Tuesday, August 31, 2004
Clean your plate!
By Russell King
I can still hear my father’s and mother’s voices saying those famous words of parenthood: “Clean your plate. There are starving children in Africa.” I knew some kids whose parents cited the starving children in China. Some, because I grew up in the 60s, noted the children of Vietnam. These children, we were told, would give their right arm for half the food we left on our plate. Thirty-five years ago, I muttered just softly enough that my parents couldn’t hear, “Well then send it to them,” but just last night I told my own kids, “Clean your plate. There are children less than a mile from here who will go to bed hungry tonight.”
The message about starvation probably isn’t all the effective with children. I can recall thinking, “starving can’t be half as bad as eating chicken pot pie.” So what is it that we are trying to say when we tell our kids to clean their plates?
The first thing I think of when I lay that line on the kids is that I don’t want us to take food for granted.
If it took you a minute to read this far, about 16 people died of hunger while you were reading. A dozen of them were not yet 5 years old. In America, 33 million people are either hungry or don’t know where their next meal is coming from. Of those, more than 12 million are children and more than 3 million are senior citizens. Of the 6 billion humans on the Earth, 1 billion are hungry or malnourished right now.
Meanwhile, just this year, 9.9 billion pounds of food will be wasted.
Hunger, of course, is just one symptom of poverty, just as food is just one of our many blessings. The Census Bureau recently released a report that revealed that the number of Americans living in poverty increased by 1.3 million in 2003. It was the third straight annual increase. There were 12.9 million children living in poverty last year, an increase of about 800,000 from 2002. When you do the math, the sums turn out rather ugly: 4.3 million Americans have fallen into poverty in the last three years alone. Gratitude, for those of us not among those millions, seems in order.
There’s more to gratitude, however, than simply being happy that you’re one of the “haves” instead of the “have-nots” down the road. I want the kids to know and appreciate that the food that’s in front of them got there because a lot of people worked to make it possible, and that some of the work was motivated by love for them. From the farmer who planted the seed or raised the livestock to their mother who planned it, shopped it and prepared it—and all the people in between—the “gratitude quotient” of our food increases each step of the way.
For me, it’s the love that matters most. I see the love that my wife, Rhonda, puts into our family meals, and my feathers get ruffled whenever the kids disregard that love by expressing anything less than gratitude for their food. I understand that with a family this size, there will be few meals that appeal to everyone’s taste, but I’m trying to teach them that there’s more to a meal than its ingredients. If you can’t be grateful for how the food tastes, be grateful that someone cares enough about you to feed you. Cleaning your plate is a good way to show that gratitude.
Throughout history and across cultures, food has carried more than mere nutrition—it has carried symbolic and sacred meanings as well. The Greek theoxenia. The Iranian haoma. The Hindu soma. The Roman lectisternia. The Jewish Seder. The Islamic Iftar. The Christian Eucharist (Holy Communion). America’s Thanksgiving Day. It seems that cleaning your plate might be a good way to remind yourself of, and to be grateful for, all of the blessings in your life, regardless of your metaphysical persuasion.
Maybe, just maybe, this gratitude—this right attitude—will move us toward right action. I once heard a rabbi describe the difference between Hell and Heaven. In Hell, hungry people are sitting around a banquet table. They can see and smell the food, but their arms do not bend and so cannot bring food to their mouths. In Heaven, everything is exactly the same--except that the people are feeding each other.
I think that’s a story I’ll tell at dinner tonight.
By Russell King
I can still hear my father’s and mother’s voices saying those famous words of parenthood: “Clean your plate. There are starving children in Africa.” I knew some kids whose parents cited the starving children in China. Some, because I grew up in the 60s, noted the children of Vietnam. These children, we were told, would give their right arm for half the food we left on our plate. Thirty-five years ago, I muttered just softly enough that my parents couldn’t hear, “Well then send it to them,” but just last night I told my own kids, “Clean your plate. There are children less than a mile from here who will go to bed hungry tonight.”
The message about starvation probably isn’t all the effective with children. I can recall thinking, “starving can’t be half as bad as eating chicken pot pie.” So what is it that we are trying to say when we tell our kids to clean their plates?
The first thing I think of when I lay that line on the kids is that I don’t want us to take food for granted.
If it took you a minute to read this far, about 16 people died of hunger while you were reading. A dozen of them were not yet 5 years old. In America, 33 million people are either hungry or don’t know where their next meal is coming from. Of those, more than 12 million are children and more than 3 million are senior citizens. Of the 6 billion humans on the Earth, 1 billion are hungry or malnourished right now.
Meanwhile, just this year, 9.9 billion pounds of food will be wasted.
Hunger, of course, is just one symptom of poverty, just as food is just one of our many blessings. The Census Bureau recently released a report that revealed that the number of Americans living in poverty increased by 1.3 million in 2003. It was the third straight annual increase. There were 12.9 million children living in poverty last year, an increase of about 800,000 from 2002. When you do the math, the sums turn out rather ugly: 4.3 million Americans have fallen into poverty in the last three years alone. Gratitude, for those of us not among those millions, seems in order.
