At the outset of this post, I must mention that a few weeks ago, I learned that my friend Mako-chan had passed away.
For anyone who has read other posts in this blog, you'll know him from my "Monking it in Osaka" entry. He was the founder of Big-I, the International Communications Center for People with Disabilities in Osaka, Japan, and the gentleman who took me on a day-long adventure to the magical Koyasan. Even though I spent nary a couple of days in his presence with language communication challenges to boot, he was a generous, intelligent, and active man, and I felt like we "got" each other. He was also one of the longest spinal cord injury survivors I knew, being about forty years out from his injury, which was enlivening to me. I consider him, even in our short time of knowing each other, a dear friend, and would like to honor his memory.
Learning of his passing also made me - as I am prone to be - contemplative about my own mortality. How long do I have? What is my purpose? Could I die today, tomorrow, or in forty years, and feel that I've lived a purposeful life? My answer is resoundingly yes, regardless of the things I still long to accomplish, and rolling through my actor life in Ashland is currently a boon to this.
But, an inescapable part of being a 33-year-old (yes, oooh, I said it), or frankly being a human of any age, is the question of children. To have or not to have.
While some immediately and enthusiastically jump at "to have!", it's a question I've mulled over in great detail since I emerged from the womb, and now I will share some of this mulling.
First, a few things about kids: yes, they are pretty great. I've known many of them, and I've even been one. Lots of pros: they have wells of energy and vitality, an untarnished view of life, a sense of adventure that is unimpeded by fear or judgment, they challenge adults to answer questions that seem to have obvious conclusions (until the answers start unfolding), they take risks, they're fun, they're miniature, they're raw, and if they're yours, it's like a little version of yourself to keep you company.
How nice.
My sister, who is an OB/GYN, has had her fair share of interaction with kids, and the miracle or amazing scientific process (depending on your viewpoint) of bringing children into the world. She's even had a kid or two named after her...wow!
She is also the first to tell you, conversely, about some of the horror stories she's encountered with bringing kids into the world, and what happens when those kids grow into adults who are not particularly considerate of the realistic challenges posed by bearing, rearing, and raising children. (Or, in many unfortunate cases, are still "kids" themselves.) And let me tell you, these are not joyful stories. They involve poverty, abuse, abominable health, disrespect, ignorance, and absence of love. It's the ugly yet entirely realistic side of having children that usually goes un-discussed.
Many people disregard the challenges of children as "all part of the deal" that, in the end, most would say is COMPLETELY worth it. Because kids are soooo wonderful. (Now, mind you, the people who say this have also had kids, and therefore may not be the most objective source.) But, in considering the question of parenting, I feel it's imperative to balance doe-eyed maternal instinct with some rational philosophy, and to give space to exploring the Dark Side of kids.
Children are/can be (you pick):
Expensive.
Annoying.
Mean.
Rude.
Poorly behaved.
Judgmental.
Assholes.
Dirty.
Belligerent.
Obstinate.
For anyone who has read other posts in this blog, you'll know him from my "Monking it in Osaka" entry. He was the founder of Big-I, the International Communications Center for People with Disabilities in Osaka, Japan, and the gentleman who took me on a day-long adventure to the magical Koyasan. Even though I spent nary a couple of days in his presence with language communication challenges to boot, he was a generous, intelligent, and active man, and I felt like we "got" each other. He was also one of the longest spinal cord injury survivors I knew, being about forty years out from his injury, which was enlivening to me. I consider him, even in our short time of knowing each other, a dear friend, and would like to honor his memory.Learning of his passing also made me - as I am prone to be - contemplative about my own mortality. How long do I have? What is my purpose? Could I die today, tomorrow, or in forty years, and feel that I've lived a purposeful life? My answer is resoundingly yes, regardless of the things I still long to accomplish, and rolling through my actor life in Ashland is currently a boon to this.
But, an inescapable part of being a 33-year-old (yes, oooh, I said it), or frankly being a human of any age, is the question of children. To have or not to have.
While some immediately and enthusiastically jump at "to have!", it's a question I've mulled over in great detail since I emerged from the womb, and now I will share some of this mulling.
