Thursday, June 23, 2005
American dads take on video violence
By Russell King
Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned? Wait until you see the butt-whoopin’ handed out by a ticked-off dad who thinks his kids are threatened. Corporate America had better watch out. The pimps in designer suits are getting rich selling culture-crap to our kids; some dads are fixin’ to fight back. I almost feel sorry for the suits.
Ronald Moten, a single dad from a hard-scrabble neighborhood of Washington D.C., has picketed local chain stores that sell violent video games, and protested outside the Manhattan headquarters of the makers of "Grand Theft Auto," a game known for its extremely violent content. Not content to stop there, he has formed Peaceaholics, which mentors troubled youth.
He's also convinced the mayor of the nation's capital and most of its council members to back legislation that would ban kid sales of "mature" rated games like Grand Theft Auto, Mortal Kombat, and Postal 2.
The bill’s backers say it would protect children the same way laws shield them from pornography. If adopted, a store that sells mature and adult-only games to minors could lose its business license and face a fine of as much as $10,000.
There are First Amendment problems with such a bill, and it’s likely that it would be struck down in court of it passes, but that doesn’t deter its supporters. They say that the legislative and court efforts will increase awareness among parents about the problem.
Moten is just one of a growing band of parents worried about the games children are playing, angry that stores and video game creators aren't taking more responsibility and concerned that most parents are unaware of the content in these games.
Across the country, in Olympia, Wash., 60-year-old Howard Winkler, the grandfather of five young boys, joined the movement when he picked up a protest sign for the first time in his life 18 months ago.
Winkler first learned about the graphic content of some of the games at a parenting seminar that showed some graphic snippets. He was so shocked he decided to do something about it. He and a few friends made signs and picketed outside the local Toys "R" Us store, which, like most other major stores, now says it cards kid buyers at the check-out counter. Enforcement, however, has been found to be erratic at many retailers.
These days, Winkler is focusing on parents and grandparents. He joined his community's "Game Smart" speakers' bureau and so far he's addressed about 1,000 parents and grandparents about the need to learn exactly what "games" their children are playing.
There is no hard evidence to tag violent video games as a cause of violent behavior in children, but there is a growing gut feeling that’s got some dads pretty uncomfortable. Moten says he constantly hears kids at the city's juvenile detention facility blame violent games for their law-breaking. Of course, what kid doesn’t look for a handy scapegoat when caught?
On the other hand, only the most delusional of fools would argue that our children’s perceptions, emotions and values are not affected – I’d say distorted, even perverted – by the barrage of twisted images and messages from the “kid culture” of video games, music videos, movies, radio, magazines, cable television and even some retail stores.
American dads and moms are right to be concerned and an obligation to fight back.
While I applaud the movement’s parental instincts and willingness to do something more than gripe about the depths to which our kid culture has sunk, I’m not sure it’s a bandwagon on which I want to jump. Not just yet. I’ll have to watch and learn more about it.
I’m all for informed parenting and informed buying (in this case, of video games), but I’m not for censorship. I’m not in favor of trying to stop the making, selling or buying of these games, but I know I’ve been blindsided a couple of times by packaging that is more innocent than the product.
The other place I see trouble like this is in movie ratings. There’s been a remarkable downgrading of the violence, foul language and “mature” scenes, so that what we used to expect only in an R-rated film now shows up in PG-13, and PG-13 material creeps into PG-movies. I don’t even trust a G rating any more.
Right now, I don’t see any meaningful alternative to actually watching the movies and playing the games, so we know what sort of garbage is being fed to our kids. That means we may have to rent the movies and games before deciding whether to buy them for our families. Costly, time-consuming and difficult, I know.
Nobody said good parenting was cheap, quick or easy.
Note: If you've enjoyed reading American Dad, you can show your appreciation by sending a donation to one of the three places listed here. I have good friends who are doing exceptionally good things at each of these places. Thanks! Good Shepherd Lutheran Church ELCA, 5701 Raymond Rd., Madison, WI 53711 St. John's Lutheran Church, N3882 County Highway KK, Weyauwega, WI 54983-9736 Trinity Lutheran Church, 3 S 460 Curtis Avenue, Warrenville, IL 60555
By Russell King
Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned? Wait until you see the butt-whoopin’ handed out by a ticked-off dad who thinks his kids are threatened. Corporate America had better watch out. The pimps in designer suits are getting rich selling culture-crap to our kids; some dads are fixin’ to fight back. I almost feel sorry for the suits.
