2002-03-11 - 9:47 p.m.

Anyway, we were talking about our society of excess, and it's international political ramifications, and he talked of how difficult it was to keep from spoiling his child, when he has so much. Not so much by some standards, but middle class much. Too many toys, and too many clothes, and too much TV. Too many surprises, too many yes's. But how can he deprive his son (or himself) the sheer joy of searching his daddy's briefcase for his present when he returns from a trip? I sympathized, and we talked about the fine line you have to walk, and I told him about my aunt and uncle.

They were earthy-crunchy intellectuals, college professors both, and the values they were trying to instill were admirable. Do not waste, be happy with what you have, have compassion, show kindness. They didn't want their children to be stereotypical American consuming citizens.

So they had a huge garden, and a compost pile, and they recycled when no one else did. She bought as little as possible from the grocery store, made her own cereal, oatmeal cookies, whole wheat bread. Dried her own fruit instead of buying Twinkies, made them finish the milk in the bottom of their cereal bowls. And they didn't buy them unnecessary things. Books, yes. Essential clothing, musical instruments, chemistry sets, yes. Count Chocula, Oreo cookies, and Malibu Barbie, no. They did chores for their allowance, and if they wanted something they'd save their money and buy it. And, every Thanksgiving, enter my brother and I. Incredulous at the monster of a mother who wouldn't allow her kids to watch TV or eat Devil D0gs. Why wasn't DYFS coming out there? It was like a torture chamber for us. Every year we'd go for Thanksgiving, and they'd have their Christmas lists on the refrigerator. They'd ask for things like those green plastic molded army men, and construction paper, and glitter, and tape. My brother and I would read their lists, wide eyed. "They're asking for TAPE? For CHRISTMAS?" WTF? No Rock'em S0ck'em robots, no Barbie head you could put makeup on, no Simon? It's not like they were poor. My dad, the favorite uncle, would show up with big tins of pretzels and potato chips and candy, and hide them in the garage, where we'd go and sneak them when my aunt wasn't looking. As an adult, I know she knew about it, but back then we thought we were getting over big time.

Anyway, my point is this. Those kids grew up WARPED. Two moved as far away from possible from them, one is an asexual premature old maid who has her 30 year old friends over for tea parties, and one enlisted right out of high school and ended up relatively normal. And to this day, you can't touch their shit. The premature old maid got word that my aunt gave her granddaughter, the old maid's niece, some of the old maid's childhood toys. And she threw a shit fit, and demanded that she get them back. From her 3 year old niece. That shit is just not right.

So what's the middle ground? My parents spoiled the shit out of me, and it did cause me some problems later, like having to learn financial responsibility the hard way. But still. I turned out fairly compassionate and generous. How do you know how far is too far? It's funny, I thought they were absolute MONSTERS when I was a kid. They spanked their kids. No one ever raised a hand to me in my life. But now I see what they were trying to do. And some of those values are my own. On the other hand, I buy my own 8 year old niece Kenne1h C0le sandals. I think when I have kids I'm going to let my friend Karen tell me what to do every step of the way - she's done a great job with her kids. I'm not so sure about me.

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