First, a few things about kids: yes, they are pretty great. I've known many of them, and I've even been one. Lots of pros: they have wells of energy and vitality, an untarnished view of life, a sense of adventure that is unimpeded by fear or judgment, they challenge adults to answer questions that seem to have obvious conclusions (until the answers start unfolding), they take risks, they're fun, they're miniature, they're raw, and if they're yours, it's like a little version of yourself to keep you company.
How nice.
My sister, who is an OB/GYN, has had her fair share of interaction with kids, and the miracle or amazing scientific process (depending on your viewpoint) of bringing children into the world. She's even had a kid or two named after her...wow!
She is also the first to tell you, conversely, about some of the horror stories she's encountered with bringing kids into the world, and what happens when those kids grow into adults who are not particularly considerate of the realistic challenges posed by bearing, rearing, and raising children. (Or, in many unfortunate cases, are still "kids" themselves.) And let me tell you, these are not joyful stories. They involve poverty, abuse, abominable health, disrespect, ignorance, and absence of love. It's the ugly yet entirely realistic side of having children that usually goes un-discussed.
Many people disregard the challenges of children as "all part of the deal" that, in the end, most would say is COMPLETELY worth it. Because kids are soooo wonderful. (Now, mind you, the people who say this have also had kids, and therefore may not be the most objective source.) But, in considering the question of parenting, I feel it's imperative to balance doe-eyed maternal instinct with some rational philosophy, and to give space to exploring the Dark Side of kids.
Children are/can be (you pick):
Expensive.
Annoying.
Mean.
Rude.
Poorly behaved.
Judgmental.
Assholes.
Dirty.
Belligerent.
Obstinate.
Bullies.
Tiresome.
Unrelenting.
Self-centered.
Tiresome.
Unrelenting.
Self-centered.
A huge responsibility.
And the worst-of-all dirty little forgotten secret about kids? They grow up so fast (as the old parenting maxim laments) to be "adults". Who overpopulate the world, consume scarce resources, get and give diseases, break hearts, break heads, get greedy, insult people, sit around lazily, get addicted, steal, lie, cheat, abuse, are depressed, purposeless, bitter, discriminatory, and hurt others. Or, have the potential for all these things.
I'm sorry if it's hard to acknowledge this truth: that children are just early versions of the messy adults we become. Yet, because of our fascination with miniature things, we forget that kids are humans. And that humans are BIG responsibilities. (A high school teacher I know often poses the question, why do we have so many tests and requirements for other societal responsibilities - academics, driving, getting into the military, citizenship, law, medicine, even for getting to the next level in a video game - and yet, there is none for becoming a parent?!?!)
So maybe we should incline ourselves against procreation.
Often I think people are quick to judge this line of thinking as blasphemous. "How could you possibly prioritize world overpopulation above the miracle of children?!" One side of me responds, "Yes, of course! Kids are amazing! And, it's my American, deity-given right to bear them! I'll just figure out the parenthood thing as I go, because it's the most incredible thing you can do with your life!"
And the worst-of-all dirty little forgotten secret about kids? They grow up so fast (as the old parenting maxim laments) to be "adults". Who overpopulate the world, consume scarce resources, get and give diseases, break hearts, break heads, get greedy, insult people, sit around lazily, get addicted, steal, lie, cheat, abuse, are depressed, purposeless, bitter, discriminatory, and hurt others. Or, have the potential for all these things.
I'm sorry if it's hard to acknowledge this truth: that children are just early versions of the messy adults we become. Yet, because of our fascination with miniature things, we forget that kids are humans. And that humans are BIG responsibilities. (A high school teacher I know often poses the question, why do we have so many tests and requirements for other societal responsibilities - academics, driving, getting into the military, citizenship, law, medicine, even for getting to the next level in a video game - and yet, there is none for becoming a parent?!?!)
So maybe we should incline ourselves against procreation.
Often I think people are quick to judge this line of thinking as blasphemous. "How could you possibly prioritize world overpopulation above the miracle of children?!" One side of me responds, "Yes, of course! Kids are amazing! And, it's my American, deity-given right to bear them! I'll just figure out the parenthood thing as I go, because it's the most incredible thing you can do with your life!"
The other side of me says, "How can I NOT take overpopulation into consideration?! There is nothing more selfish, inconsiderate, and irresponsible than having children without considering their impact on the world first!!" After all, if I have That Kid, it's gonna have to live on this planet with 7,000,000,000 other humans (look at all those zeros). And, all the issues this world already has? That Kid will be adding to them, regardless of whether he/she/it is a good-hearted, well-intentioned person or not.