Ronald Moten, a single dad from a hard-scrabble neighborhood of Washington D.C., has picketed local chain stores that sell violent video games, and protested outside the Manhattan headquarters of the makers of "Grand Theft Auto," a game known for its extremely violent content. Not content to stop there, he has formed Peaceaholics, which mentors troubled youth.
He's also convinced the mayor of the nation's capital and most of its council members to back legislation that would ban kid sales of "mature" rated games like Grand Theft Auto, Mortal Kombat, and Postal 2.
The bill’s backers say it would protect children the same way laws shield them from pornography. If adopted, a store that sells mature and adult-only games to minors could lose its business license and face a fine of as much as $10,000.
There are First Amendment problems with such a bill, and it’s likely that it would be struck down in court of it passes, but that doesn’t deter its supporters. They say that the legislative and court efforts will increase awareness among parents about the problem.
Moten is just one of a growing band of parents worried about the games children are playing, angry that stores and video game creators aren't taking more responsibility and concerned that most parents are unaware of the content in these games.
Across the country, in Olympia, Wash., 60-year-old Howard Winkler, the grandfather of five young boys, joined the movement when he picked up a protest sign for the first time in his life 18 months ago.
Winkler first learned about the graphic content of some of the games at a parenting seminar that showed some graphic snippets. He was so shocked he decided to do something about it. He and a few friends made signs and picketed outside the local Toys "R" Us store, which, like most other major stores, now says it cards kid buyers at the check-out counter. Enforcement, however, has been found to be erratic at many retailers.
These days, Winkler is focusing on parents and grandparents. He joined his community's "Game Smart" speakers' bureau and so far he's addressed about 1,000 parents and grandparents about the need to learn exactly what "games" their children are playing.
There is no hard evidence to tag violent video games as a cause of violent behavior in children, but there is a growing gut feeling that’s got some dads pretty uncomfortable. Moten says he constantly hears kids at the city's juvenile detention facility blame violent games for their law-breaking. Of course, what kid doesn’t look for a handy scapegoat when caught?
On the other hand, only the most delusional of fools would argue that our children’s perceptions, emotions and values are not affected – I’d say distorted, even perverted – by the barrage of twisted images and messages from the “kid culture” of video games, music videos, movies, radio, magazines, cable television and even some retail stores.
American dads and moms are right to be concerned and an obligation to fight back.
While I applaud the movement’s parental instincts and willingness to do something more than gripe about the depths to which our kid culture has sunk, I’m not sure it’s a bandwagon on which I want to jump. Not just yet. I’ll have to watch and learn more about it.
I’m all for informed parenting and informed buying (in this case, of video games), but I’m not for censorship. I’m not in favor of trying to stop the making, selling or buying of these games, but I know I’ve been blindsided a couple of times by packaging that is more innocent than the product.
The other place I see trouble like this is in movie ratings. There’s been a remarkable downgrading of the violence, foul language and “mature” scenes, so that what we used to expect only in an R-rated film now shows up in PG-13, and PG-13 material creeps into PG-movies. I don’t even trust a G rating any more.
Right now, I don’t see any meaningful alternative to actually watching the movies and playing the games, so we know what sort of garbage is being fed to our kids. That means we may have to rent the movies and games before deciding whether to buy them for our families. Costly, time-consuming and difficult, I know.
Nobody said good parenting was cheap, quick or easy.
Note: If you've enjoyed reading American Dad, you can show your appreciation by sending a donation to one of the three places listed here. I have good friends who are doing exceptionally good things at each of these places. Thanks! Good Shepherd Lutheran Church ELCA, 5701 Raymond Rd., Madison, WI 53711 St. John's Lutheran Church, N3882 County Highway KK, Weyauwega, WI 54983-9736 Trinity Lutheran Church, 3 S 460 Curtis Avenue, Warrenville, IL 60555
Tuesday, June 07, 2005
Buy the lemonade and don't ask for change
I was so moved by this story, written by Jesse Kornbluth on his blog, that I had to share it with you here. Enjoy. --Russ
We don't want to say goodbye
We don't want to feel that empty
But it's time to face the dawn head on
When there's something in the wind
When the days go getting shorter
And the nights run cold and clear down here
We'll take each new day to give what we need to do our part
While we're learning how to live with a lifelong broken heart
-- Rodney Crowell, "Adam's Song," written for the funeral of a friend's 8-year-old-son, on Fate's Right Hand
You have a kid, everything changes. Especially your sense of proportion. Something bad happens--a career setback, a personal betrayal, whatever--and it doesn't bother you the way it used to. "It's not a child in the hospital," you say. Alexandra "Alex" Scott was a child in the hospital. She couldn't have had it worse--just before her first birthday, she was diagnosed with neuroblastoma, a childhood cancer generally confined to the abdomen. When she was four, she decided she wanted to help her doctors. The way to do that, she said, was to give them money so they could look for a cure.
