On modern zoo animals

I've seen the statistics, read the stories, but in my own peculiar parallel universe, it really hasn't sunk in, even though I've interacted with such people time and again.  It was the tourists that did it.  I've seen tourists in droves, I've been one myself, but you expect them on cruise ships and at airports and in tourist towns, but you really don't expect to see them at the sale barn.  For you city slickers, a 'sale barn' is the regional facility wherein livestock (pigs, cattle, horses, sheep, goats, and the occasional llama) are bought and sold.  I grew up in a farming family and eventually made it my career; 4-H and FFA were my preferred extracurricular activities (both youth agricultural organizations).  Though I found it a little strange that the state zoo now hosts an actual milking parlor and keeps a small herd of dairy cattle, I merely smiled at the incongruous thought and went about my business.  Then years later, I'm up to my eyeballs in paperwork and wondering how long the sale is going to last when a couple approaches, asking after the daily schedule.  They had come merely to watch something that they've never before seen or encountered or even really considered.  Cattle sales are certainly interesting events, and a favorite gathering place for the locals, but I had never before considered one a spectator sport.

But it seems everyone is far more familiar with 'lions and tigers and bears,' than they are with domestic livestock.  Thanks to nature shows and zoos and such, these wild beauties are far more familiar than the ever so prosaic cow.  The majority of modern westerners live in urban areas, many with such animal parks, but very few have first hand experience with cattle or swine.  The tiger and panda are almost mundane, but the cow has become mysterious, exotic, and fascinating.  It was a perspective I had never truly considered.  Recently, there have been a series of stories in the news about folks trampled, gored, and mauled by animals at various national parks in an attempt to 'get close to nature' or get a picture with the animal.  I hardly understood how it could happen, but now it makes sense.  The dancing, singing, talking animals of the cinema are what people, personally unexposed to animals save perhaps the family dog or the lion at the zoo, unconsciously consider to be normal.  Of course the cute, shaggy bison wouldn't hurt anyone, why it looks just like grandma's pug!  They don't understand that the domestic cow is dangerous, let alone that its wild cousin is even more deadly to the unwary.

This summer I was at a national park and there were two signs posted in the restrooms alone, saying that bison are dangerous, keep your distance, now I understand why when I thought it was overkill and should be common sense!  It is certainly a strange world where wildlife is more familiar than our domestic species, farm animals are now an exotic attraction at the local zoo, and the average Joe thinks he innately has the skill of the 'dog whisperer' with even the most feral of animals because that's all he's seen on TV and at the movies since he was a kid.  'Old Yeller' and 'The Yearling,' are not what we think of any longer when it comes to classic animal movies, and this move away from realism, while cute and heartwarming, does have its consequences when it is our only conception of what animals are and aren't.  Maybe sales barn tourism has a future after all?

Slow learner

My son has two mommies: one by birth and one by adoption.  Now every adoption tale is different, but I am only just beginning to understand that word, though it has been nearly seven years since our own tale began.  My own childhood/family was tragic and I never understood either the word love, family, parent, or marriage until experience with my own taught me what my parents and sibling could not.  And only recently have I begun to understand what it means to be 'adopted as sons' into the family of God, what it is the Church is supposed to be, how it is we shall have 'mothers and father, brothers and sisters, children,' even though we perhaps have none on this earth.  I once mentally compared the relationship between 'birth relatives' and the adoptive family to the awkwardness found between divorce riddled relations, but I was wrong, utterly.  In my experience, it is much more like a marriage: bringing together two disparate clans, for better or for worse.  Each family has its own dynamics and character and experience, certainly, as each marriage is an individual entity, with no two alike, but you are uniting two family units, no matter if they choose to be close or estranged, friends or strangers.

Strangely, I did not just find a son, but have inherited a sister in his mother and a set of loving grandparents besides, all of us united by our love for this little boy and our determination to do what is best for him, rather than what seems most satisfying to ourselves at the time (the heart of good parenting and the very meaning of love).  It hasn't been easy, there have been struggles and certainly awkwardness over the years, but perseverance, patience, prayer, and persistence have paid off and everyone has benefited thereby, most especially said little boy, just like any marriage, or even relationship.  Each person must decide their own level of interest and involvement in such a circumstance, certainly, but hopefully such decisions are made for the benefit of the child rather than for more selfish or expedient motives.