Side note: In case you're wondering about my spinal cord injury, yes, as far as I know, I can have kids. It's no denying that having a child with a paralyzed body could be a challenge, and demand more care and attention than a non-paralyzed body. But, it is absolutely possible, and I know many people with SCI who have had children and are happy, successful parents.
But, just because I can, does that mean I should? Just because any of us has a penis, vagina, sperm, uterus, etc. and general knowledge of how they produce, does that mean we should? As my parents used to say, just because Timmy jumps off a bridge, does that mean you should, too?
I have many friends - and a couple of siblings - for whom this is a palpable and timely question. Some are having kids that were planned. Some are having kids that were unplanned. Some are single and terrified that they'll never get the option. Some are married and trying, but it just hasn't "hit." And some are looking at the world, as I am, caught in the space of "to have or have not," but feeling the general societal pressure of "yes, of course you should - it's our human purpose!"
Now, this is one point with which I will openly disagree. In MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING (the play I'm currently in), Benedick jokes that "the world must be peopled!" I don't think that humans should feel any obligation at this point in the time-space continuum to reproduce for humanity's sake. (If anything, we should probably feel an obligation NOT to reproduce for humanity's sake.) And for our individual sakes, I think we are a species that has developed to a point where life can be deeply purposeful in the absence of reproducing.
Now let me redeem myself to those of you who are inferring that I hate children. On this question of living a "purposeful" life...kids are the best ever.
As I said before, there are many "pros" of children. In comparing with the "cons" list, I noticed that the "pros" are much less about logistics and tangibles, and much more about perspective and intangibles. Because this is where kids blow adults out of the water, and are the saving grace of humanity (and perhaps, many of our own individual lives).
They find delight in taking off their shoes and running through a fountain, where adults worry about how they'll dry off.
They escape into books and forts and trees and their imaginations, where adults often escape into alcohol, sex, drugs, or technology.
They look at new or different things with clear-headed curiosity, rather than with repulsion, judgment, and fear.
They allow their truest emotions to show and they communicate very clearly what they want or need, rather than masking or dulling it to prevent vulnerability.
And the list could go on. While this draws some generalizations about kids and adults, I'd say it's still pretty universally accurate.
And, it reinforces one of my hypotheses about why we really have kids: to allow a brief return to a kid-like perspective of freedom and fearlessness. A coal miner may not sit down by herself and pull out crayons on a Saturday afternoon, but she might if she has kids, and she might secretly really enjoy it. And no matter how much an investment banker wants to take off his shoes and walk in the grass at lunch, he probably won't...unless his kids are the "excuse."
I adore the anomaly adults who still allow themselves to be child-like, even in the absence of children. They often get judged up the wazoo; they're "immature", "out of touch with reality", or at worst, "kooky" or "crazy" or "insane." I'm not referring to the jerks who start bar fights because they never learned self-control, or the only-children who still behave as though they are the only human beings who matter. I'm not saying that all of the lessons we learn through adolescence, puberty, and adulthood should be discarded. Once you have learned not to touch your privates in public, throw temper tantrums, hit something you don't like, or put bunnies in the microwave, those lessons should STAY. End of story.
Other lessons from kids and childhood, however, should demand reprisal by adults. Since adults were kids in the not-too-distant past, we have the capacity to find the same youthful joy in life that we experienced as a kid...without bringing one into the world.
I was reminded of this in our rehearsal room for MUCH ADO. I watched a few of my fellow actors perform a hilarious scene in which some of them are actually dressed like children (think Boy scout attire), and all I could see were there inner tykes.
This one: the weird kid who ventured out into the field at lunch to pick dandelions at talk to "Crystal Shimmer."
That one: the straight-A student who captained the baseball team and was madly in love with his high school sweetheart for whom he painted roses on her sidewalk.
This one: the twelve-year-old who took on the responsibility of her parents way too young.
That one: the Ferris Bueller who got along with everyone regardless of type, age, or background.
The joy in our rehearsal room is palpable, and makes me feel like a kid. Why? Because I'm surrounded by a bunch of "adults" who allow themselves the freedom to venture into kid-like territory. They're vulnerable, creative, and are given the license to think outside of what they think they know.