She didn't have any money. But she'd get it, she said. She'd have a lemonade stand. Her mother told her that, a 50 cents a cup, she couldn't expect to make much money. Alex sold $2,000 worth of lemonade. She donated it to the hospital.
Two years passed. Alex was now 6 and living in Philadelphia. Once again, she started a lemonade stand. This time, many people didn't give her coins--they pushed bills at her. And they didn't ask for change.
She made $12,000. And, because she had learned that kids get many kinds of tumors, she decided the money should go for research of all pediatric cancers.
When she was 7 years old, she was allowed to set up a stand at a Philadelphia 76ers game. The team was so impressed with her that the players named Alex a "hometown hero." Volvo sent her a $20,000 check. She appeared on "Oprah" and the "Today" show. And she raised about $1.6 million.
And then on August 1, 2004, Alex Scott died. She was 8 years old.
Alex's parents, Liz and Jay Scott, have three other children who can certainly benefit from their attention. But they have not considered phasing out the movement that Alex's Lemonade Stand has become. It is just that now, for the first time, they're doing it in Alex's memory.
This weekend (June l0-12) is the kickoff of a summerlong campaign. The Scotts hope there will be lemonade stands across America. By summer's end, they hope to raise $5 million for cancer research.
There's a website that tells you how to make your own lemonade stand and help the cause of pediatric cancer research: Alexslemonade.com.
At bookstores and online booksellers, there's a kit--Alex's Lemonade Stand: Raise Money to Benefit Alex's Lemonade Stand Fund--that provides tips on planning lemonade stand, stickers, posters, a lemon squeezer and flyers.
And, for kids 4 to 8, there's a book--Alex and the Amazing Lemonade Stand--that tells Alex's story. It was published while Alex was still alive and is, therefore, relentlessly upbeat.
If you see a kid this weekend--or anytime this summer--behind a lemonade stand with Alex's name on it, please stop and give what feels right. There are so few things we can do that are effective, fewer that are angelic. This is one of them.
I was so moved by this story, written by Jesse Kornbluth on his blog, that I had to share it with you here. Enjoy. --Russ
We don't want to say goodbye
We don't want to feel that empty
But it's time to face the dawn head on
When there's something in the wind
When the days go getting shorter
And the nights run cold and clear down here
We'll take each new day to give what we need to do our part
While we're learning how to live with a lifelong broken heart
-- Rodney Crowell, "Adam's Song," written for the funeral of a friend's 8-year-old-son, on Fate's Right Hand
You have a kid, everything changes. Especially your sense of proportion. Something bad happens--a career setback, a personal betrayal, whatever--and it doesn't bother you the way it used to. "It's not a child in the hospital," you say. Alexandra "Alex" Scott was a child in the hospital. She couldn't have had it worse--just before her first birthday, she was diagnosed with neuroblastoma, a childhood cancer generally confined to the abdomen. When she was four, she decided she wanted to help her doctors. The way to do that, she said, was to give them money so they could look for a cure.
She didn't have any money. But she'd get it, she said. She'd have a lemonade stand. Her mother told her that, a 50 cents a cup, she couldn't expect to make much money. Alex sold $2,000 worth of lemonade. She donated it to the hospital.
Two years passed. Alex was now 6 and living in Philadelphia. Once again, she started a lemonade stand. This time, many people didn't give her coins--they pushed bills at her. And they didn't ask for change.
She made $12,000. And, because she had learned that kids get many kinds of tumors, she decided the money should go for research of all pediatric cancers.
When she was 7 years old, she was allowed to set up a stand at a Philadelphia 76ers game. The team was so impressed with her that the players named Alex a "hometown hero." Volvo sent her a $20,000 check. She appeared on "Oprah" and the "Today" show. And she raised about $1.6 million.
And then on August 1, 2004, Alex Scott died. She was 8 years old.
