Cut the Kids in Half

Divorce is a mainstay of the modern American family. Nuclear fission has occurred, and the nuclear family has split and formed other quickly decaying elements. What has caused it? I have my own thoughts about it, but I’m no expert in this, so feel free to disagree.

Maybe part of the problem is that our culture is so saturated with a “what-I-want, when-I-want” mentality. When things start to go awry, people just decide to start over somewhere else because the discomfort of arguing is too much for them. Or perhaps it’s just a natural result of societal inhibitions being at an all time low. It’s just more socially acceptable to divorce your partner, so maybe these numbers are natural for a culture such as ours. Either way you slice it, it’s happening in record numbers.

Who suffers? Obviously the two partners suffer a lot of heartbreak and general anguish. But more than this, the children suffer. They are literally torn in two, divided between their parents, and oftentimes placed in situations where they must choose one parent or the other. They are used as leverage, pawns in a bloody game of chess. And even while this is going on, existential quandaries beset them. “If my parents think that they were not meant to be together, then maybe I’m not supposed to be alive. If their marriage is a mistake, maybe I’m a mistake,” they might think.

The way that children are brought up will have to shift radically if the current trend of divorce is going to continue. Children tied to one, or even worse—neither, parent will go through a different process of socialization than kids with two connected parents. And this, in turn, will lead to a generation of children that are nothing like our generation. I’m not saying that a shift is bad, just that we need to be ready in case it occurs.

So think deeply, folks. Your decisions affect more than just you. I’ve included this Radiohead performance to get us all thinking.

The Mall

People flood through the gates, a glass door dam that burst hundreds of years ago when the first advertisement ran in a local newsletter. My wife and I are searching for a skirt that will match her favorite top; she has a summer work picnic to look nice for, and I want to show my support by giving my opinion on colors.

We have to wade through the food court to get into the managerie of shops. Almost instinctively, legions of shoppers shove all manner of fried, refried, and “diet” foods into their gullet.  I stand at a distance for fear that if I get too close my arm will be dragged in and bitten off.

When we arrive at our destination, I’m greeted by a concoction of five different perfumes, stinging the hairs off of my nostrils. The newest marketing phrase is etched on every window and free wall space: Be a slut for him. Little girls clutch to their mother’s hands while the parents sift through bins of underwear. The thin pink lace that makes up the core of each piece has no more than a few square inches of fabric to keep it together. The little girls, wide-eyed, watch their mothers fawn over crotchless panties while taking in the bombardment of near-nude women arrayed around them. If there is a more direct method of convincing a child of what her goal in life should be, I haven’t seen it. Something is wrong here. Our meager sex education can’t keep up with this hyper-sexualization that occurs every time children are in earshot of advertisements.

Who’s fault is this? Well, in a way, all of us are to blame. Men have their hand in it; they’ve encouraged women to take off more and more of their clothing in order to appease the male sexual appetite. But the women have a hand in it as well; they’ve believed that the men would care about them if only they bared just a bit more skin. It’s a vicious cycle that has left women self-conscious, doing everything they can to please someone else’s eyes, and it has left men hollow, taking in every image they see without a hint of remorse or care.

I’m reminded of a surprisingly cheery moment in the Halloween special of one of my favorite series: the Simpsons. After the advertisements of Springfield gain their sentience and begin ransacking the city, Lisa and Paul Anka team up to set things right. They begin singing a (wonderfully catchy) chorus of, “Just don’t look / just don’t look,” for all the residents of Springfield. Their idea is, if no one pays attention to the advertisements, they’ll lose their power.

Can we stop letting advertisements take control of us? I’m honestly not sure. But we sure as hell can try.

Paying Attention

Flannery O’Connor is a masterful short story writer. I stumbled upon this quote while reading David Dark’s Everyday Apocalypse:

“The black sky was underpinned with long silver streaks that looked like scaffolding and depth on depth behind it were thousands of stars that all seemed to be moving very slowly as if they were about some vast construction work that involved the whole order of the universe and would take all time to complete. No one was paying attention to the sky.” -Flannery O’Connor, Wise Blood

Eyes

It’s 7:30 AM. I’ve just arrived at work and there are 25 new emails in my inbox. I rush to the workroom and start a pot of coffee that will last me until 10:00. All the while I’m hammering away emails on my iPhone. I’m making copies, listening to an old Springsteen standard, and going over in my head how many business expenses will fit on my next requisition.

An IM window blinks on my laptop while I scan a blog about the technological context of India. By the time 11:00 AM gets here, I’ve interacted with at least one hundred people without ever opening my mouth. I’m a student of the global forum of information, and I pop my head into class every few seconds, only to blink and forget everything the professor said. But why bother, when the professors are on a moving sidewalk and don’t take the time to write anything on the board?

In one day I can take in 3,000 Google ads without ever thinking twice about what they say. We’ve become trained to ignore, all the while tangentially focusing on the few words that actually are of use to us. That’s what it all comes down to: use. I only focus on what is useful to me, and every bit of information is currency for me to trade with someone else. We’re buying and selling away every piece of this world, typing it up, copying it, and hawking it along with a subscription to our newsletter.

Focus on something today. Focus on something without being distracted by a blinking light or by another “more useful” alternative. Be distracted by reality for a second.

Fingers

We can reach out and touch anything we want. At a moment’s notice I can curl up in bed with a screen in my hand, chatting it up with a 23 year-old waitress in China. I can send out five business emails while I urinate. I can buy my wife flowers by flicking my fingers over a plasticine portrait of cheap petunias.

But what can I not do?

I can’t listen to the Chinese woman breathe. I can’t notice how her eyes look down every time she mentions her husband. I can’t shake my business partner’s hand, or look directly in the eyes of the family I sold furniture suite to. I can’t labor over each flower in the pot, hefting them to see how they might hold up in that hallway windowsill where she keeps a fresh batch every week.

My fingers can touch anything they want, but can they feel?

Ears

Sound engulfs everyone in the modern world. A headphone perches on our ear while we do our best to focus on those TPS reports that have to be done by 3. Tiny, fuzzed-out speakers buzz a bit of the Rolling Stones while we type out another email informing the latest customer with a complaint that his phone was never meant to withstand the temperature of a freezer, and thus your company can’t be held responsible. Artists crank up the volume on their Run DMC before throwing another bucket of paint at the wall.

What if choruses of staccato blips and bass thumps accompanied St. Augustine as he penned his Confessions? What if Caesar had Leonard Cohen moaning in the background as he coughed up blood from Brutus’ blade? Would they have been able to hear the gears of the world moving then, or would they be more deaf than ever?

Would we be able to listen more if we heard less? Are we deaf?