Clearly, theatre is a safe space for people to do this, which contrasts many other arenas of adult life. But I see it outside of theatre, too. In the young guy playing guitar on the corner, the old woman dancing alone in the aisles at the MLK Day celebration, the scientist who gets giddy about a new insect, the middle-agers who rendezvous for a softball game every week, or simply the friendly person on the bus who isn't afraid to smile, say hello, and start a conversation.
Each one of us has the absolute capacity to make adulthood full, interesting, and joyous with the details that surround us, whatever they may be.
You don't need a kid to have permission to draw a picture.
Or walk barefoot in the grass.
Or twirl at an outdoor concert.
Or take a class on pottery.
Or have an impromptu dance party after dinner on a Wednesday night.
Or craft your mac 'n cheese into a volcano.
Or play Candyland.
Or cry.
With a bit of vulnerability and carefree spirit, each of us has the capacity to bring out the best parts of our kid-self, no matter what our age.
Furthermore, what if we remembered that adults are just bigger versions of kids? Instead of judgment and disdain, what if we could treat our post-pubescent peers with as much fascination, adoration, and compassion as we do the little tykes? Maybe we'd accept each other more freely and fully.
This is probably the biggest argument I've developed against having my own kids. There are already so many diverse and fascinating humans on this planet, and I have barely scratched the surface with meeting them, learning from them, exploring with them, shaping them, and being shaped by them. I don't know if I'll have time to add That Kid! Seven billion PLUS one? I'm already tired.
While I might be able to impress more upon That Kid than some random person I meet, is this really the argument for having kids? To create a person who I can mold more than the Average Joe human who already exists? Seems a little egotistical to me...I may as well get some Playdough.
The point is, kids ARE amazing. SO ARE adults. Which shouldn't be much of a surprise, because they are one in the same...just different sizes, with a few years in between.
So I don't think it's imperative for anyone to feel less - or more - for having kids or not having kids. In my mind, it should really be considered a matter of logistics and resources: do you have what it will require to parent? Do you want to give what it will require to be a parent? Do you have a good reason for why another child should be brought into this world?
And this shouldn't be a moral or emotional consideration of whether you think you're "good enough". Good parents come in all varieties, and so do not-so-good parents. Even people that would make "good" parents shouldn't necessarily have kids. I'd probably be good at designing buttons or researching panda bears. But, that doesn't mean my life has to take that path.
There is no shame in deciding that you wouldn't make an optimal parent. Everyone has their niche.
Frankly, I think Parent should be one more career category on those tests you take in college to choose a major. Choosing "Parent" shouldn't be viewed as better or worse than Doctor, or Lawyer, or Scientist, or Actor. They all fulfill necessary functions in our society. (I'm sure some of you are thinking, "Wait, "Actor"? Necessary? YES. That's for another blog post.) "Parent" is a life choice and a responsibility, not an automatic badge of honor. Can it also be a truly fulfilling life endeavor? Sure. But so can saving lives, or fostering justice, or researching theories, or creating stories that make meaning of life. Kids are not the end-all-be-all. (Again, I know, because I was one.) :-)
To the parents among us: congratulations on spending energy on gargantuan task of raising the next batch of humans. And perhaps consider loosening your proprietary reins a bit, to allow "your" kids to be exposed to some of the amazing kid-less adults in your midst. You don't own them, and it takes a village; they're probably better off with some variety in their elders.
To the non-parents among us: thank you for supporting the kids - and the adults - in other ways, and for trying to maintain the world as a functional place for the next batch of humans to live.
To those who are pondering the question of kids:
Thank you for pondering and not rushing. (I'm sure my sister - and the entirety of future humanity - would thank you too.) Maybe some of us could be great parents. But maybe some have energies that are better utilized elsewhere. Perhaps consider some of the alternative options:
Adopting one of the mini humans that already exists.
Offering to take a more significant role in some of your friends or siblings' kids' lives.
Getting your fill of kid-wonder through working with them as a teacher, mentor, volunteer, tutor, etc.
In the end, our lives will be full, communal, rich, and meaningful if that's what we want them to be...kids or no kids. Like Mako-chan...who made a significant impact on the world, all without kids.
So if you see me alone in the bushes drawing with crayons, I'm not nuts...I'm keeping the kid-spirit alive via the pregnancy-free route. Let me be.
