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Making
things happen - with integrity. A weekly CyberMemo designed to keep you on task. Monday July 15, 2002 Volume IV Number 28 |
FOCUS - Green Eggs and Ham
Parenting is the great equalizer.
It doesn’t matter, really, how many books you’ve read or how intentional you’ve been in preparing yourself for the task. It’s not a matter of IQ or street smarts. When you become a parent, you will soon realize that it’s the most demanding role you’ll ever play. There will be times when, exhausted, you feel entirely unqualified. Like you need to go back to school to get a Masters Degree in Parenting, anything to fill in the gaps, regroup, and give it another go. Or maybe no go at all.
You are looking for a way of escape.
But really, there is none.
Sam Dawson and Rita Harrison are a study in contrasts. We would put Sam in the category of “special needs.” He’s suffering from a form of retardation that caused him to lock in developmentally at the level of second grade. His seven-year-old skill level and perceptions dwell in the body of a young adult, who, through an unhappy turn of events, becomes a father to his own little girl. He is also her full time custodian. The two of them live on his disability check and his part time wages as a Starbuck’s employee.
Rita Harrison is a high powered attorney. From her high rise office building, looking over the city through polished chrome and glass, she advanced her career. She is now a principal, disproportionately successful, and on any given work day, dressed to kill. Rita, like Sam, is a parent, too; Mom to a seven year old boy who rarely sees her. Rita, perhaps because she has no real alternative, believes that child care can be bought.
That the two would ever meet is itself a fluke. Sam rather innocently walked into a downtown Police sting, and while he is clearly not guilty, he is arrested for the alleged solicitation of a prostitute. He’s quickly cleared of the charge, but in the process, Child Protective Services learns about his condition and the plight of his seven year old daughter; living with her retarded father. A well meaning social worker initiates action to remove Lucy Diamond Dawson (Sam named her after the famous Beatle’s song) from his home and care.
Sam is devastated.
He finds Rita in the phone book.
* * * * * *
Sam and Lucy have a life.
Sam’s friends are as harmless as Sam. His four pals suffer a similar kind of mental and intellectual limitation. Society has neatly compartmentalized them all into a corner of the neighborhood where they are largely out of the way. But they have a comradeship that’s engaging and fun. They play games, and carry on in choppy but real conversation. They tease and laugh, and mostly depend on one another for just about everything. Their favorite pastime is watching videos, old movies, the best repeated over and over, until the lines become a part of their vocabulary. The best among them will interject a timely quote, and then the others will identify the movie and the character… and even the date the movie was made.
Lucy’s homeless mother abandon’s both Sam and Lucy as she leaves the hospital never to be seen again.
From the start, when Lucy invades Sam’s world of movies and Starbucks and funky pals, they all pitch in. Lucy is welcomed as a visiting princess. Sam listens and reads and plays, long lazy visits to the park, and with the help of a reclusive neighbor, Annie, an accomplished musician driven into isolation by a terrible abusive relationship in her past, gives Lucy round the clock loving care.
Lucy grows. At about the (developmental) age of her father, Sam, she emerges as a bright, articulate, sensitive child, far ahead of her peers in intelligence and social awareness. She is pure delight - and only now becoming aware that her daddy is “different.”
Sam’s favorite book is Dr. Seuss’s Green Eggs and Ham and his favorite line, “Sam I Am.” By this time, little Lucy reads the silly poetry better than Sam. Together, they giggle at the non-sense, which is really common sense, but now, the two who have lived in happy seclusion are under the threat of a court action that may well separate them for life. If you know Sam, you understand the tragic injustice of the threat.
Sam’s daughter beams with affection for her father.
Enter Rita.
* * * * * * *
Rita only takes the case because she feels a duty to put something pro bono on her schedule. In her world, pro bono (from Latin, “for the public good,” usually without compensation) is a burden that is accommodated mainly because it looks good. You want to have something to say at cocktail parties when you are asked about your contribution to charity; when you are a person of privilege, you have a duty to “give something back” as the saying goes.
