Sorry I haven’t been able to write much lately…but my problem is that I’ve had to write too much lately…ironic huh?
The people that I work for have radically changed the format of the scope of work that I do for them and therefore, it has involved my having to write chapter after chapter of change and do some pretty deep research to go forward into the next two years worth of contracts. Good thing is…it’s been good to redefine myself and the company, and even better to have narrowed the focus of what I do; and it’s even better that in the face of a 35% budget cut by said company…I still do have a contract. So I can eat…yippie!
But on to more Christmasy things…
I repeated my holiday buying for kids that I do every year, but this time I took some time to look over the tags on the giving tree to more align myself to the preferences of the kids. I know…no fun for you guys as you read about my adventures into the realm of the unknown to buy for kids I’ve never seen. But this year I wanted to make more of a difference so I looked for tags that might align me with children’s wish lists that were more like me.
Careful…I know what you’re thinking. And no…no science gifts!
One of the children’s wish list I picked from was a girl that wanted a guitar for Christmas and as I had a couple laying around doing nothing I decided that I’d pair down my stock in instruments and give them away to people that would enjoy them and play them more than I did. So, off went a rather large gift that included a new set of strings and a Dean Markley chord book. I threw in a capo too since you never know what key a person sings in unless you know them. One of those things only a player of limited vocal ability thinks of... by the way.
Another request was for a midi keyboard of some kind, and since M-Audio has seen fit to put out a rather decent version last year it was an easy buy for me…and I have to say it was hard having it around the house for a few days and not testing it out. I might have to break down and get one for myself…if I have enough spare change after Christmas that is, but I’d only use it to trigger drum sounds anyways.
And the last thing on my kids wish list, which was provided by a friend who caters to youth in need…baby clothes.
I live in a neighborhood that is I guess upscale, an older part of town that has graceful mansions, accompanied by the rest of us in bungalows and cape cods….homes all built in the 1920’s and 30’s with loving hands and remarkably intact to this day, and to the west of our neighborhood is the previous version of where I live…just a little worse for wear. Homes that have mainly been taken over by landlords of indifference or worse, but homes to people none the less.
It’s always amazed me how a street can come to separate a community, but the street of
Six blocks from my house and across that divide is a little Methodist church built in the 1920’s, and within its walls is a children’s ministry that a friend of mine runs year in and year out.
That church provides the kids in the neighborhood a place that is nonjudgmental and more important, a place that they can bring problems to an adult…and get an adult response that is supportive despite the circumstances.
So entered Mary in my life.
My friend Steve had been trying to get me into the program for a while and since it was Christmas I agreed to talking to some kids with special needs…but I never thought I’d be paired up with a sixteen year old young mother to be.
“Mary needs a face…you know…someone that’s honest about the world that awaits her.”
“And I would know something about teen pregnancy?” I asked.
“Well” Steve said, “You wanted to help.”
“What?…I’m supposed to tell her that she’s doomed to poverty?”
“You’re supposed to tell her the truth about her situation and then perform the miracle” Steve said.
Steve walked away and then in walked Mary.
And so I sat down with someone in trouble, someone that I didn’t know from Adam’s first aunt, and someone that I truly didn’t understand.
I had seen teenage pregnancy before…back when I was a teenager and so I knew all the stereotypes that came with the distinction of being “knocked up” when you were in school…but I was surprised at the support that Steve was willing to give this girl…so I caved and Mary and I had an honest conversation about how she got where she was where she was going. And when I say honest…read brutal…because that’s what our first encounter was like.
Neither one of us understood the other…sort of like two aliens coming to terms suppose. And I have to say that I was angry that someone would have put themselves in the position that this young girl had, and it showed.
“So you’re the guy that’s supposed to help me?’ she asked.
“I don’t know, you tell me” I responded.
“You look all the rest of them, just some guy that doesn’t know what I’m going through. What makes you different?”
“Well let’s see…I’ve never been pregnant when I was a teenager…being a man and all, so that’s a good question. So in answer of fact…I know nothing about you except that a friend asked me to help you.”
“And how is a old guy going to help me.”
And I didn’t have an answer.
Speechless.
I was the judgmental asshole that she expected, and she was the idiot kid that I imagined…and for the first encounter that’s how we left it.
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