Side note: In case you're wondering about my spinal cord injury, yes, as far as I know, I can have kids. It's no denying that having a child with a paralyzed body could be a challenge, and demand more care and attention than a non-paralyzed body. But, it is absolutely possible, and I know many people with SCI who have had children and are happy, successful parents.
But, just because I can, does that mean I should? Just because any of us has a penis, vagina, sperm, uterus, etc. and general knowledge of how they produce, does that mean we should? As my parents used to say, just because Timmy jumps off a bridge, does that mean you should, too?
I have many friends - and a couple of siblings - for whom this is a palpable and timely question. Some are having kids that were planned. Some are having kids that were unplanned. Some are single and terrified that they'll never get the option. Some are married and trying, but it just hasn't "hit." And some are looking at the world, as I am, caught in the space of "to have or have not," but feeling the general societal pressure of "yes, of course you should - it's our human purpose!"
Now, this is one point with which I will openly disagree. In MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING (the play I'm currently in), Benedick jokes that "the world must be peopled!" I don't think that humans should feel any obligation at this point in the time-space continuum to reproduce for humanity's sake. (If anything, we should probably feel an obligation NOT to reproduce for humanity's sake.) And for our individual sakes, I think we are a species that has developed to a point where life can be deeply purposeful in the absence of reproducing.
Now let me redeem myself to those of you who are inferring that I hate children. On this question of living a "purposeful" life...kids are the best ever.
As I said before, there are many "pros" of children. In comparing with the "cons" list, I noticed that the "pros" are much less about logistics and tangibles, and much more about perspective and intangibles. Because this is where kids blow adults out of the water, and are the saving grace of humanity (and perhaps, many of our own individual lives).
They find delight in taking off their shoes and running through a fountain, where adults worry about how they'll dry off.
They escape into books and forts and trees and their imaginations, where adults often escape into alcohol, sex, drugs, or technology.
They look at new or different things with clear-headed curiosity, rather than with repulsion, judgment, and fear.
They allow their truest emotions to show and they communicate very clearly what they want or need, rather than masking or dulling it to prevent vulnerability.
And the list could go on. While this draws some generalizations about kids and adults, I'd say it's still pretty universally accurate.
And, it reinforces one of my hypotheses about why we really have kids: to allow a brief return to a kid-like perspective of freedom and fearlessness. A coal miner may not sit down by herself and pull out crayons on a Saturday afternoon, but she might if she has kids, and she might secretly really enjoy it. And no matter how much an investment banker wants to take off his shoes and walk in the grass at lunch, he probably won't...unless his kids are the "excuse."
I adore the anomaly adults who still allow themselves to be child-like, even in the absence of children. They often get judged up the wazoo; they're "immature", "out of touch with reality", or at worst, "kooky" or "crazy" or "insane." I'm not referring to the jerks who start bar fights because they never learned self-control, or the only-children who still behave as though they are the only human beings who matter. I'm not saying that all of the lessons we learn through adolescence, puberty, and adulthood should be discarded. Once you have learned not to touch your privates in public, throw temper tantrums, hit something you don't like, or put bunnies in the microwave, those lessons should STAY. End of story.
Other lessons from kids and childhood, however, should demand reprisal by adults. Since adults were kids in the not-too-distant past, we have the capacity to find the same youthful joy in life that we experienced as a kid...without bringing one into the world.
I was reminded of this in our rehearsal room for MUCH ADO. I watched a few of my fellow actors perform a hilarious scene in which some of them are actually dressed like children (think Boy scout attire), and all I could see were there inner tykes.
This one: the weird kid who ventured out into the field at lunch to pick dandelions at talk to "Crystal Shimmer."
That one: the straight-A student who captained the baseball team and was madly in love with his high school sweetheart for whom he painted roses on her sidewalk.
This one: the twelve-year-old who took on the responsibility of her parents way too young.
That one: the Ferris Bueller who got along with everyone regardless of type, age, or background.
The joy in our rehearsal room is palpable, and makes me feel like a kid. Why? Because I'm surrounded by a bunch of "adults" who allow themselves the freedom to venture into kid-like territory. They're vulnerable, creative, and are given the license to think outside of what they think they know.
