Another New Normal

How many times in life have you experienced a shift in circumstance so powerful that you adjust the parameters of what you consider "normal"? Most people have several of these: graduation, marriage, the birth of a child, the death of a parent. Some shifts are wonderful, and others devastating. Still others are just plain weird. In transition, I always think back to how things were and wonder how long it will be until things return to that state. It's usually then that I realize - they're never going to. 

Sometimes we expect the transition, and we have time to prepare. Other times, we are stunned to have our imaginations blown apart by the force of the unexpected. Whether the event is happy or tragic, our minds seem to process our surprise first, and we learn to cope from the vantage point of the shell-shocked. It's from that point that I write now. So I find myself almost at a loss of words attempting to describe how I feel about discovering that my first-born child, my only son, has a preliminary diagnosis of Bipolar I. If you aren't familiar with this condition, well, this isn't about just mood swings. Bipolar I includes psychosis. 

I know people generally agree that teenagers are crazy. However, when my son believed that the CIA had given him LSD, "crazy" understated his mental state. He also sincerely believed that his internal light was so strong that he needed sunglasses, lest he burn someone with his eyes. He was manic for several days, and slept a grand total of 13 hours in the course of a week. Finally, after heavy doses of antipsychotics, he began to come back to reality.

To be honest, some of the delusions were downright hilarious. For example, when asked to recount any addictions, he very seriously explained to a nurse that he was, "hooked on phonics." Despite a few laughs, I hated bearing witness to my son's struggle with the mania. The nine days of his hospitalization were the most draining of my entire life.    

Having him "back" is like a dream come true. Then again, he isn't "back" because we've never known who he is as an adult, because he hasn't yet become that. My hope for his future has been restored and even magnified now that I know how much he has already conquered. Before the episode, he had been a sulky, angry young man. I had worried for months, but his behavior was never outside the range of what seemed to be "normal" teenage angst.  I'm so happy to be reunited with a boy I haven't seen in a long time, and getting to watch him become the young man who we are actually yet to meet.

A few weeks before the manic episode, I had considered that he might need a psychological evaluation, but since he was 18, I wasn't sure how I was going to convince him to participate. Some people tried to tell me that I was over-protective. More than once I was told that I was the actual problem. I wasn't over-protective, and I wasn't the problem. Had I known what I know now, I would have trusted my instincts. Yet I can't regret the sequence of events, because without the manic episode, the scope and magnitude of his illness might not have been adequately assessed. Without the psychosis, diagnosis could have been murky, and he might have battled for years without even knowing what he was fighting or why. I am so thankful that we discovered his condition so early in his life.

I can't describe the details of the experience (so far) in one post. Suffice it to say that we are once again expanding our definition of "normal."

Not as Enjoyable to Read (or Write!) as Satire

Don't you hate it when you try to write a blog and you can't quite get your words in order... and The Onion articulates it perfectly?!

We disagree on so many things, but there are a few things we claim to agree upon, hands-down, no questions asked. One of those issues that everyone agrees on is that violence against children, including sexual abuse, is absolutely, always, no-doubt-about-it wrong. We start disagreeing when we talk about teenagers and how we define where childhood ends, but we've roughly estimated it at age 18, and that's what we've agreed upon as a nation. Age 7 is definitely, definitely well below within the boundary, and there is no room for debate.

Ronan Farrow tweeted regarding Woody Allen's recognition at the Golden Globes (which I didn't actually watch). He missed the tribute, and tweeted:

"...did they put the part where a woman publicly confirmed he molested her at age 7 before or after Annie Hall?"

My brain went in about 100 directions when I read about the tweet. Just because someone has made some great art, do they get a pass on seedy behavior? I don't mean legally, because legally, no they don't - at least theoretically. I am not talking about the justice system, but how deviants are viewed socially and historically.

IF the allegations that Woody Allen molested a 7 year old are true. If it's true, then the if/then chart leads us back to the law. This legal situation  involves another of Mia Farrow's daughter's accusations. But that court case was, according to CNN, dropped.

So my debate is not whether or not Woody Allen is guilty. It's about that gray area of humanity where we draw the line between open-mindedness and common sense, between judging a person we don't know and being forced to judge in order to protect the innocent. And between art and its creator.

He clearly has some disturbing proclivities and isn't deterred by the most widely accepted social mores. You know the one I mean, the one that says you don't marry your common-law stepchild.

