Actually I have several confessions to make, so we may as well begin. I hate cars. Hate is a strong word…I dislike, disdain, am disgruntled by cars. More properly, it is not the cars themselves that put me off so much as my own dependence on them. And last night when I saw that LL had brought home a pair of Cars sippy cups for our toddler, I allowed this feeling to play upon my face in what translated, in no uncertain terms, as disparagement.
In that one wordless moment (followed by clarifying questions on the part of LL, to which my feeble replies only revealed my pettiness) our evening was transformed. Minutes before we’d said goodnight to friends and were winding down a relaxing evening. Now the air was not so much pulled taut with tension, as deflated, a circus tent collapsing after the show ended and the lights went down. The dull sadness of condescension softly weighed on the air and there was nothing I could say or do to prop the tent back up. My unconsciously withering look upon seeing the Cars purchase had negated all the amazing thing LL had done with her day: laundry, groceries, mail, preparation of a fabulous meal, all while taking care of our 16-month-old. At bedtime my recitation of the light-hearted picture book Bubble Trouble buoyed our spirits. But only a little.
Lest I be accused of reliving this memory only to the end of yet again deflating the spirit—let it not be so! In reflection I seek, selfishly, only to learn. To see where I might make the world a little bit lighter. And in the light of day, the hypocrisy of my disparagement makes me laugh out loud.
First of all, let’s face it: not only do I rely on cars, but I am no less guilty than the next person of abusing their convenience. Since moving to our little town, I almost always drive to the grocery store. I drive to the hardware store. I drive to the gym, only 4 blocks away, because my time is So Important and I couldn’t be troubled to get my bicycle fixed. I did finally take my bike in for an overhaul and now I use it, sometimes. Were there public transit, would I use it? You bet. Am I out there organizing, lobbying, doing sit-ins for it? No. I am Too Busy.
Second is that cars are a symptom and not the underlying problem. For that discussion see every other blog I’ve posted, or read Daniel Quinn’s Ishmael.
Third, it’s a sippy cup! We needed one, my wife bought it. It happens to have a cartoon car on it. BIG DEAL! To whatever degree I wish to safeguard our child from pop culture, I should keep in mind the cautionary lesson of a family I knew growing up. With strictly religious parents denying them almost all contact with “stuff”, each child went to the wall upon escaping: teen pregnancies for the two daughters, a turn as a Chippendale for the son. RELAX, dad!
Finally, if I’m going to say anything, let it express my profound gratitude that our family enjoys the luxury of such things as cars, and the freedom to work towards better options; sippy cups, into which we can pour clean, safe drinking water from our tap; and exposure to media and information—yes, exposure to cars, but also to all the other things that I want our baby to know: dolphins, and deserts, river canyons and caterpillars, clouds and fractions and Hugh Masakela and the water cycle, plate tectonics and double helices and Alice Walker, hobbits and redwoods, A Wrinkle in Time and soccer and starfish. Let me give thanks that that our child is growing up in a two-parent household, surrounded by love.
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