Clearly, theatre is a safe space for people to do this, which contrasts many other arenas of adult life. But I see it outside of theatre, too. In the young guy playing guitar on the corner, the old woman dancing alone in the aisles at the MLK Day celebration, the scientist who gets giddy about a new insect, the middle-agers who rendezvous for a softball game every week, or simply the friendly person on the bus who isn't afraid to smile, say hello, and start a conversation.
Each one of us has the absolute capacity to make adulthood full, interesting, and joyous with the details that surround us, whatever they may be.
You don't need a kid to have permission to draw a picture.
Or walk barefoot in the grass.
Or twirl at an outdoor concert.
Or take a class on pottery.
Or have an impromptu dance party after dinner on a Wednesday night.
Or craft your mac 'n cheese into a volcano.
Or play Candyland.
Or cry.
With a bit of vulnerability and carefree spirit, each of us has the capacity to bring out the best parts of our kid-self, no matter what our age.
Furthermore, what if we remembered that adults are just bigger versions of kids? Instead of judgment and disdain, what if we could treat our post-pubescent peers with as much fascination, adoration, and compassion as we do the little tykes? Maybe we'd accept each other more freely and fully.
This is probably the biggest argument I've developed against having my own kids. There are already so many diverse and fascinating humans on this planet, and I have barely scratched the surface with meeting them, learning from them, exploring with them, shaping them, and being shaped by them. I don't know if I'll have time to add That Kid! Seven billion PLUS one? I'm already tired.
While I might be able to impress more upon That Kid than some random person I meet, is this really the argument for having kids? To create a person who I can mold more than the Average Joe human who already exists? Seems a little egotistical to me...I may as well get some Playdough.
The point is, kids ARE amazing. SO ARE adults. Which shouldn't be much of a surprise, because they are one in the same...just different sizes, with a few years in between.
So I don't think it's imperative for anyone to feel less - or more - for having kids or not having kids. In my mind, it should really be considered a matter of logistics and resources: do you have what it will require to parent? Do you want to give what it will require to be a parent? Do you have a good reason for why another child should be brought into this world?
And this shouldn't be a moral or emotional consideration of whether you think you're "good enough". Good parents come in all varieties, and so do not-so-good parents. Even people that would make "good" parents shouldn't necessarily have kids. I'd probably be good at designing buttons or researching panda bears. But, that doesn't mean my life has to take that path.
There is no shame in deciding that you wouldn't make an optimal parent. Everyone has their niche.
Frankly, I think Parent should be one more career category on those tests you take in college to choose a major. Choosing "Parent" shouldn't be viewed as better or worse than Doctor, or Lawyer, or Scientist, or Actor. They all fulfill necessary functions in our society. (I'm sure some of you are thinking, "Wait, "Actor"? Necessary? YES. That's for another blog post.) "Parent" is a life choice and a responsibility, not an automatic badge of honor. Can it also be a truly fulfilling life endeavor? Sure. But so can saving lives, or fostering justice, or researching theories, or creating stories that make meaning of life. Kids are not the end-all-be-all. (Again, I know, because I was one.) :-)
To the parents among us: congratulations on spending energy on gargantuan task of raising the next batch of humans. And perhaps consider loosening your proprietary reins a bit, to allow "your" kids to be exposed to some of the amazing kid-less adults in your midst. You don't own them, and it takes a village; they're probably better off with some variety in their elders.
To the non-parents among us: thank you for supporting the kids - and the adults - in other ways, and for trying to maintain the world as a functional place for the next batch of humans to live.
To those who are pondering the question of kids:
Thank you for pondering and not rushing. (I'm sure my sister - and the entirety of future humanity - would thank you too.) Maybe some of us could be great parents. But maybe some have energies that are better utilized elsewhere. Perhaps consider some of the alternative options:
Adopting one of the mini humans that already exists.
Offering to take a more significant role in some of your friends or siblings' kids' lives.
Getting your fill of kid-wonder through working with them as a teacher, mentor, volunteer, tutor, etc.
In the end, our lives will be full, communal, rich, and meaningful if that's what we want them to be...kids or no kids. Like Mako-chan...who made a significant impact on the world, all without kids.
So if you see me alone in the bushes drawing with crayons, I'm not nuts...I'm keeping the kid-spirit alive via the pregnancy-free route. Let me be.
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