Alex's parents, Liz and Jay Scott, have three other children who can certainly benefit from their attention. But they have not considered phasing out the movement that Alex's Lemonade Stand has become. It is just that now, for the first time, they're doing it in Alex's memory.
This weekend (June l0-12) is the kickoff of a summerlong campaign. The Scotts hope there will be lemonade stands across America. By summer's end, they hope to raise $5 million for cancer research.
There's a website that tells you how to make your own lemonade stand and help the cause of pediatric cancer research: Alexslemonade.com.
At bookstores and online booksellers, there's a kit--Alex's Lemonade Stand: Raise Money to Benefit Alex's Lemonade Stand Fund--that provides tips on planning lemonade stand, stickers, posters, a lemon squeezer and flyers.
And, for kids 4 to 8, there's a book--Alex and the Amazing Lemonade Stand--that tells Alex's story. It was published while Alex was still alive and is, therefore, relentlessly upbeat.
If you see a kid this weekend--or anytime this summer--behind a lemonade stand with Alex's name on it, please stop and give what feels right. There are so few things we can do that are effective, fewer that are angelic. This is one of them.
Monday, June 06, 2005
A scenic detour on the path of an American Dad
By Russell King
Some times, in the life of an American Dad, the path toward helping your kids find their way to adulthood takes a quick loop back to treasured moments you thought were gone. Sometimes the detour lets you glimpse some possibilities to come.
Danny, when he was just a couple of years old, practiced being like me. I’d laugh at something, and he’d laugh, changing the rhythm or pitch to get his laugh to sound more like mine. I talk to someone and catch him mirroring my gestures and expressions. I savored those moments because I figured if a son wants to be like his daddy, he must think pretty highly of his daddy.
Over the years, those moments of father-son identification came less often. Healthy growth requires children to separate from their parents enough to develop their own identities. They start out thinking we are gods, but all too soon they find our feet of clay. First they resent our being human, then, if we’re lucky, they forgive us. If we are very lucky, they come full circle and find a grownup way of honoring us. Maybe, just maybe, they learn to love us for who we are, flaws and all.
Of course, it only works if we return the favor. We have to forgive them for not remaining our sawed-off sources of absolute adoration, adulation and admiration. We must love them for who they become, flaws and all.
I hope my children will reach adulthood prepared to embrace the world on their own terms, but still loving their old man. I also hope that, after I am gone, they will be able to live long, full lives -- still loving the memory of their old man. In the meantime, I think it’s OK to both celebrate the signs of their growing independence and cherish the tug of the family tie.
Danny is now Dan, a young man of 17 years who cuts a wide wake through the waters of life, which I take as a good thing, most of the time. I confess there have been times over the past five years when I’ve looked into his eyes and wondered “Who the heck are you? and “How do I get Danny back?” I’m sure he he’s been looking back at me and thinking “Get a clue, relic” and “Get out of my face you suburban fossil.” There are some tough times in the teen years.
Even so, the path does loop back now and then. I’m a recreational weight-lifter, and Dan took to the pastime with a passion as soon as he was old enough to enter the gym. The bench press has always been my favorite exercise (achieving the goal of lifting, just once, 500 lbs.), and Dan took to that, too. A few months ago, he entered a strength tournament hosted by the state high school athletic association, competed in the middle-weight class (although at a chiseled 145 lbs, he’s only a feather-weight) and bench-pressed his way to first place (lifting 260 lbs.).
As his dad, I was proud of what Dan’s accomplishment said of both his tie to me and his independence. Weight-lifting gives us shared times, shared experiences and even shared jargon, but the drive, the work, the sweat, the pain endured that earned him that moment of victory were all his. When he looked up at the weight and put his hands on the barbell, he was all on his own. When he pushed the weight toward the ceiling, his dad could not help. When the cheers from his peers filled the gym, all the glory was his.
After his competitors and friends had finished with their congratulations, Dan said to one of them, “Some day, I’m going to be as strong as my dad.”
We’ve talked about applying the discipline of weight-lifting to parts of life that really matter. We’ve talked about the difference between physical strength and inner strength. We’ve talked about the nature of real strength: the kind you call on to be your best self when it’s so much easier to be your lesser self; the kind you use to remain true to yourself when it’s so much easer to go along to get along; the kind you depend on to help you do right, even knowing the cost will be high. We’ve talked about how peace, mercy and love require infinitely more strength than violence, vengeance and venom.
