Conservation

Is it me or are libraries today way more awesome than they were when I was growing up? The Elmhurst Public Library was a pleasant place to be, back in the day. But I remember it was a place to be quiet. There were never too many people inside of it. And I remember that nothing fun ever happened there.

Our library is not quiet. It has a massive room set aside as a "teen library" where the "teen" book collection resides and computers whir and bean bag chairs abound. It has a story time room where librarians perform a 30 minute story-telling routine that is never just the reading of books. It has a coffee and snack stand in front, for goodness sake! And at this library, the parking lot is always full.

I know that your libraries are probably a lot like this, too.

All of this makes me happy for my kids. We go once a week and they love it.

The summer's Reading Program theme has something to do with the ocean. The kids color in splashes for each book they read, and after a bunch of splashes they get a prize. You know the drill.

Instead of story time, they program professionals to do 45 minute presentations. Musicians, clowns, puppeteers. . .all of their presentations have something to do with the ocean.

On Wednesday, we went to see Inspector Magic's Lobster Tales. Inspector Magic was great last year. His tricks dazzled, and he concluded with a clever one that required 3 children and one mother. I did not volunteer, yet he picked me.

So I did my part, which was to stand there, and he did his sleight of hand and switcheroo, and the different name plates the kids were holding all--magically!--changed hands.

But the name plate I was holding itself was changed into the following word: SUPERHERO

(Because I was a Mom, get it? We're all "superheroes.")

But the real magic was that Inspector Magic had NO IDEA that I am a real superhero. I showed him my calling card afterward, to prove that I really am one, and he kind of looked at me like I was a dork.

Still--what were the chances that he'd pick me of all the moms there? Like, 1 in about 48. And you can ask Mr. Colorado's wife to attest to the facts of this story because she was there.

(Why didn't I tell this story on The Big "C"? I think it happened a few days before my surgery, and so the blog had not launched yet.)

I'm serious about that.

Back to Inspector Magic's Lobster Tales:

His act this year was all about conservation, which only partially relates to the ocean, so I'm calling a foul on that.

What was worse--his message dominated the magic and took up way too much time. Hey, Inspector: Less chat, more tricks.

(He did, however, share with the children that he is the new president of the magician association that was founded by Harry Houdini and is now 6,000 strong. And I was there for his act/conservationist harangue. So. I got that goin' for me.)

Here's what I found fascinating: Every child there (except for mine, I guess) already knew everything this guy was saying. He asked, 'What are the 3 R's?' and every hand (except for my kids') shot up. Reduce, Reuse, Recycle. Duh. He asked, "How many trees are chopped down to make the Sunday paper each week?" and many hands shot up, the boy he called on actually knew the answer!

How much time do schools spend teaching this stuff? That room was filled with Pre-schoolers through, at least, 4th graders, and they all knew the content of Inspector Magic's appeal.


There's a reason I offer these observations.

A few weeks ago, we had our bounce house set up in our backyard for our kids and those of our guests who'd come for a BBQ. It's a great toy. We set it up about half a dozen times a year, and by now, it has more than paid for itself as compared to the cost of renting one. It came with a blower that plugs into a normal socket, and the kids love it.

After everyone had left, Gemma was still playing on it, and I overheard part of a conversation she was having with the little girl who lives behind us. These neighbors seem nice enough, though they are not the least bit neighborly or social. And their kids--a bit older than ours--don't have very good manners.

(Oh, I'm sorry, is throwing rocks from one's backyard into one's neighbors in an attempt to hit the children who are playing there considered OK nowadays? I must catch up with the times. . .)

I could not make out all the words of the exchange, but the tone was very clearly a classic swap of toy-smack-down. A "mine's better than yours" kind of thing. The little girl was standing on her trampoline, and Gemma was pridefully perched on the top of her bounce house slide.

The neighbor girl shouted, in exasperation, "Well you're killing the polar bears!"

(Because Gemma was using electricity? Get it? Polar ice melt, etc?)

Gemma's brow furrowed and she was stymied beyond response. Killing polar bears? She must have been thinking. That cannot possibly be true.

I called out to the little girl, "It's OK. We're using the carbon credits we earn by hanging our clothes to dry on a line instead of using our clothes drier."

The part about telling the little girl this is not true. The part about hanging our clothing to dry is true.

Here's the part that fascinates me: In generations past, at the point of exasperation in this kind of squabble a kid used to say, "Well, your mother wears combat boots!" or, "Well, you're ugly!" or, "Well, you're a weirdo!"

This child's most handy and cutting insult was that Gemma was a poor conservationist.

How interesting is it, too, that I am going to write a paragraph now to assure you/defend myself: We do a lot of the 3 R's in our home, too. And we turn off the water while we're brushing our teeth. And I almost always remember to bring my canvass bags into the grocery store now that I don't have to have plastic ones on hand to dispose of Joshua's diapers.


This story also reminds me of a moment that I will live many times in the next several months. As I sat down for Inspector Magic's Lobster Tales, I thought, "One year ago at this time. . ."

I do that often. We did Vacation Bible School 2 weeks ago, and throughout it, I was thinking, "Last year at this time, I was diagnosed. . . Last year at the this time, playing this game, I had that Big Moment with Song #10. . ."

I recoil from the habit of this thinking. A bit. I want to be over cancer on an emotional level. But I think a year's worth of these anniversaries stand between me and a near-total point of being done with the journey.

Speaking of anniversaries, though: Yesterday, 26 June 2010, was the one year anniversary of my first surgery, the one that felt like such a dark day to walk towards and wake up to and show up for, the one that ended up being miraculous and the beginning of the healing.

Yesterday, we went to church, Saturday evening service people that we are, and unaware of the exact date (we're on a summer schedule, after all) I was mystified as to why I was so emotional during worship. It's always a very powerful time for me when I experience a lot of God's presence, but last night was especially moving.

And then the band started playing Song #10. I heard the first chords and somehow realized in an instant what the date was. . .

Wow.

He is an Everlasting God
He did not faint, He did not grow weary.