Spoiled Kids

As a mom of a teenagers, one of my biggest challenges is to convince the kids that they have no real reason to be dissatisfied with their lot. Every time one of them starts with the "I'm depressed" or "Life stinks," I'm right there to disagree. Whether the serious lecture, the sarcastic speech or the rhetorical questions, the points don't change:

1. You have parents in a happy, loving, committed relationship.
2. They love you and do their best for you, listen to you and play with your more than their parents did. (Sorry Mom and Dad, but it's true.)
3. You have siblings who, even with the standard arguments get along with you better than a lot of siblings we know.
4. You have a roof over your head, so much food you can afford to not clean your plate, desert and junk food far too often.
5. You have a good school with teachers that care and kids that, even when snobby, are kinder than many we grew up around.
6. You have computer games, MP3 players, TV and all forms of entertainment in addition to a plethora of other board games, crafts, science kits....
7. Your dad's in a stable job that brings in a good paycheck and gets him home to us, even if not always at a reasonable hour.

It seems to me that the more people have, the easier it is to feel dissatisfied. Now, I've read I'm not the only one to see that. A Generation Tries to Imagine Life Without iPods.

I love the last line in the article:

After my lecture, one young woman walked up to me on her way out and huffed: "What I favor is a radical redistribution of wealth in America." I tried to tell her that America's greatness is a result of our focus on creating wealth, not redistributing it. But it was too late -- she was already tuning in to her iPod.

If it had been me, I would have told her, "OK. empty your wallet and give me your cellphone and iPod so I can hock them and get the money to people in real need." I'll even go one further and find someone who actually believes, despite their impoverished situation, that they are blessed to be alive in this century and this country.

Christmas Suprises: Websites and Wonders

Work on my new website continues at a snail's pace. Right now, we're trying to figure out how to change the colors on the skin--or find a new skin. We're going with something lighter because, as I said, it seems my writing is moving in a somewhat different direction.

In the meantime, people are still looking at the site, and that's led to a terrific Christmas surprise.

Rob has often mentioned to us the childhood friend that saved his life, John Wells. They had been digging in a ditch, making a battleground for GI Joe, when the cave they'd managed collapsed on Rob. His friend, though only eight, dug Rob out, got him to the highway and got them a ride home. (This was on the Air Force Academy.) Rob's parents took him to the hospital, where they discovered one of his ribs had been broken and had sliced his liver to shreds. Rob said one surgeon was ready to give up; the other said, "No. I've seen this in Vietnam." To this day, Rob says two people saved his life: that surgeon and his friend John Wells. He and John lost track of each other, as happens to military brats, but Rob has never forgotten him and has told our children the story many times.

Would you believe that John has often thought of Rob, too? And that he would feel he's the one that owed Rob a debt of gratitude; for my bibliophile husband infected him with a lifelong love of books.

Last week, John found us through my website. Rob shouted with joy: "That's my friend! That's they guy who saved my life!" Me, I'm a sentimental biddy; I still have tears in my eyes just thinking about it. What an incredible gift!

So John, even though I already e-mailed you, I want to say this publicly:

Thank you, thank you, thank you for the gift of my husband. God bless you and Merry Christmas.