Influence

When she was little, Orlaith, her mom and I would get together on Friday nights for something that evolved into "Friday Night Chick Dancing". This always included eating a 'comfort food' dinner--usually pasta based. Then dressing in our PJs and playing music videos--often Riverdance--the Irish dance group--or singing our own versions of Broadway musicals. The beauty was that three generations of fearless females whirled, sung, applauded, danced and vied for center stage--unaware that we were building a tradition delightful enough that 5 year old Orlaith will sometimes call me and ask if we can do "Friday Night Chick Dancing".

One recent Friday night, we gathered and followed the usual format. This time, Orlaith didn't change into her PJs, but rather put on her ballet leotard and various other accoutrement of dance. Into the machine went the Riverdance video, and her mom, on the couch, and I, on the recliner, proceeded to applaud as the 'new Isadora' performed!

Orlaith would pirouette, tap, and leap across the floor with a sweet smile as we, her audience, watched the "Love of the Heart Dancer"--(a stage name she'd invented for herself, two years earlier). But this time was different, she would giggle a shy giggle, and timidly cast her eyes downward. This went on through four or five 'dance' steps.

For the five years we'd been doing this, Orlaith had exhibited only pure Joy at each dance step, certain that her mom and I would applaud and cheer 'Bravo'! So what then, was this new behavior? Why the timidity in place of her normal self-assuredness? She deepened the mystery when she suddenly asked, (in spite of our applause and attentiveness), "Is that OK?"

Is that OK?

IS THAT OK?

What had happened to the certainty of her dance routine? to her ability to count on Mom and me for total acceptance? What had made her suddenly shy and insecure of her ability to 'dazzle' us?

She has begun school this year. Could the Culture already have wrapped its Judgment around the precious heart and soul of this child? Could her need for approval dispel her inherent Dance of Joy? Something had changed....I don't know what exactly, but I know that I was greatly saddened that Friday night. I have cried for the loss of her enchanted self--the one that danced freely. In all my future interactions with Orlaith (and with all children, for that matter) I will remind her and them of their inborn right to Be!

Pretending

We were sitting in my living room--my daughter, my granddaughter and me. Orlaith wanted to watch television, so she asked her mom if she could. Mom agreed and when Orlaith found what she wanted to view, SpongeBob, she asked her mom if she could.

Mom said No.

Orlaith's plaintive cry was, "Well Daddy lets me!"

Not one to take the bait, Melanie answered that she knew that Daddy allowed Orlaith to watch that program but that she didn't. To which Orlaith replied, "Well, I'm pretending you're Daddy!"

Guess who won?

Jewels

Sometimes Life hands me jewels, you know, incidents which shine so brightly I just cannot forget them. I ruminate and then re-tell them so that others may learn from them too. We've just come through a Life Event in our family. A friend, my granddaughter's other grandmother recently passed away.

My granddaughter, Orlaith, is five. Five year olds live in Magic. Everything that happens in life has the potential to be understood in a manner vastly different than the linear world of adults. Her grandmother's passing was just such an event.

Orlaith called me from the car on her mom's cell phone the evening of the family viewing and said, "Críonna, my Granma died."

"I know, SweetiePie, that's why you spent the night on Friday, remember? So that Mommy and Daddy could help Granma with her dying," I replied.

"I know, but Críonna?" she continued, "They put my Granma in a jewelry box."

Tears welled in my eyes at the beauty of that explanation. I humbly offered the mundane, "O Little Bit, they call that jewelry box a coffin."

"Yeah," Orlaith continued, "but Críonna, they cut her legs off. They cut Granma in half!"

The shock of that statement was profound! Five year olds are left to interpret what we've not thought to explain.

"Oh Orlaith, there are two lids to the coffin," I frantically tried to explain. "You must tell Mommy to lift the other top tomorrow and show you that Granma was not cut in half; you will see that her legs are under the closed lid."

With her beautiful ability to move from importance to nonchalance, Orlaith said, "Well, OK Críonna, I just am going home now to see my cats."

Firsts

At my point in life it seems funny to speak of 'Firsts'. But today is the first time that I've posted to my blog. Not only were there no blogs in my earlier life--there was no Internet, there were no computers. There were however, diaries. I'm not quite clear--are blogs the same as diaries?

I'm sitting here smiling because I'm asking a question of.....whom? I guess whoever reads this. OK, so in that way, blogs are unlike diaries. Diaries are for the writer alone (and their younger siblings who may steal them to read.)

Something that amazes me more than blogging is this: while I am typing on this blog, I have a headset on and I am listening to my daughter who is speaking to me from her car on her cell phone! Communication was different during my earlier life. Phones were often attached to the wall and had a cord which limited travelling while talking. Not only that, we had party lines--4-party lines. Don't confuse this with "PAR-TAAAY".

Party lines were telephone lines connecting two or four users. So any time I'd pick up the phone there might be (usually was) someone already on the line who would say disgruntedly, "In Use, please!" If I were very adept at it, I could hang up quickly and very carefully slip the receiver back up and listen to their conversation--not that I ever did, however.

Saturday will be another First for me. On that day my beautiful daughter, Melanie, will celebrate her birthday and we are going to a luncheon at a local coffee shop to enjoy a Poetry Reading. The "First" involves the moment when the organizers provide some Open Mic time. Both my daughter and myself will be reading--my First public reading.

Tune in later to find out how it went!