Author: Jim (Page 34 of 51)

Father of 4, Engineer, Social Worker, longtime blogger, #linux user. Opining on the internet? What else is it for?

Jesús era un Boxeador

March 16, 2006 / Jim

Last night I was at the juvenile processing facility. I got to meet a kid named Phillip. American name, but didn’t speak a word of English. I thought it weird. Whatever.

He was a baby, barely 15, but he wanted to be a boxer. He’d trained with his uncle before winding up in prison on a year and half sentence. I secretly wondered what a 15 year old could do to wind up in prison for 18 months. Geez. Either that or what I’ve heard about the racket of "lawyers" extorting money in the projects para bregar was actually true.

"You have a friend who gives you a Playstation… what do you do with it?"

Puzzled look – like I was trying to trip him up with a trick question, like if he said, play the damn thing, I’d zing him and say… no you give it to charity and spend more time in church on your knees thanking the good Lord for your life. Remember to wail and gnash your teeth. He loves that.

"You would… " I motioned with my thumbs as if to fiddle with the controller.

"Play it?"

"Yeah!" I exclaimed, "You play the thing. That’s why your friend gave it to you. And what is a Playstation for? To be P L A Y E D."

Phillip smiled a 15 year old smile, ear to ear, clean teeth to clean shining teeth.

"So now you’ve got this Playstation that you didn’t ask for. You kind of know what to do with it, but it’s really no fun by yourself. Who do you call first?"

"Mis amigos?" He offered.

"Right. Then you get together and share your gift with your buds. You pass time with them sharing the Playstation."

"Yeah." Phillip smiled again.

"Phillip, what’s your talent? What do you want to do with your life?"

Phillip hesitated. I don’t know why, I had not been trying to trick him. The quickest and most natural thought is usually the right one. I had not led him astray up to that point. He stilled seemed to be searching for some kind of noble Godly vision of what he should be doing with his life instead of what he wanted to do, what he was good at. He gathered the courage and offered:

"I want to be a boxer."

"Cool," And without missing a beat, "Did you know that Jesus was a boxer?"

Again Phillip was thrown for a loop. Jesus a boxer? How could it be? Boxing isn’t Godly. Boxing isn’t pious. Boxing is at best the red-light district of sports and humanity.

"Have you ever heard the phrase, ‘leave it all on the field’? Or in your case ‘leave it all in the ring’?"

"No." He looked at me quizzically.

"Well, after you fight, you should barely be alive. After you finish, you shouldn’t be able to stand. After you are through, you will have nothing more to give, no interviews, no congratulations, no celebrations, and if you lose no sorrows, no regrets, nothing. You will have used it all up and left it in the ring."

Phillip looked at me, eyes wide in puzzlement or amazement.

"Phillip, for what purpose do you have this life? Did you ask for it?"

"Eh?"

"Are you going to get out alive? Does anyone live forever?"

"No, I guess not."

"Isn’t it a gift like the Playstation? Aren’t all gifts just that; not asked for? And just like a gift that you didn’t ask for, the best thing you can do with it is use it, before it breaks, before it becomes obsolete… or the Playstation III comes along." Phillip chuckled. "What would you save it for anyway? You’ve got to use it.

Jesus wasn’t just a boxer? He was the champion of the world, uncontested, undefeated, even in death. He knew one thing that only the greatest champions have ever come close to knowing. He knew that how you do a thing is more important than anything else. That whatever you do, you live it fully, completely, with no regrets.

When you box, it’s a spiritual exercise. In order to do it well, you’ve got to study it. You have to train. You have to discipline yourself. You must have respect for it. With all the things you do you pay homage to your life and your life is that which has been given to you as a gift. You honor your gift by being the best boxer you can be.

Remember too, though, that all gifts carry a burden. You have a heavy responsibility. If you want to be like Miguel Cotto you have a heavy burden to carry. You might see his victories, his money, or his fame, but his bouts show his discipline, his patience, his devotion to his craft. He’s not hanging with his friends in the evenings. He’s training early in the morning and getting his rest. When he’s not training or resting, he’s probably reviewing films, studying his sport or eating a special diet. Yes, he has time for friends, but he’s a championship boxer and it’s not easy. And he’s surely not getting in trouble.

