Killing Special
Christina Sanantonio
Black Oak Presents
Winter 2009
Some friends and I were recently talking about special things from our childhoods and we realized that most of what we really loved and remembered were not toys or possessions, but experiences. I enjoyed trick or treating, but I loved when my mom painted the giant Pumpkin on our huge round window each Halloween. I enjoyed Christmas and my favorite present of all time was my Big Wheel (with handbrake), but what was really exciting, what was special, was the playing with so many children and listening to family stories. One friend remembered that some of the best memories she had involved taking family hikes.
Do you remember special things from childhood? I remember the excitement of a birthday cake, the rare treat of a trip to Champaign [Illinois] to see a movie, or the ice cream treats in the shape of snowmen and reindeer that my grandmother could buy only at Christmastime. I loved visits with a certain friend because her mother served us white bread, bologna, and processed cheese sandwiches smothered in Miracle Whip, cherry Kool-Aid to drink and Twinkies for dessert. Haute cuisine for a 7 year old. All of those delicious foods were strictly forbidden in my “whole wheat bread and water is good for you” home.
I remember the anticipation of Saturday morning cartoons; the weekend ritual that included rising at dawn on Saturday, watching the blank set until the station finally came on, and savoring every moment until they ended promptly at 12:00pm—not to return until next weekend. These shows in no way resembled the psychedelic frenzy of action and insanity that are many modern cartoons.
We tend to idealize our childhoods, but I think most adults would agree that special events seemed to resonate more in our past in part because of the steady amount of calm and uneventful space that surrounded our lives as children. We existed in what felt like a slower, more cohesive world and our indulgences were only occasional.
I wonder about modern children and what they will remember as special. Is special fading? Are the emotions of joy, wonder, anticipation all dying under the crushing weight of our “have everything instantly” culture?
Amy Dacyczyn, a wonderful writer, told the story of taking her five young children to the ice cream store—a very rare occurrence for a family on a tight budget. Her children quietly debated their flavor choice and then sat in wide-eyed silence—blissfully savoring their junior-sized cones. Other parents, seeing the same level of enjoyment from a junior cone, and wishing to create more happiness, would opt to visit the ice cream shop more. But with frequent exposure, specialness begins to die, and sooner or later the parent finds themselves buying the triple scoop, brownie deluxe sundae with flakes of candied gold leaf in order to elicit the same ‘oohs and ahhs’ from the child. Eventually, with regular trips to get ice cream, even the most deluxe treat become blasé and you wind up with an ice cream-jaded 8 year old. To keep specialness, time and space are necessary between cones.
We are all familiar with over-indulged children. They seem to be everywhere—including in my own home. Remember the television ad for a credit card that told parents, “You want to give them everything…?” It not so subtly conveyed that you must give your children any item they desire to be a good parent, and that their credit card was just the thing to help you succeed. One of the ads even showed a misty-eyed dad handing an elephant off to his small daughter. The image isn’t as farfetched as it may seem. Granted, we aren’t legally allowed to dole out elephants, but we are extravagant in so many equally exorbitant ways: we provide limo service for children’s birthday parties where children are entertained by acts worthy of Las Vegas. We hand out stuffed goodie bags filled not with the trinkets and pieces of candy but more reminiscent of stuffed Christmas stockings.
We have only to watch television to see the popular reality show where witless parents spend tens of thousands on “Sweet 16” parties where their children, all in dire need of immediate Oompa-Loompa intervention, arrive in Cinderella carriages and aim to inspire envy among their peers. We hand teens credit cards to use carte blanche. Instead of allowing children to build a playhouse made of chairs and sheets, we kill their imaginations by giving them $5,000 custom built playhouses.
A recent CNN/TIME poll showed that 68% of parents indicated that their children were “very spoiled.” Yet, we parents behave as if we had no choice or control. Parenting is certainly a difficult job—perhaps more difficult now than ever before. Our children are bombarded with advertising and images urging them to buy and spend. At our house we have long struggled with basketball shoe addictions. Often, the answer has to be “no” because at $125.00 or more per pair, we simply can’t afford them, but also because in our culture teens have become driven consumers with a combined purchasing power of $150 billion per year. I would like my boys to develop some skills to fight affluenza. I don’t want to raise spoiled brats.
I often feel that the culture is a huge, fast moving vehicle and we are being swept along within. We are bombarded with images and shaped by messages over which we feel we have little control.
What happens to children who are over-indulged? Over-indulged children grow into over-indulged young people and later into over-indulged adults who believe rules only apply to others. Over-indulged young people exhibit obnoxious behaviors with superior attitudes, are often unmotivated and appear jaded. What is left when you have seen it all, done it all, and had it all by 16? Not many things will be special for Generation G (G for gimme).
As adults these kids probably won’t be able to tell the difference between needs and wants, will need constant stimulation and entertainment from others, might be deficient in basic life skills, be unable to take responsibility for their own actions, and lack empathy for others.
Education specialist Ada Alden, who helps teachers learn to handle over-indulged students, recently noted, “If you water a plant too much it dies. Even if you are watering it out of too much love, it still dies.” Did you miss that? Nationally, teachers are being trained how to handle overindulged children (and parents).
So what can we, as parents and people who care about families and children, do to cope with the prevailing gimme culture? First, we can give ourselves and our time. The prevailing notion of “quality time” has not benefited children and families. Children need quantity time. Simply sitting with your child while he or she draws or builds with blocks is so meaningful to them.
We can make family rituals—celebrations of events and holidays that don’t involve the giving of things, but sharing of experiences and family stories. We can work together to form a stronger community, building ties with neighbors and friends. We can help our children most by slowing down and finding more quiet time, without rushing, television, or electronics in our hectic lives. We need to allow time and space for special. We can change our culture by simply slowing down and talking with one another.
Christina Sanantonio is an essayist living and working in Central Illinois.
Her hobbies include reading, archaeology, and playing in creeks.
For more of Christina’s reflections, visit
http://christina-thinkingoutloud.blogspot.com
Reproduction of material from any original Blackoakmedia.org pages
without written permission is strictly prohibited.
Copyright 2009 Black Oak Media