And I've been adopted, I am as much a part of the Church (God's family) as this little boy, unrelated by blood, is an indelible part of our family.  And all those crazy, disparate, wonderful, broken people are my aunts and cousins and sisters and kids, just like in earthly families where you don't get to choose your relatives but must learn to live together peaceably.  Some will think me mad, that those not related by blood can share such a bond, save by 'romantic love,' but my blood relatives could care less about me and mine, but I've a whole host of 'spiritual' relatives that love me to pieces, my little boy's biological family included.  Adoption, like the Church and the world in general, is messy, hard, heartbreaking, and beautiful, but well worth the effort.

The true root of the 'mommy wars?'

Does the so-called 'mommy wars' exist outside of social media?  Are mothers truly at war with one another?  To stay at home or work, cloth or disposable diapers, breastfeeding versus formula, to homeschool or not, the anti vaccine crowd, spanking or not, helicopter versus free range…it goes on and on, but is all this angst and argument, controversy and shaming really accomplishing anything?  Or is it that we are so uncomfortable in our own skins and have too much idle time in which to mull over our uncertainty that we need to defend our way of doing things as the only right way, as if any other way of even thinking about raising one's kids is akin to neglect, if not outright abuse?

For most of history, mothers have been happy to put food on the table and keep their little ones clothed, it is a modern phenomenon that we argue over whether they should eat gluten or go non-gmo or organic.  This article asserts that it is a lack of the extended family, the loss of the so-called village and their support, that results in stay at home mothers feeling unfulfilled, helpless, and dull, which resulted in the feminist movement and the modern career women who likewise feel their careers are equally unfulfilling with all the added guilt of working outside the home.  I think the article has a point, a strong network of supportive friends, family, and community is vital to a family's wellbeing, but I am not sure the discontent results from a lack thereof.  I think it is only the discontent native to every mortal soul, a yearning after the home and life we've never known but for which we were designed.

I remember visiting with a friend who had just had her second child, a liberal feminist with her Master's degree now stuck at home doing laundry and breastfeeding and I felt a smothering sense of panic and claustrophobia settle around me, glad that I was not doomed to such a life; I could not imagine life imprisoned at home like that!  Fast forward ten years and I am a former career woman: sixty hour weeks, all times of day and night, every day of the year, leaving me stressed, frustrated, and dissatisfied.  I lost my job, we packed up and moved five hundred miles away and overnight I was suddenly a stay at home mom, but instead of the walls closing in around me, 'a hutch to trammel some wild thing in,' I find myself strangely content, satisfied, and eager to get out of bed each morning.  What happened?  I don't have a so-called full-time career anymore, but as a pastor's wife and working part time, I certainly keep busy enough, though I'm not exactly paid for my work, at least in cash or renown.  

The article above asserts that the 'stay-at-home' mom as we idealize her today is a rather recent phenomenon, peculiar especially to America after the second world war, previously, while most mothers were in the home, they were far from idle as the home was, 'a center of commerce.'  The Biblical book of Proverbs illustrates this lifestyle in the last chapter (31) and shows what a woman's life in a then 'upper middle class'  family might look like.  She's supervising the servants and household matters, investing in real estate, raising food, running a business (think etsy before the internet), besides for her role as mother and wife.  I think this might be a clue to the 'mommy wars' and our own discontent with ourselves and one another: idleness.  Few people in history have ever had the chance to develop ennui into an art form like modern westerners (there is a reason for the rise of social media, drug use, video games, netflix, and 24/7 TV channels), and when our diversions fail to divert us, we blame others for our discontent, failing to realize it is the disquiet within our own souls, rather than those 'horrid' formula feeders (or whatever) causing our angst.  If every single one of our 'enemies' vanished, we'd still be miserable.