Phillip, is this future what you want? Do you accept this? Will you take up the burden, the responsibility, and the commitment to make your dream a reality?"

"Yes."

Ruby on Rails – Insert Multiple Child Records

March 6, 2006 / Jim

Yes, I understand this is going to be a weird post for some of you. Frankly, I haven’t been writing enough about what I spend most of my day doing, so here it is.

I have been having a bafflingly hard time trying to figure out the proper way to insert multiple child records from one single webform. It is the standard fare for posting things like invoice headers and details. Say for example, you’ve got an invoice record which consists of an order number, date and whatnot. That particular piece of tabular data is then considered the parent of its child line items (product_id, description, quantity, price, etc). So you’ve got this Order which consists of an invoice and line items.

It’s pretty basic, but I’ve had the hardest time figuring out how to do this is Ruby on Rails. I know it’s not hard in theory, but with Rails, since there is only One Right Way(TM) to do things, ’cause you’re on Rails, it takes a bit of doing to figure out this Right Way(TM). I personally don’t have a problem doing it Rails’ way, but please dear God, just tell me what it is. I bought the book and everything.

So here’s the dope, folks. Please correct me if there’s a better way of doing this, ’cause I’m a Rails n00b. For reference sake, I am using Ruby on Rails 1.0 with Postgres 8.0.4 and Ruby 1.8.4

First the webform:

<ul id=items>
   <% for item in @items %>
   <li><%= check_box_tag 'line_item', item.id, checked=false, {:name => "line_item[item_id][]", :id => "line_item_id_#{item.id}" }  %><label for="line_item_id_<%= item.id %>"> <%= item.title  %></label></li>
   <% end %>
</ul>

Make sure to use check_box_tag instead of check_box. check_box holds a hidden text input that by default inserts a 0 into the database. From http://rubyonrails.org/api/classes/ActionView/Helpers/FormHelper.html

The checked_value defaults to 1 while the
default unchecked_value is set to 0 which is convenient for
boolean values. Usually unchecked checkboxes don’t post anything. We
work around this problem by adding a hidden value with the same name as the
checkbox.

You don’t want that. You want the plain vanilla check_box_tag which does none of that nonsense, because you in fact, don’t want your line_item table being filled with up with all kinds of line_items referring to product "0" or product "NULL".

So that’s our form. The line <% for item in @items %> comes from the items.rb model and is just a little database query to get all the items associated with a particular order for posting in our invoice. Why would we use checkboxes? Well, maybe we’re not going to invoice the whole order. Maybe we’re out of some items. We’ll let our warehouse guy check off the checkboxes on his wireless pda. How’s that?

If you were watching closely, you’ll notice that I modified the check_box_tag behavior with options of my own with the following:

:name => "line_item[item_id][]"

This is what gives us multiple lines (an array of items) to pass to the controller. [] is the important part.

Now, so far this is easy, or at least I thought so. I’ve done this a hundred times in php, but that’s just the problem, I got tired of writing and re-writing this. I wanted Rails to handle all the parent child relationships for me and leave me alone. I’m lazy.

But I couldn’t figure out exactly how to do this. Frankly, I’m still trying to fit all the method/class/object/instance/variable blah blah blah into my head and keep all the Invoice invoice invoices straight. I know, I know, it’s probably me, but I’ll wager there are a few more slow-witted programmers out there for whom this is all so confusing. A phrase that I have been becoming more familiar with while working in Ruby on Rails is, "Use the force." It’s funny, but most of the time when I relax and make stuff up without trying to "understand," things usually Just Work(TM). Jedi Programming… who knew?

So we’ve got our form. Now we need to post the parent and the children in one fell swoop.

