Just another normal day

For most of us, the holidays are a time of celebration and joy. There are presents and fun time with family, good food and the holiday specials we wait a whole year to watch. Charlie Brown Christmas, Rugrats Hanukkah, and of course, for us rabblerousers, Grandma Got Run Over By a Reindeer. Those of us who get to enjoy this sort of Norman Rockwell scene often spend time bitching about the lead up of the get-together. Who's doing what? What am I going to buy? Will Mom make her famous sweet potato pie? Do I have to spend time with so and so again? The list of gripes goes from not-so-bad to downright ugly as the holidays draw nearer. But when we get together, something magical happens--even if we do have to endure Aunt Bertha's diatribe on her irritable bowel. We drop the shit and enjoy each other. Because even though we possess the capacity to pule incessantly about our loved ones and will on occasion, malign them, a small part of us recognizes that tomorrow isn't guaranteed. We may not get to bitch about the feeble jello salad that Grandma always makes because she may not be with us next year. No matter how hard we try to be stupid, part of us never fails to admit to human frailty, whether we'll admit it aloud or not.

Today, I was fortunate to work. I say fortunate because I know there are still people out there desperate for a fulfilling job. I spent my day with a bunch of elementary students who've suffered more hurt than I ever did at their age, and probably ever will in my lifetime. These were the underprivileged kids. The ones who will get nothing for Christmas, who never had or will have a birthday party. These are the kids who go to school because it is the safest place in the world for them to be. They weep when school is out because in one fell swoop, they lose contact with their friends and people who genuinely care about them. They go from having a warm place to spend a couple hours to not knowing if they will eat from one day to the next.

It's not like my old school--where there were one or two lower income families. It is the ENTIRE school. For the majority of the year, these kids don't know the difference between their status and anyone else's because they are all on a level playing field. But when gift-centric holidays roll around, their world collides with ours. Blame this on the commercialization of the holidays, if you like. Ad campaigns step up with the sole purpose of making us think we need things we don't even want. All of a sudden, credit limits are raised, encouraging us to spend, spend, spend. Meanwhile, the stores scream buy, buy, buy. It's a fucking nightmare.

Today, the world looks normal for most of us. Depending on where we are, we may be facing a mound of snow to shovel or a healing dip in the ocean, or maybe just a nice steady rain. For some of the kids I met today, I have to wonder when the world will ever look normal again. How do you recover when a parent decides life is so not worth it that they attempt a terrible suicide? When you watch that person function because life support wills it so? When life support is cut off? How do you recover when you see one parent kill the other? When your hallway is stained with Mommy's or Daddy's blood? How the hell is life supposed to look normal to you? How do these kids survive? I'm barely able to move, and all I had to do was hear about it. My life will continue--karate, writing, talking with friends. Normal. Makes you think, doesn't it? As sure as I am typing away at this blog, I know that some of these children will survive and become amazing people because they've learned what real adversity is. Sadly, some will not. They will repeat the mistakes of their parents. Heartache will spill into heartache, and twenty years from now, another substitute teacher will lament their loss.