We’ll talk again. And some day, I hope, he’s going to be stronger than his dad.
Note: If you've enjoyed reading American Dad, you can show your appreciation by sending a donation to one of the three places listed here. I have good friends who are doing exceptionally good things at each of these places. Thanks! Good Shepherd Lutheran Church ELCA, 5701 Raymond Rd., Madison, WI 53711 St. John's Lutheran Church, N3882 County Highway KK, Weyauwega, WI 54983-9736 Trinity Lutheran Church, 3 S 460 Curtis Avenue, Warrenville, IL 60555
By Russell King
Some times, in the life of an American Dad, the path toward helping your kids find their way to adulthood takes a quick loop back to treasured moments you thought were gone. Sometimes the detour lets you glimpse some possibilities to come.
Danny, when he was just a couple of years old, practiced being like me. I’d laugh at something, and he’d laugh, changing the rhythm or pitch to get his laugh to sound more like mine. I talk to someone and catch him mirroring my gestures and expressions. I savored those moments because I figured if a son wants to be like his daddy, he must think pretty highly of his daddy.
Over the years, those moments of father-son identification came less often. Healthy growth requires children to separate from their parents enough to develop their own identities. They start out thinking we are gods, but all too soon they find our feet of clay. First they resent our being human, then, if we’re lucky, they forgive us. If we are very lucky, they come full circle and find a grownup way of honoring us. Maybe, just maybe, they learn to love us for who we are, flaws and all.
Of course, it only works if we return the favor. We have to forgive them for not remaining our sawed-off sources of absolute adoration, adulation and admiration. We must love them for who they become, flaws and all.
I hope my children will reach adulthood prepared to embrace the world on their own terms, but still loving their old man. I also hope that, after I am gone, they will be able to live long, full lives -- still loving the memory of their old man. In the meantime, I think it’s OK to both celebrate the signs of their growing independence and cherish the tug of the family tie.
Danny is now Dan, a young man of 17 years who cuts a wide wake through the waters of life, which I take as a good thing, most of the time. I confess there have been times over the past five years when I’ve looked into his eyes and wondered “Who the heck are you? and “How do I get Danny back?” I’m sure he he’s been looking back at me and thinking “Get a clue, relic” and “Get out of my face you suburban fossil.” There are some tough times in the teen years.
Even so, the path does loop back now and then. I’m a recreational weight-lifter, and Dan took to the pastime with a passion as soon as he was old enough to enter the gym. The bench press has always been my favorite exercise (achieving the goal of lifting, just once, 500 lbs.), and Dan took to that, too. A few months ago, he entered a strength tournament hosted by the state high school athletic association, competed in the middle-weight class (although at a chiseled 145 lbs, he’s only a feather-weight) and bench-pressed his way to first place (lifting 260 lbs.).
As his dad, I was proud of what Dan’s accomplishment said of both his tie to me and his independence. Weight-lifting gives us shared times, shared experiences and even shared jargon, but the drive, the work, the sweat, the pain endured that earned him that moment of victory were all his. When he looked up at the weight and put his hands on the barbell, he was all on his own. When he pushed the weight toward the ceiling, his dad could not help. When the cheers from his peers filled the gym, all the glory was his.
After his competitors and friends had finished with their congratulations, Dan said to one of them, “Some day, I’m going to be as strong as my dad.”
We’ve talked about applying the discipline of weight-lifting to parts of life that really matter. We’ve talked about the difference between physical strength and inner strength. We’ve talked about the nature of real strength: the kind you call on to be your best self when it’s so much easier to be your lesser self; the kind you use to remain true to yourself when it’s so much easer to go along to get along; the kind you depend on to help you do right, even knowing the cost will be high. We’ve talked about how peace, mercy and love require infinitely more strength than violence, vengeance and venom.
We’ll talk again. And some day, I hope, he’s going to be stronger than his dad.
Note: If you've enjoyed reading American Dad, you can show your appreciation by sending a donation to one of the three places listed here. I have good friends who are doing exceptionally good things at each of these places. Thanks! Good Shepherd Lutheran Church ELCA, 5701 Raymond Rd., Madison, WI 53711 St. John's Lutheran Church, N3882 County Highway KK, Weyauwega, WI 54983-9736 Trinity Lutheran Church, 3 S 460 Curtis Avenue, Warrenville, IL 60555