Now for the model (no, not Victoria’s Secret): Invoice will not reference the children (the children will come running when they hear their parent’s voice regardless of whether they are called by name). The parent "has_many" children and does not bother remembering their names or ids or anything. The children on the other hand "belong_to " (or reference) the parent and are tattooed with the parent_id stamp of ownership (big ears for example). When they are required, they will all line up under the parent and file out like good little children.

Got it? Parent -> has_many :children, Child -> belongs_to :parent – the model of a perfect Catholic Rails family.

Now we need to post the stuff. This is a snippet from the invoice_controller.rb:

   def create
      @invoice = Invoice.new(params[:invoice])
      @invoice.order_id = @session["order_id"]
      for item_id in params[:invoice_item][:item_id] do
              @invoice.invoice_items << InvoiceItem.new(:item_id => item_id)
      end
      if @invoice.save
         flash[:notice] = 'Invoice was successfully created.'
         redirect_to :action => 'list'
      else
         render :action => 'new'
      end
   end

order_id is stored in the session array and is used to reference the invoice. The invoice in turn has items added to it for each item_id in the params passed from our form. What happens on @invoice.save is the following:

Rails inserts the invoice header (the parent)
Immediately fetches currval(invoices_id_seq) to retrieve the newly created invoice_id
Uses that invoice_id number and iterates over the invoice_items inserting both the item_id and invoice_id
commits the results if successful

That’s it! Easy, huh? Well it took me all day to figure it out. I knew it was easy, but perhaps I don’t have mad google sklz or something, because it left me scratching my head. Hopefully someone will find this useful. Leave a comment and I’ll do my best to answer your questions. If not, I’m sure I’ll forget it in a few months and have to reread this *G*.

Andy Rooney – Have You Ever…

March 4, 2006 / Jim

I went out the other day on my bicycle to buy some milk. I suited up, grabbed some cash and headed out the door. My morning was uneventful up to that point, routine. It was about to go awry, but not while I was on my bike, no thanks to the cruel fates who would have loved for this little memoir to have started off differently.

After I returned, I realized that I had to replace the car’s registration sticker. It had expired the 28th and I had to put on this year’s new little sticker so that I could be legal and that no one could call me illegal and take my car away. I grabbed a razor blade scraper thingie, some Windex(TM) registered patented trade-secreted intellectually propertized brand glass cleaner, and my new little sticker, clutched in my paw like the last Cheetos brand(TM) original corn puff snack of goodness on the planet.

Or maybe I felt a little like a first grader in craft class. Whee, what were we going to make? I’ve got my pencil, my paste, and my paper.

Scrape scrape scrape, went the razor.

Smudge smudge smudge went the sticky glue bead balls.

Tear tear tear went the old sticker.

Curse curse curse went the Jimmy.

Spray spray spray went the Windex.

Wipe wipe wipe went the paper towel.

Smudge smudge smudge went the window.

Sigh. Finally the surface was prepared, and I applied the sticker. Look, mom, no bubbles. But the stupid thing was on upside down*.

It was going to be one of those days, eh?

*not really, but it’s funnier that way don’t you think? I’m sure that’s what James Frey thought. Truthfully, my day was just fine, a bit hectic, but then again that’s life, doncha know.

Music to Save the World

March 2, 2006 / Jim

The big question is how are we going to share the world. Music is one of the good ways of conversing, because if I know what you love and you know what I love then we actually start a different kind of conversation.

Cellist, Yo-Yo Ma, on an episode of NPR’s Performance Today

True Love is the Greatest Thing in the World

February 16, 2006 / Jim

I was just looking at my son’s Valentine’s card on my desk. The little truck sticker that he had placed on it had fallen off. I picked it up. What a cute little manly truck. I stuck it back on the construction paper between the two hearts, one pink and one orange. To the right of the orange heart he had put a sticker of a helicopter and another small pink heart. Below, Jaimito had drawn his family as stick figures. Our bodies were rudimentary, but he had put extra emphasis on the faces, beaming smiling faces.