I am not saying stay busy for busyness' sake, the overeager soccer mom and the workaholic career woman are no happier than the couch potato soap opera lover of '90's fame.  Rather, stay busy with a purpose (no, don't go out and volunteer until your ears fall off, that isn't the answer either).  Let the home again 'be a center of commerce.'  Do what you can to earn a little extra income: babysit, make and sell things on etsy or ebay, teach piano lessons, take stock photos, write, raise guinea pigs, whatever you enjoy and are good at and can do with your particular schedule and kids.  Even if you can't work from home, anyone can do things to improve their budget/cash flow: cut coupons, garden, learn to budget and control your finances, shop thrift stores and clearance racks, learn to cook and eat out less…  What about improving yourself?  When was the last time you read a 'good' book?  Take an online class, work on your degree, learn an instrument or a language, practice your writing or photography or knitting, plant a flower bed…  Finding 'a cause' outside the home is also a great way to break out of the prison of ennui and idleness, whether it is volunteering at a school, church, or community center, raising money for some good cause, or simply visiting and helping the shut ins in your neighborhood, helping others is never vain and getting your kids involved is not only fun but also gives them an early start on character development.  Don't forget to cultivate your soul and the virtues attendant thereunto, the only investment that will last beyond this life (besides your kids, of course).  

Rather than focusing on what everybody else is doing 'wrong,' life is far more productive (and happy) if we focus on our own faults, flaws, and shortcomings and do something to reverse them.  I am not a proponent of busyness for its own sake, but if we have enough time to focus on what everybody else is doing wrong, we are idle indeed!        

Only available here!

I have done the impossible: I have found a topic to write upon peculiar to this blog, found nowhere else on the internet, which means it will likely be of no interest to the vast majority of humanity, but to those few searching souls, you have found the answer at last.  No, not THAT answer, rather let us speak of guitars, specifically the Jackson-Guldan 'Chris-Adjustomatic.'  I acquired just such a specimen at a flea market for $2, thus beginning my acquaintance with guitars (note to you professional musicians, I am a complete novice and hack so I will probably offend your musical sensibilities no end, please forgive me and feel free to move along if this sort of thing gives you pain, as my practice sessions no doubt give my hearers).

The poor thing had only 3 strings but that was about all I could tell you about it.  Then began 'the search' for the history and healing of my vintage guitar.  I scoured google and ebay, for pictures and information, finding very little save a few pictures and a few sentences here and there.  The company went out of business in 1971 and was better known for their violins, the children's version of this guitar has a little value, but the full-size specimens not so much.  They were a cheaper, readily available 'parlor guitar' popular in the 1950's and 60's.  And thanks to one ebay ad, I discovered mine is missing a bridge (as are several of the guitars in the google picture search).  Peculiar to these guitars is a floating bridge and a tail piece instead of the combined bridge/peg apparatus of modern acoustic guitars.  I found the part on ebay for $35 but as that was more than the value of the guitar (whole and functional), I decided to experiment instead.  I found a rosewood floating bridge for a flattop guitar, and as it looked similar to the picture and was only $5, I gave it a shot.  I also ordered some nylon strings.

The bridge came, but it was too tall, though I could remove the actual bridge part and use just that and it fit pretty well (as far as I can tell in my ignorance).  For a total of $15 I had a hopefully functional guitar; at least it looks nice.  It sounded awful though, but after a few days and more tuning, it finally sounded like something other than a dying elk.  It is probably me that sounds horrid rather than the abused instrument.  It goes out of tune pretty readily (not uncommon with either nylon strings or a floating bridge I guess) but far better than I thought it would be.  I can't use it for my professional performances, but to learn on, it will be just fine, and since I won't be hitting the State Fair/Casino circuit for about a thousand years, I'll have plenty of time to get a nicer one.

So there you have it folks, the only (that I can find) account of how to replace a floating bridge on a Jackson Guldan Chris Adjustomatic guitar available anywhere on the internet.  File this right next to the latest sighting of Elvis or the Loch Ness Monster!  But I have actual photographic evidence.