However, in spite of the fact that we, as a society, find him icky, he keeps making movies. And we, at least some of us, keep enjoying them! I myself am guilty! I guess I can let myself off the hook for enjoying the old ones, right? But then I had to see the one with that guy I like, and before you know it, I'm watching the films of a person who I am pretty sure is a guy I would not let into my home, really. Take away the talent and genius (yeah, I'm actually going to say I think he is a genius, although many disagree) and what are you left with? A creepy dude at the very least. But you can't separate the genius from the man. How is it, though, that people seem to manage to separate the creepy?

So he has pretty much violated our most sacred code, and aside from some negative PR here and there, he hasn't really suffered publicly, absolutely not enough to lose his career and wealth. He remains a sought-after talent.  And here is the real, chewy nougat of the problem at hand:

Should he be allowed to continue to do that? Who is allowing him to do that? Everyone who's not trying to stop him? I could blame myself and all of us guilty of watching the films, but we can only watch them after they've been made and lots of money has already been exchanged. And I definitely had nothing to do with him getting an award! So here's the real question: why are people, people who can actually really hire and fire this guy, so enamored of celebrities that they'll put up with the worst behavior? Because the truth is - nobody's listening to ME and my friends. The people in charge are working with him because they choose to do so. And I think it's weird, at the very least. Because surely there are some geniuses out there who do NOT give us all the heebie-jeebies.

So what's wrong with these studio executives who will continue to work with him? How do they decide that they must develop his work, when there are literally millions of un-produced works of art up for grabs? Sure, he's made some great movies. How about giving someone new a chance, since we've already gotten an enormous amount of entertainment out of this guy's brain? 

What makes one scandal a nightmare with the firings, and pulling of the merchandise and another scandal almost unmentioned? The Food Network fired Paula Deen. In 1997, Marv Albert was fired  because of a sex scandal. Of course, he ended up becoming more successful than ever after beating the rap, but the point is that employers have the right to fire people. Executives have the power to terminate contracts. Studio executives have the right to refuse to produce scripts. While Paula Deen had and still has her supporters, that network was within their right to fire her if that's what the bosses decided to do. She can find a way to make a living elsewhere. She isn't in jail; she just got fired. 

But we've long been inconsistent about who we persecute and who we revere. (Don't even get me started on Bill Clinton.) There was some backlash when Woody Allen married his former common-law stepdaughter, but have we just decided, as a culture, that it is far enough in the past? In a few decades, will we be seeing tributes to Mel Gibson? He's all but banished. Why? Because he said some very stupid, vile things. Because he was violent, or at least threatened to be. Those were terrible things to have said, and everyone understands why everyone is appalled by his words. Why, though? Because he got caught. And in this case, we just have the word of one person against another. 

So why do some people "get away with it" and some don't? Is it the greatness of their art? Isn't that subjective?

When you look at a Picasso, do you think of the string of heartbroken wives and lovers and their children whose father was undoubtedly ridiculously selfish? What about when you're reading Hemingway, which students are often required to read?! A long time ago, I saw Beth Ann Fennelly read a poem she wrote, "Letter from Gauguin's Daughter." She nailed it! I highly, highly recommend everyone look her up and buy some of her poetry. 

It's a long standing tradition, it seems, for the talented, to often also be awful, and maybe we've resigned ourselves to that. Too many examples come to mind to list them all, but notably, Picasso and Hemingway. Their art survives and maintains its value. They were womanizers. Not someone who got caught up in some feelings and had some relationship overlap. Not midlife crises. Not young guys who did some carousing and then settled down. These guys were lifelong, pathological cheaters. Hemingway at least said he'd left his wife for another woman, "because I am a bastard." Is there anything to be said for the self-awareness? Or was that just narcissism?

And maybe, because these guys are very long dead, we can now enjoy their art left over, just as we could the inheritance we might receive from a dastardly uncle.

But womanizers from a century ago still aren't considered as vile as pedophiles. And while I admit to adoring "Annie Hall" I think a lot of what Woody Allen has done has seemed very repetitive. And I don't mind that, either. It's just that I don't think even a magnificent body of work excuses ill intentions, and surely there is at least one nice person somewhere making great films who could have garnered the award recently bestowed him! Sort of how you might be very qualified for a job, and although the employer can't legally discriminate against you, they can still choose to hire someone "better suited" once they see the Facebook photos from your "SPRING BREAK 2008" album.