He had selected each element with care, I am sure. Jaimito made me a card to communicate his love for me. He also made sure that the card represented himself, hearts of love, his family, and a truck and a helicopter.

Boy, do I love that little boy. I want to be just like him when I grow up. It’s funny, but I remember the rush of first love, those days of your first Valentines. You get older and those rushes fade. One would wonder if they were supposed to fade, should I look for new love, hang on to the old, or just accept that first love, that young passionate love is long gone?

Well, folks, it ain’t over. The rush comes back, and I think, comes back both stronger and steadier. When Jaimito handed me his Valentine’s day card and said, "Here, Daddy, I made dis for you," I swept him up into my arms, crushing him to my breast, peppering his round cheeks with a thousand kisses, until he giggled with delight. "Daddy, did you see the truck?"

"Yes, I love your truck."

Organized Religion and Cookies

February 10, 2006 / Jim

We’re back in a new chat with Jesus. Welcome back everyone, and Jesus – how have you been?

J: Not good, not good at all. I’m a bit distressed with this organized religion thing.

I: What do you mean? I thought that was an invention of yours.

J: *looks askance at interviewer*

I: *defensively* What?

J: Look, I was the original anti-established organized religion guy. Geez, I came here to tear down the temple, remember? My goal was to tear it all down and – well not so much tear it down as re-purpose it – wait.. let me think for a bit.

Okay, here’s a good analogy. Let’s try this on for size.

Let’s talk about warm chocolate chip cookies, shall we?

I: Oookay… I’m listening

J: Good, let’s think of the institution of the Church as a big warm chocolate chip cookie. Let’s think of them all, all the churches like that – all big warm chocolate chip cookies. The Catholic church, the biggest Christian denomination founded in my name has this huge honking warm gooey chocolate chip cookie and it’s going stale. They’ve stirred and baked this enormous cookie and what do they do with it?

I: I’m kinda lost with the whole cookie thing.

J: Sigh, cookies? Cookies are love, dude. Cookies are love. You’re killing me.

So you’ve got this huge cookie. What are you going to do with it? I’ll tell you what I did with it. I starting breaking off pieces and handing them out to people.

Breaking – it – apart. You got that?

Every time I went to temple, I’d shove some pieces of it in my pockets to take to the sick, outcast, and the forgotten. The tough thing about it was, I couldn’t sneak much out, but to some of the people living on the outermost fringes of society, a crumb of the stuff was pure gold. It made me feel really good to be able to brighten their days and bring them some morsels from time to time.

I: Did they really have cookies back your day?

J: Again, love, dude – love. Cookies are metaphors for love. The church is supposed to be a manifestation of love, therefore it’s like a cookie, best eaten with a glass of warm milk.

So I’m all, ‘Tear down this temple and I will rebuild it in three days’, but that’s not what I said. I said to tear it down and feed it to my hungry brothers and sisters, then we would return and rebuild it in three days. It’s another metaphor. Love and cookies work best when shared freely. Cookies, when kept to yourself, just get moldy and nasty. It gets stale and old and rotten, then you spend all your time trying to keep it from getting nastier, preserving it, putting it in the freezer, protecting it from harm. If you’d just eaten it when it was warm you would have always had fresh cookies. You see it’s not ABOUT the cookie, it’s about sharing the cookie, using the cookie.

The problem was that when I spoke about these things, you all whipped out your little notebooks and wrote down: "Must make cookies. Cookies are sacred. Cookies are the key to everlasting salvation." And you all went off and made little cookie shrines in my name (like I hadn’t seen that before, sheez). Look, it’s for e-a-t-i-n-g. *mimes putting a cookie in mouth, chewing*

But when my hungry brothers and sisters came to taste the cookie, you brushed them off saying, "No, no, no, you mustn’t touch the sacred cookie. That’s one of the blessed mysteries of the church and you went back to the fabrication of more cookies on display under glass."

You can see how it’s a little frustrating. I was the original destroyer of organized religion. I’m not for it. I wasn’t for it. I was a disruptive force, a sacrilege, a heretic, and a subversive influence.