While Rita is really unwilling, she takes Sam’s case because to date, her grueling routines include nothing even remotely akin to charity. While she is convinced that Sam needs her legal skill, she is entirely unaware that she needs what Sam will give to her.
Rita’s world is frenzied. Her cell phone is her most intimate companion, ever on, ever attached, ever linking her to the vortex of chaos. Her attention span is short because perpetual interruptions distract her from the now and derail just about every sentence she starts. As anxiety accelerates, the pitch of her voice goes north, as does her heart rate, inflating the veins at her temples. The clenched jaw matches the clench of her firsts. Pity the poor person standing, for any reason, in her way.
She is always catching up, making excuses, and if need be, coloring the truth as much for convenience as for ducking responsibility. Her marriage is disintegrating. Her son is retreating into a virtual world of video games; his resentment towards his mother is only matched by his mother’s detachment from his world. She buys him off and then screams in protest over his impossible demands.
Rita’s son seethes with contempt for his mother.
Enter Sam.
* * * * * *
Parenting doesn’t end when the children become adults and move away. The education of a mother and father never stops. Each stage brings new variables, and new challenges that require a re-grouping, a review of the policies and procedures of parenthood.
It
is a clear irony that in the recent film, “I Am Sam” Sean Penn plays a
retarded father (Sam) who raises a near perfect child. Michelle Pfeiffer
(Rita) is a woman of privilege, who has access to every resource imaginable to
contribute to the upbringing of an exceptional son, and yet it is equally clear
that she is an abysmal failure.
Dr. Suess is famous for his nonsensical rhymes. But the nonsense is really common-sense and therefore universal and timeless; like the metaphor of Sam and Rita. While Sam violates nearly every sensible rule for effective parenting, he wins the prize. While Rita affirms every principle for textbook child-rearing, she comes up empty handed.
This doesn’t make the textbooks useless or the how-to manuals unhelpful. But there is some commonsense stuff at work… both in the film and in our homes.
* * * * * *
Eventually, Sam must take the stand. His fatherhood is hanging in the balance. His attorney, Rita, asks some direct questions. She knows the risk. By this time, she fundamentally disagrees with Child Protective Services, and in this case, believes it is in Lucy’s best interest to stay on with her bio-dad, Sam.
While on the stand, it’s not as though Sam, operating on the level of a second grader, is capable of hatching a compelling argument to persuade the court. But he has, along with his friends, committed some powerful dialog to memory, dialog heard and seen time and again on video, rented from the local Blockbuster.
This time, when Rita asks Sam (who sits nervously on the witness stand) what parenting is he suddenly becomes Dustin Hoffman who moved the world with his courtroom speech from the witness stand in Kraemer vs. Kraemer –
"I’ve had a lot of time to think about what makes somebody a good parent," he tells the court, quoting the movie. His pals in the audience recognize the source straight away. "It’s about constancy. It’s about patience. It’s about listening. It’s about pretending to listen even when you can’t listen anymore. And it’s about love."
Sam’s answer speaks to Rita. And the prosecuting attorney. And the judge.
And us, too.
* * * * * *
It’s Monday morning. You are a leader.
This parenting thing has you. You’ve giggled your way through Dr. Seuss. You’ve laughed and cried through the movies and novels and how-to books that effectively connect with the relentless task. You know it never really ends.
You were parented, too. I trust you were parented well.
This weekend, our pastor talked about the distinction between punishment and discipline. Punishment may be necessary from time to time. But discipline, that is, teaching and training and modeling and bringing perspective and wisdom and direction… well, that never stops. Many of us confuse the two, he reminded us. We think discipline is punishment and punishment is discipline. We’re wrong.
But our kids never stop needing what Sam gave to Lucy every day.
Gentle caring. Listening. Affirming. Loving.
She became what he believed her to be.
We all live, to some decree, in Rita’s world. Her headlong pursuit of success left her with everything except the things she really wanted the most.
This Monday morning, start out with some green eggs and ham.
Posted in Valley Center, California
© Copyright Kenneth E. Kemp 2002
Special Thanks to my good friend David Belcher, owner of Rhino Media Group and creator of WisdomGram
LeaderFOCUS is a service of Good Stewardship Associates
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