At least someone finally arrested Roman Polanski, (caution, this link is explicit) - and at least Salon remembers!Thank you, Kate Harding!  To pretty much everyone else, where was the outrage? And there's that nagging fact that  Roman Polanski admitted guilt, and Woody Allen has not.  The mere suggestion of such things is enough to ruin most ordinary people's lives, or at least alter them permanently for the worse. Where are the ordinary consequences? And does the guy really need an award at this point? Was no one else deserving? Who voted on this? I guess I could look up some of these questions and delve further into it, but I'm not going to waste my time because not one thing I could read would sufficiently answer the real question: Why?!

So... I guess at this point, all I'm asking is this: Hey, famous-movie-producing-money-having and award-giving-out people? What are you thinking?

On the Occasion of the Eighteenth Anniversary of My Firstborn's Birth

I'm experiencing all the cliche emotions associated with the fact that my only son turns 18 tomorrow. I'm excited, sad, all of it. I'm so proud, and simultaneously disappointed. I'm disappointed in myself, because I totally did not do pretty much anything that I planned to do as a parent. I wanted to teach him to read when he was very young, and I did do that. Somehow, after that, it became all about whatever was going on at the time. Suddenly, we're here. It's time to look back and take stock of how this project is going, now that I'm handing it off to a new CEO. I mainly wanted to teach him to be a good person. He is a good person, but that's his doing, not mine. I wanted to be a good example, and I haven't always been that.

But I'm letting myself off the hook.

Because I have loved him with all my might, and don't intend to stop just because he will now be legally responsible for himself. I'm forcing myself to let go a little bit and accept this event. Furthermore, I'm even attempting to embrace its joys. I remember exactly what it felt like to turn 18, and I hope the liberation is just as gratifying for him, even if really, in the course of day-to-day life, the change is primarily psychological at this point.

His birthday isn't about me, of course, it's about him. But this writing that I'm doing is about me. And so I'm processing, with each tap of this keyboard, how I feel about his childhood being "over." It really, really, really did go so much faster than I ever thought it would. I remember everyone saying that it would. I've been having a sense of dread for weeks, feeling sad that I feel like I failed and that I missed so much of it. 

And then I realized that I haven't. I have been here, and although I've messed up a lot, I've never abandoned him. I've never not loved him. He's never gone without care. And he knows enough now that he really will be okay on his own soon. I'm so glad and thankful that he exists. I'm even more thankful that he is my son.

And that feels weird too. And I guess it's okay that it feels weird, too, because, well, it has to be okay, because that's how it feels, and so that's just how it is.

None of my disappointment has to do with him, although sometimes I have been really mad at him and disagreed with his behavior. I know he's young and human. I trust that he's learned from his mistakes, and that he'll make good choices in his bright future. I'm proud of him not because of his accomplishments. I'm proud of him because he is kind and brave. He just demonstrated these characteristics by gently cutting a hairball off our poor cat Pearl, who'd gotten into something sticky. He is so much smarter and gifted than he even realizes. I sincerely hope that he will be able to harness his intellectual power while maintaining his total lack of arrogance.

I'm rambling and hating the quality of this post, because it's scattered and raw. But it's honest. I had to commemorate this day, my last day as the mother of two "children." Tomorrow, one will be an adult. And I shouldn't have read Kahlil Gibran before I tried to write about this, because now I feel incredibly inferior. He said it so much better than I ever could. It's been so hard trying to be a stable bow, aiming the arrow as high as I could. I can't even fathom the target, but I trust that it will one day astound me.

"On Children" - Kahlil Gibran

And a woman who held a babe against her bosom said, "Speak to us of Children." And he said: 

      Your children are not your children. 

      They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself. 

      They come through you but not from you, 

      And though they are with you, yet they belong not to you. 

      You may give them your love but not your thoughts. 

      For they have their own thoughts. 

      You may house their bodies but not their souls, 

      For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams. 

      You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you. 

      For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday. 

      You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth. 

      The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite, and He bends you with His might that His arrows may go swift and far. 

      Let your bending in the archer's hand be for gladness; 

      For even as he loves the arrow that flies, so He loves also the bow that is stable.