I like to think I was the mad subversive cookie baker.

And I’d hoped you’d all get giddy with cookie baking and serving and just go crazy dishing them out to the corners of the world. Some of you did, God bless you, you got it, but there’s a whole bunch of you who didn’t. I hoped that you’d search out the most lost, the most hungry, the most unloved and offer them a piece of your cookie, and say, "You look hungry, here’s a plate of warm cookies and milk. Best eaten now. We can always make more. Don’t waste your time preserving them."

Get to it man, get to it!

Four Things (Bah!)

February 8, 2006 / Jim

I’m going to pull a page from the anti-blogger. Pretend I’m hip for a sec (I know it’s a stretch, but bear with me). I would probably respond to the cliquey little meme-tag shit in the following manner.

Four Jobs I’ve had:

Look how freaking poor I am
I’m one of the working class – at least I was for the summer between my sophmore and junior year of college
I’m not a classist bastard
I’m interesting, I swear – I had a bunch of jobs, see?

Four Movies I can watch over and over

I’m artsy
I’m deep
I can play populist too
But ~~deep down~~ bah, who am I kidding? I’m better than you are

Four places I’ve lived

I’m worldly
But a homeboy
Hon, what was the name of that city in Canada where we spent the night that one time?
Thank God in a blue state

Four TV shows I love

No reality TV
I’m quirky – but derivative
I’m a trend-setter
Except for the fact that I watch TV

Four places I’ve vacationed

Remember that part where I could hang with commoners… well forget that
Europe BAAABBBY
Never in a red state
Can I count Europe twice?

Four of my favorite dishes

Something I can’t pronounce
Something I never really ate, but the IDEA, the idea of the dish spoke to me
Something from Europe that can only be found in the expensive trendy import shop around the corner
Not something found in a typical red state super market, or God forbid a Walmart. Ptooie

Four sites I visit daily

Please don’t type foxnews.com
Please don’t type foxnews.com
Please don’t type foxnews.com
foxnews.com – damn!

Four places I’d rather be right now

At our favorite little French cafe, remember the one from the magazine ad?
In a blue state, preferably San Francisco – well, it damn-well ought to be a state
Somewhere conspicuous, reading anything with "Manifesto" "Media" or "Conspiracy" in the title. To help passers-by check out my hipness, extra points for fabricating a jacket with the title in large print.
Saving the whales in Europe with ropes made of hemp.

Four bloggers I’m tagging

Someone who will increase my page rank
Someone who will increase my hipness
Someone who validates ME
Someone who isn’t in a red state

* BTW, I had to google "blue state"/"red state", because I didn’t know which was which. You mainlanders are a strange lot, what with your gang colors an’ stuff.

Ezequiel Wants to Paint Cars

February 1, 2006 / Jim

“How do you call yourself?” I asked extending my hand.

He mumbled something. I couldn’t make it out.

“Could you say that again?”

“Escgael,” he said again as I leaned in.

“Eh? What was that again?”

“Esdasel.”

“Could you write it down please?” I handed him a pen and paper. I watched him write out E-Z-E-Q-U-I-E-L. “Ah, from the Bible – the Jewish prophet. Interesting. Cool.”

He smiled.

“Okay, now that we have that out of the way, I’m James o Jaime en español. Pleased to meet you. So, Ezequiel, first I want to ask you why you came down today?”

“I always come down.”

“Okay, did you come down for a particular reason?” I always ask this because I’m not sure if a particular inmate is coming to the session for religious study, general chit chat, or just to get out of the general population for a respite. I can go all religious if need be, but I prefer to weave it all together in a more secular way. But really, it’s all the same to me. Me da igual.

“I’d… like to look for… Jesus.”

“Why?”

He shrugged. Look I don’t know, maybe. Maybe I felt I was supposed to say that. Or maybe I was trained to say that. Or maybe it felt good to say that. Or maybe I’d like… I dunno.