There’s more to gratitude, however, than simply being happy that you’re one of the “haves” instead of the “have-nots” down the road. I want the kids to know and appreciate that the food that’s in front of them got there because a lot of people worked to make it possible, and that some of the work was motivated by love for them. From the farmer who planted the seed or raised the livestock to their mother who planned it, shopped it and prepared it—and all the people in between—the “gratitude quotient” of our food increases each step of the way.
For me, it’s the love that matters most. I see the love that my wife, Rhonda, puts into our family meals, and my feathers get ruffled whenever the kids disregard that love by expressing anything less than gratitude for their food. I understand that with a family this size, there will be few meals that appeal to everyone’s taste, but I’m trying to teach them that there’s more to a meal than its ingredients. If you can’t be grateful for how the food tastes, be grateful that someone cares enough about you to feed you. Cleaning your plate is a good way to show that gratitude.
Throughout history and across cultures, food has carried more than mere nutrition—it has carried symbolic and sacred meanings as well. The Greek theoxenia. The Iranian haoma. The Hindu soma. The Roman lectisternia. The Jewish Seder. The Islamic Iftar. The Christian Eucharist (Holy Communion). America’s Thanksgiving Day. It seems that cleaning your plate might be a good way to remind yourself of, and to be grateful for, all of the blessings in your life, regardless of your metaphysical persuasion.
Maybe, just maybe, this gratitude—this right attitude—will move us toward right action. I once heard a rabbi describe the difference between Hell and Heaven. In Hell, hungry people are sitting around a banquet table. They can see and smell the food, but their arms do not bend and so cannot bring food to their mouths. In Heaven, everything is exactly the same--except that the people are feeding each other.
I think that’s a story I’ll tell at dinner tonight.
Thursday, August 12, 2004
Daddy gets mad-dog mean
By Russell King
Dads are a protective bunch. Hurt us and we’ll turn the other cheek; hurt one of our kids and we’ll make “operation shock and awe” look like a picnic in the park. This protective impulse is particularly strong when it comes to our daughters.
Daughters get extra protection probably because we’re still carrying some caveman instincts, but undoubtedly because they face far more threats than do our sons. Men just aren’t beaten up, raped or abandoned as often as women are. Nor do men face a culture that does a good job of removing their spines, guts and brains (men face other sorts of limitations). As a dad, I see part of my role as nurturing in my three daughters strength, courage and intelligence, and protecting these treasurers just as I would protect their hearts and their lives.
Whether your intent is to break one of my daughters’ hearts, harm her body, violate her dignity or restrict who she can be and what she can do, the result will be the same: As Clint Eastwood put it in the movie The Outlaw Josey Wales, “then you gotta get mean. I mean plumb, mad-dog mean.”
I had that mad-dog mean feeling right after the Democratic national convention, when right-wing “celebrity” Pat Buchanan said that it’s OK for the vice president to tell a senator on the Senate floor to go “’moose’ yourself” (see my previous post “It’s not OK to say moose in public” 7/5/04) but somehow not OK—even dangerous--for Teresa Heinz Kerry to tell a reporter to “shove it.”
A bit of context: the vice president used the most foul of obscenities with a senator who told the truth about the vice president’s dirty laundry; Kerry rebuffed, crudely but without obscenity, a harassing reporter from a newspaper that has for years told lies about her.
Buchanan actually said: "Well, an argument between two guys is understandable. But this woman needs to be watched. You know she has this huge fortune and she's uppity and Americans need to keep an eye on her.”
“Uppity.” He said “uppity.” This is the same word white racial bigots used to stick in front of the N word when complaining about black people who wanted to fully partake of life in America. It’s the word that gender bigots (we used to call them chauvinist pigs) now stick in front of the B word when complaining about women who want to fully partake of life in America.
Allow me to translate. What Buchanan said was that because Kerry is a woman—he made the distinction--she must keep in “her place,” meaning beneath men. It’s OK for a man to speak his mind, but not for a woman. It’s OK for a man to defend against an adversary, but not for a woman. It's OK for a man to be tough, but not for a woman.
Buchanan also said that any woman who does not keep her place (is “uppity”) is actually dangerous (“needs to be watched” and “need to keep an eye on her”), especially when she has her own source of power (“she has this huge fortune”).
Now he’s talking about limiting my daughters, and now he’s got me plumb mad-dog mean. My daughters’ only “place” is that place to which their desires, wills and abilities take them. They are 12, 8 and 3 now, and each has her own inner source of power. My aim is to protect and nurture that source of power until they are grown and can translate it into other strengths for themselves. Get in the way of that aim, you get the mad dog.
