24

If my grief from my mother's death bore a child, she would be 24.  She could be in her third year teaching.  It is all quite overwhelming.

Ah, Summer.

Suppressing Super Heroes.

Introducing Spence to super heroes was fairly intentional.  After too many nights were interrupted with terrifying nightmares, I decided that it would a little super hero support might be needed.  Yes, a bad guy might be lurking around the corner of your bed, but Iron Man is on the job with a new machine to thwart him.

Soon his room was littered with Batmans, Iron Mans, Spider Mans, Wolverines, Green Lanterns, Captain Americas....and of course, Flash.  The list is endless.  Plastic action figures are fairly easy to find at the neighborhood garage sale.  It seemed to help with the nightmares.  Slightly.  Well, that and the sweet smelling air freshener that we said monsters were allergic to.  Another lie.

I wish I could say that I had thought ahead.  Perhaps it was my white privilege that let me turn a blind eye.  (Perhaps?  Even now I cannot escape the protective language.  It was.)  But, suddenly I looked up and saw my son surrounded by white action figures with a token white Wonder Woman thrown in for good measure.  White Supremacist Capitalist Patriarchy.  And then I stumbled upon this article by a dear friend who was an originating force for the White Noise group that I am apart of.

Commitment to anti-racist work does not prevent embarrassing backsliding.

Tucked in to another long road trip, I decided to broach the subject.  "Spence, do you ever think about who is not made into a super hero?"  The question was clumsy.  His response led to a discussion on how he desperately wished to be a super hero.

I tried again.  "I think it is strange that you only have super heroes that have white skin."  This led to an extended response on how *actually* the Incredible Hulk has green skin.  Silly me.

And again:  "Where are all the super heroes with brown skin or black skin?  I just don't think it makes sense that there would only be super heroes with white skin."  Spence was thoughtful.  Then pointed out Hawkman, who indeed does have brown skin.  He has learned well from popular media.  However, tokenism does not lead to societal transformation.  I kept pushing.


Once more, with feeling:  "That's true.  I still wonder why there are so many people in the world with black and brown skin, but you can only name one super hero with brown skin.  I am curious about that.  It doesn't seem right or fair."  Another thoughtful pause.

"Maybe it's because their white skin gives them their powers.  Like their costumes."

This is where I wanted to jump in and police his emerging racial understandings.  After all, these thoughts become a representation of me.  Suddenly, there was so much more at stake.  Part of me wished that I would never have followed him down the rabbit hole.  Perhaps if I wouldn't have pushed we could have never arrived here.  I could have lived comfortably under the veil of colorblindness.   Was it my pushing that brought him to this thought or would it always existed but hidden from view?

I suppressed my overbearing policing voice and just said, "Can you say more about that?"  I let him try this thinking out before Nora interrupted him with her shrieking for inclusion.  I asked him if we could continue the discussion later on because I wasn't convinced that the powers were because of the white skin.  I asked him to keep thinking about it.  He readily agreed.

I wish this were the movies and I could report a Hollywood ending.  But, we are talking about it.  And I have been researching and finding new narratives that have been hidden from my view.  Stepping up my game and not letting the Target shelves dictate his exposure to super heroes.  Like the new Spiderman.  And as he wields his Lasso of Truth, I keep posing the questions and sharing my own critical analysis.

Is there any other way?

Somewhere in Middle America.

We must have listened to this song for about 1/5 of the time we were in the car.  Yup, about 3 hours.  Kickin' it middle school style...

Big Eyes

The problem with these big eyed ponies?  Not only are they creepy, but they will get glaucoma.  And I would be hate to be the person that has to tend to all of these big-eyed, glaucoma-infected ponies.  Especially the one with wings.

I know this because I went to the eye doctor today.  And I have larger than normal corneas.  Yes, the average cornea is 11 (insert appropriate eye measurement here).  Mine is 13.  One needs no crystal ball to see glaucoma in my future.  Unless there is too much fluid there....

But, that is not all.  I noticed that the doctor was rolling out all sorts of tests I had never 'seen' before.  And after each one, Dr. Mike would rub his hands together.  With a mix of worry and glee.  The kind of glee you see in a professional who gets an unusual case.  It was more than a bit disconcerting.  In all fairness, I had mentioned that I have been having some visual perception issues.  You see, sometimes when I am walking on flat surfaces and the color shifts quickly, I stumble.  I have to stop to catch my balance.  I look ridiculous and I generally cover it up with a joke.  Apparently, this is not good.

In the end, I failed all of those newfangled tests.  I have no depth perception.  My brain has been shutting down any ability to merge the two images headed its way and instead picks an image.  This accounts for that nasty bike accident that broke my front tooth and the pesky walking on flat surfaces problem.  His eyes were wide (although appropriately sized), when he told me that my case was "most unusual" and may require "training" my brain. 

Sigh.

Love, Laws & Marriage

When the word came in last night about the vote, I ran into the bathroom to tell Dave.  Breathless, I whispered excitedly, "It passed!"  Spence was still up.  He has perfected a stalling strategy that involves brushing teeth, snack, brushing teeth, creative potty use (this is for another post), books, monster spray and as of late, conversations about God.

Spence was intrigued.   "What passed, Mama?"  I had intentionally whispered, as I know that any chance to stall was immediately pounced on.  I wanted to brush it off, but who am to deny Spence his "where were you when..." moment?

I launched into an explanation that said that the laws in most states prevent some people who love each other from getting married.  "That's silly, Mama," he said plainly.  And that in the state of New York, the legislators voted to make sure that any two people who love each other can get married.  "That's good, Mama."

I went on to explain that Minnesota is one of those states that do not let two people who love each other marry.  And that there is a law that wants to further legalize what is already illegal. 

"Why, Mama?"

I was at a loss to explain why we are being forced to vote on something that is already illegal.  And why we don't get a chance to vote on ending discrimination instead. 

"We have a lot of work to do to change that law, Spence."

Happy Father's Day

 Walking to the new Turtle Bread...

 The Kissing Papa Game.

The other Iron Man...

 The crumbs of a wonderful breakfast.

 A quick call to Bubbeh with a "phone."

Creating lairs for Iron Man and Captain America.