“What do you want to do?” I asked him. “What would you rather be doing right now?”

“I’d like to be out of here.”

“Yeah, but if you were out of here, what would you be doing? What do you like to do. What would you like to do with your time?”

“Paint cars.”

“You mean like in an auto shop? Hmmm, that’s interesting.”

We talked, or rather, I talked/asked him about painting cars and his talents and what he liked to do. He was a quiet kid. He didn’t say much.

“Hey, you ever see that show on MTV, ‘Pimp My Ride’? It’s this show where they take an old beat up car and turn it into a work of art. New seats, new rims, tires, interior, rugs, sound system, televisions, computers, new dash etc. They always put a super fine paint job on it too. You want to do something like that?”

“Yeah.” He smiled his eyes twinkling. He was still a kid of few words, but he had these twinkling eyes. I’d have to pay attention to his eyes for clues to his thoughts.

“So, how might you paint these cars? What would you paint?”

“I don’t know.”

“How about some clouds, and ‘Mi bendición’ with a Puerto Rican flag with a cool metallic ice?”

“Yeah.” His eyes got wide again. It’s like I could read his thoughts before he even knew he had them. I could see him dreaming about his beautiful paint job. I watched reflections in his eyes of some big aluminium rims, sweet Pirellis, neon in the undercarriage, an awesome fade on the side panels with a Puerto Rican flag waving in the cool tropical breeze. It was like a big piece of sweet candy and I could see it tasted good to him.

“It’s like art, you know?” I offered. “One of the things that we share with God is the need to create. It’s one of the things that takes us back to the divine, compartimos ese rasgo con Dios. He was sitting there all alone and he had this big nothing, but a lot of love. He could do no other thing than create… everything. So great was his love, he created us. That’s what it’s like when we create. When we create we are doing the same thing that God did. We are fulfilling the same need. We are sharing in the divine.”

Ezequiel nodded.

“So, guess what,” I added. “Lots of famous painters throughout history created paintings on all kinds of places, walls, poles, town squares, floors, ceilings, carriages, you name it. They painted everything. Maybe you do this painting on the car that says, Jesus es el salvador or mi salvación, Jesus. Whatever.” I thought maybe I was getting corny now. I pictured in my mind a typical heavily modded import with a rosary and crucifix hanging on the rear view mirror. Painted on the exterior I saw a big mural of La Señora de la Providencia, an image of the Virgin Mary, with an infant Jesus resting on her lap painted big and fat on the hood. I saw chrome, lights, a crucified Christ on the door, and a cloud-like father figure emerging from a heavenly scene.

It’s not my taste, for certain, but I loved it. I see some of the graffiti here and I must say I am in awe of the talent of these kids. While I wouldn’t own a Jesus-pimped car, I have to say I’d love to look at it. I’d love to drink it in, enjoy the art, appreciate the expression. I would stand in awe of such a creation.

I shook Ezequiel’s hand before we left. It was a pleasure to meet you, I said. I told him that I dreamed of the car he would paint. I told him I dreamed the dream as if it was my own. I wished I could paint that car the way I dreamed it. But, I told him, I’d probably screw it up.

It was up to him to do it right, because the world needs that car.

Damnit, I won’t go to the vineyard

January 31, 2006 / Jim

This is a gospel passage that Laura and I have been getting a kick out of lately. I am the first son.

Matthew 21,28-32.

What is your opinion? A man had two sons. He came to the first and said, ‘Son, go out and work in the vineyard today.’ He said in reply, ‘I will not,’ but afterwards he changed his mind and went. The man came to the other son and gave the same order. He said in reply, ‘Yes, sir,’ but did not go. Which of the two did his father’s will?" They answered, "The first." Jesus said to them, "Amen, I say to you, tax collectors and prostitutes are entering the kingdom of God before you. When John came to you in the way of righteousness, you did not believe him; but tax collectors and prostitutes did. Yet even when you saw that, you did not later change your minds and believe him.

"Jim, will you take out the trash?"

