato most feared was imitation. He worried that bad examples of the gods or heroes would make the youth want to act the same way. What he didn't consider was the impact on emotions and what that would do to society as a whole.

Contrary to popular belief, violence in the media isn't really the problem (I am not saying that it isn't "a" problem) with society. In fact, some types of violence in movies can be very productive as long as it resolves well in the end.

One of the greatest movies I have ever seen is Glory, which is about the first black battalion in the Civil War. The movie is incredibly violent and even difficult to watch, but few things have inspired me more than the courage and character demonstrated by the characters in that movie. Another painful example is Life is Beautiful. That movie is horrific, largely because of the violence it doesn't show, and yet, you walk away from it uplifted and inspired.

Some would argue that those movies are historic (or at least in an historic setting) and, therefore, don't count. But the thing is that our brain doesn't really distinguish between reality and fiction when producing emotions. People can get just as intense emotional thrills watching Star Wars or The Dark Knight as the movies listed above. The sacrifice of a fictional character can be just as moving as those made by characters based on real people.

Okay, so where am I going with all this? It's pretty simple. Because of 9/11 and a dozen other catastrophes that have occurred in the past seven years, our society is becoming far less hopeful and more pessimistic than before. This is being reflected in our heroes, who are becoming darker than ever before. However, as our archetypal heroes in movies, comics, and the rest of popular culture, become darker, they feed the darker mood of the country. Things get darker and darker until all we have left is darkness.

That is, I fear, the great danger of what is happening to our society. The darker our overall mood becomes, the worse off we will be. If Metta Spencer is right, then there will be more sickness, poverty, depression, suicide, and perhaps even crime, all around.

Doesn't sound like fun, does it?

Please remember, that is the extreme. It depends on a lot of people losing all of their hope.

Speaking of hope, that is what heroes, both real and fictional, are all about. They give us hope when, perhaps, we no longer have the right to have any. And, no matter how bad things get, the example of our heroes can always bring us back from the brink.

Of all the superhero movies that have come out since 9/11, I think that The Dark Knight best embodies this idea. After going through everything that they do, the people of Gotham still aren't willing to blow each other up. Even the convicted murderers and all around "bad guys" won't do it. And, when Batman becomes a "villain" (or, at least, is perceived to be one) in the end, he still embodies the selfless sacrifice that so many of our leaders embody. So, even though the movie is arguably one of the hardest superhero movies to watch because of the violence and terror it embodies, it ends with hope.

Hope is a powerful emotion. If there is enough of it, it drives out fear and darkness. It makes life worth living.

Getting back to Katie's question, how will these darker heroes affect our children? If things do not change, I can say with a certain amount of surety that it means that our children will grow up in a world that is much darker than the one we grew up in--or at least perceived to be that way. On the other hand, I think that they will also grow up in a world that is slowly beginning to hope for the future and even believe in the overall goodness of humanity.

In reality, it all comes down to what we teach them. It is impossible for us to shield them from the terrible things in this world, and I personally believe that doing so is a disservice to them. Find those good things. Find those seeds of hope. Teach them to your children and help them grow.

Maybe we can change the world.

When We Aren't Around

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It is always interesting to found out how your children act when you aren't around. When Joey was 2, a friend of ours who had just been released from the nursery let us in on a secret: Joey, our bright little angle, turned into a holy terror the moment we walked away. He bossed, grabbed, and pushed his way through every class period. Jenna and I were shocked.
Last night, we had a similar, eye-opening experience, this time about Charissa.

At home, Chissa rules with an iron fist. Sh is bossy, pushy, and—for lack of a better word—conniving. She seems to believe that she deserves whatever she wants and that pitiful excuses, such as, "there aren't anymore," should not be tolerated and instantly bring on whining and wails such as the world has never seen. And punishing her has no effect.

Don't get me wrong, she can also be the sweetest girl when she wants to be. But when she doesn't get her way, look out.

Shortly after we moved into our new home, Chissa became best friends with Toby, the boy next door. They spend a lot of time together and are even in the same kindergarten class. Toby's mom also likes to invite Chissa over for hours at a time. Whenever that happens, Jenna and I worry about how she acts over there. Last night, we learned that we shouldn't.

"Charissa," Toby's mom told us, "is the voice of reason in Toby's life."

Jenna and I stared. "Charissa? Our Charissa?"

Toby's mom explained that, when Chissa goes over to play, she often says things like: "Toby, you have three of them, you don't have to play with that one." "It's okay, Toby, you can play with the other castle." "No, Toby, I won't hold your hand. You can cross the street yourself." (That last one is my favorite)

It was a surreal experience for Jenna and I to find out that some of what we say so often to our youngest and most stubborn daughter is getting through. Now we just need to figure out how to get her to act this way at home.

I doubt it will ever happen.

Originally posted on Sunday, November 23, 2008