In an unintended way, Buchanan was right: Kerry—and other women like her—need to be watched, because they provide great examples for our daughters. I thought this as I watched Kerry give her speech to the convention, breaking from the tradition of candidates’ wives gushing over their hubbies and giving voice to her own ideas about politics and policy. Women like Kerry--regardless of whether we agree with their ideas or politics--show our daughters that they can, indeed, fully partake of life in America. Such examples are helpful counterweights to the countless cultural messages about women minding their places and limiting themselves, because they are women.
That Pat Buchanan is a bigot and an idiot is clear, but I’ll go one step more: He’s a traitor. Keeping women weak, silent and in “their place” (that is, not “uppity”) is a serious threat to the vitality and future of America.
Imagine a football team on which most of the players on the field had to wear handcuffs and shackles. They’d be slaughtered on every play. On our American “team” we have about 143 million females and 138 million males, so Buchanan would limit the play of most of our team. Can we afford that? Glance at the newspaper. The score is not in our favor. If we ask more than half our team to play at any less than full speed, we’re going to get creamed.
My gift to you, America: Three young women with their spines, guts, brains and hearts intact and fully functioning. You’re welcome. Mr. Buchanan, hit the showers.
By Russell King
Dads are a protective bunch. Hurt us and we’ll turn the other cheek; hurt one of our kids and we’ll make “operation shock and awe” look like a picnic in the park. This protective impulse is particularly strong when it comes to our daughters.
Daughters get extra protection probably because we’re still carrying some caveman instincts, but undoubtedly because they face far more threats than do our sons. Men just aren’t beaten up, raped or abandoned as often as women are. Nor do men face a culture that does a good job of removing their spines, guts and brains (men face other sorts of limitations). As a dad, I see part of my role as nurturing in my three daughters strength, courage and intelligence, and protecting these treasurers just as I would protect their hearts and their lives.
Whether your intent is to break one of my daughters’ hearts, harm her body, violate her dignity or restrict who she can be and what she can do, the result will be the same: As Clint Eastwood put it in the movie The Outlaw Josey Wales, “then you gotta get mean. I mean plumb, mad-dog mean.”
I had that mad-dog mean feeling right after the Democratic national convention, when right-wing “celebrity” Pat Buchanan said that it’s OK for the vice president to tell a senator on the Senate floor to go “’moose’ yourself” (see my previous post “It’s not OK to say moose in public” 7/5/04) but somehow not OK—even dangerous--for Teresa Heinz Kerry to tell a reporter to “shove it.”
A bit of context: the vice president used the most foul of obscenities with a senator who told the truth about the vice president’s dirty laundry; Kerry rebuffed, crudely but without obscenity, a harassing reporter from a newspaper that has for years told lies about her.
Buchanan actually said: "Well, an argument between two guys is understandable. But this woman needs to be watched. You know she has this huge fortune and she's uppity and Americans need to keep an eye on her.”
“Uppity.” He said “uppity.” This is the same word white racial bigots used to stick in front of the N word when complaining about black people who wanted to fully partake of life in America. It’s the word that gender bigots (we used to call them chauvinist pigs) now stick in front of the B word when complaining about women who want to fully partake of life in America.
Allow me to translate. What Buchanan said was that because Kerry is a woman—he made the distinction--she must keep in “her place,” meaning beneath men. It’s OK for a man to speak his mind, but not for a woman. It’s OK for a man to defend against an adversary, but not for a woman. It's OK for a man to be tough, but not for a woman.
Buchanan also said that any woman who does not keep her place (is “uppity”) is actually dangerous (“needs to be watched” and “need to keep an eye on her”), especially when she has her own source of power (“she has this huge fortune”).
Now he’s talking about limiting my daughters, and now he’s got me plumb mad-dog mean. My daughters’ only “place” is that place to which their desires, wills and abilities take them. They are 12, 8 and 3 now, and each has her own inner source of power. My aim is to protect and nurture that source of power until they are grown and can translate it into other strengths for themselves. Get in the way of that aim, you get the mad dog.
In an unintended way, Buchanan was right: Kerry—and other women like her—need to be watched, because they provide great examples for our daughters. I thought this as I watched Kerry give her speech to the convention, breaking from the tradition of candidates’ wives gushing over their hubbies and giving voice to her own ideas about politics and policy. Women like Kerry--regardless of whether we agree with their ideas or politics--show our daughters that they can, indeed, fully partake of life in America. Such examples are helpful counterweights to the countless cultural messages about women minding their places and limiting themselves, because they are women.
That Pat Buchanan is a bigot and an idiot is clear, but I’ll go one step more: He’s a traitor. Keeping women weak, silent and in “their place” (that is, not “uppity”) is a serious threat to the vitality and future of America.
Imagine a football team on which most of the players on the field had to wear handcuffs and shackles. They’d be slaughtered on every play. On our American “team” we have about 143 million females and 138 million males, so Buchanan would limit the play of most of our team. Can we afford that? Glance at the newspaper. The score is not in our favor. If we ask more than half our team to play at any less than full speed, we’re going to get creamed.
My gift to you, America: Three young women with their spines, guts, brains and hearts intact and fully functioning. You’re welcome. Mr. Buchanan, hit the showers.