"No, I’m busy." Laura goes off and does something else. I think about it for a bit, and go take out the trash.

"Jim, a client is requesting a change on X Y or Z."

"Why do they want that? That’s stupid. They’re idiots. They don’t know what they want. I won’t do it. I quit!"

Laura goes off and does something else. I think about it for a bit, and make the change.

I’m such an idiot sometimes, but at least I go to the vineyard and get the job done. Laura tells me I’m a loveable grouch.

Now get thee, Jim, to the vineyard.

Where Feminism has Succeeded

January 23, 2006 / Jim

I sat down with Olaia last night to read her a book. "Hmm, let’s see… what shall we read?" I grabbed a collection from her bookshelf, flipped through the table of contents for something fun to read. I read the titles aloud so that she may shout out when she heard something she’d like.

"No. No. No," she answered to each of the selections.

"How about Encyclopedia Brown? I used to read those when I was just a little older than you are now – when I was a little boy. I always liked Encyclopedia Brown."

"Okay, Daddy, sounds good."

I began to read. The story started with a little introduction to Encyclopedia Brown’s family. Idaville was an idyllic little town where no crimes went unsolved. Encyclopedia’s father was the chief of police. He was very successful. Little known to all, though, was the fact that his son Leroy "Encyclopedia" Brown was behind his father’s success. His prodigious intellect had earned him his nickname. It was a happy family, happy and successful and perfect. Dad was the chief of police and his son was the crime solving engine powering Idaville’s crime-free environment.

"Daddy, what does Encyclopedia Brown’s mommy do?"

A funny little crooked smile crept onto my face. "Well gosh, Olaia, that’s a mighty good question." Quick Jim, think fast. What does his mommy do. I am always unmasked by my insightful daughter. She has this knack for cutting through pretense and slicing snip snap right to the incongruence of a matter. Myself, I carry my load of 1970’s preconceptions and "common" sense. I’m a child of the rising action of the feminist movement, with all its rancor and discord.

"A woman’s place is in the home," I heard from one.

"A woman’s place is in the office," came another.

"Equal rights! Equal rights!" was screamed all around. What was it all about, I had no idea. Something was being birthed, but I knew not what.

Fast forward to present day. Maureen Dowd laments the failures of feminism. "We pushed too hard to be like men. We took the fun out of being women, and now there’s a backlash. Now we’ve gone too far the other way, back to sex objects, back to finding husbands to complete us," she flirted in a recent interview with Tim Russert. "Maybe some things stuck, though."

How do I explain to Olaia what Encyclopedia’s mom did without demeaning her role? After all, she loved her family, we just didn’t notice her.

I didn’t notice her.

"Olaia, back when this book was written, mommies didn’t work outside of the home as much. People didn’t like for them to have jobs, so they took care of their families. They would cook dinner, clean, and make sure everybody was okay. Things have changed since then. It was a long time ago, but now mommies and daddies work together in the house and outside of the house. Mommies can do anything they want. Does that make sense."

Olaia had noticed her, and now that I had explained myself and Encyclopedia’s unnamed mother, she was ready to go. "Yes, okay, let’s read the book."

Of course it made sense to her. What didn’t make sense was there was no mention of Encyclopedia’s mommy and what she did. For all intents she didn’t exist except as an apron clad figure serving a casserole to Encyclopedia Brown and his dad.

Today’s beautiful "common" sense is the unassailable expectation that girls can do anything boys can do – anything they desire. It’s as common and natural as anything could ever be, as real as conceived, born, nurtured, educated, tortured, and eventually fully grown. Feminism and feminists should take heart. Today’s girls and young ladies come of age with a new common sense, a new and entirely distinct awareness of what is possible and expected of them.

And my lovely lovely little girl, Olaia, what of her? She gets to wear a dress if she wants too. She gets to study what interests her. She gets to be what she was meant to be without the limiting oligarchy of generations past.

And my personal observation: overlook her insight at your own peril.

Author: Jim (Page 34 of 51)

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QOTD

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