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| 7 Things my seven year old Nini says (in her signature
toothspy lisp and pint-sized voice):
- “Karen,
did you know change is nature.” (In response to me asking her if she
missed Albert and telling her I was going to miss her, too)
- “Don’t
worry, you will always be in my heart.” Me (in disbelief): Where did you
learn to say that, Nini! “From ‘The Land Before Time.’”
- During
temper tantrum at dinner table: “No fair! Everybody at the table always
finishes before me! I have the smallest mouth in the family!” (starts
crying).
- God
loves everybody!” (in response to me crying about something she didn’t
understand)
- “Karen,” (while she is applying my
make-up to my face), “did you know that it is the beauty on the inside
that counts? I’m glad that I have beauty on the inside.”
- “Nobody
is perfect!” (interrupting me in the middle of a phone conversation where
I am complaining about a friend).
- “Did
you know that kangaroos live in Australia and they are called
mar-SOO-pials because they have a pouch. And the aborigines live there,
too. And while we have our winter, they have their summer, and there’s
something in the ocean called the great barrier reef, with lots of fishes
and wildlife, and the Sydney Opera House, which looks like a ship… and my
friend Ian went to Italy where he saw the leaning tower of PEE-saw, and oh
brother, it leans forever and ever and ever!…” (typical monologue she has
in the backseat of the car, glinty-eyed and excited about her knowledge)
We could all learn from the wisdom of a seven-year-old.
My bet is this kid is going to Harvard… | | |
| I think I like children...
I realize I haven't posted in about half a year but I feel compelled to write about my little sister, Nini again.
I didn't realize I liked kids- I've always been put off by the screaming, yelling, noise... but now I just can't get enough of my little sister. Everytime she walks into my room in her little pint-sized fuzzy pink pajamas my whole face lights up and I have to come chase her with a hug. It's like the little things that make me love her the most-- the gap between her teeth, the way her eyes squint naughtily when she gets excited about something, the way she spews off facts about the Aborigines in Australia or the first dragon king in China (which she absorbed from an encyclopedic series called "The Magic Treehouse"), or the way she invites me to picnics and crawls into bed with me to read books with her cheeky smile... I just can't get enough! I even think she's cute when she's throwing temper tantrums--- little droplets of tears well up her in eyes, her voice gets squeakily high, and her hands roll into fists as she issues pretty ridiculous demands that end up making me laugh.
That's when you know you love someone. I don't know if I've ever felt this kind of love for someone before (the vulnerable-protective kind of love that is entirely unconditional, forgiving, and dare I say it-- parental?) I even spent last night lying awake in my bed thinking about it and reached a very serious conclusion-- if there was a massive truck heading down a road that my little sister just happened to be playing in the middle of, I would run right in front of that truck and sacrifice my own life before seeing her die. I turned this conclusion over in my mind many times before deciding that it was true.
I wonder if my affinity for children comes from never fully growing out of childhood myself. I think even during the pre-adolescent years when other people my age were experimenting with make-up and "going out" I was still holed up in my room reading "James and the Giant peach" and lying awake at night imagining stories and pretending I was someone else. And to some degree-- my travel experiences may be an extension of this desire to hold onto wonder and transform the rich world of my mind into the threads of reality. I'm a bit ashamed to say it-- but "playing picnic" with my little sister was so much more fun than having a real picnic. And for some reason, pitching a blanket over two chairs to pretend we were camping in the rain was in a lot of ways more fun than some of the real-life camping experiences I have had in the wild, swatting misquitos and trying to stay warm. We even pretended to sing and dance "in the rain." So imagine our delight when it really started raining outside and I went running in it.
*sigh* I love her so much! I can really identify with kids and how they think, but I don't know how good I'll be at disciplining them. I've thought about that... | | |
| Apparently, eharmony is not able to find any matches for me at this time...
Ahhhhh....and it's a dating site!!!!
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| Letter I wrote to a previous member of the Amish community who had been sexually abused repeatedly by family members and was ex-communicated for bringing police onto her case:
My name is Karen Song and I recently visited the Amish Village in the
Lancaster, PA area. I have only really heard about the Amish through
TV, jokes and such, so I was incredibly shocked when I first arrived
and couldn't shake this nauseating feeling after I left.... maybe
knowing that these people were real made me re-evaluate society and
the ease with which I accept the cultural norms of my own mainstream
society (that surely must appear to strange to others in the same way
that those of the Amish appear to me).
I was very much suprised by the plain dress and the buggies. So much
so that I made it my aim to drive through the back country. I stopped
by house that advertised selling canned goods as an exuse to talk to
the Amish family because I was so intrigued by the way of life. One
thing I noticed was how helpful the six girls (all under the age of
10) were in selling the jams and hailing my car from the driveway.
They were barefoot while the mother (who shockingly looked just a few
years over my age... I'm in my early twenties...) was minding her
garden at the side of the house. These girls were placid and obedient,
almost disturbingly so, and dressed in plain purple garments with hair
parted exactly in the middle. I was also rather impressed at how the
eldest girl (again, probably not beyond the age of 9 or 10) hoisted a
whole tub of heavy jams w/o so much as a complaint. And when I talked
to the mother, she was rather curt in her responses (probably because
I was one of the "English"). I asked her what a typical day for her
was-- and she said she usually prepared lunch for her husband in the
morning, kept herself busy in the garden during the day, and sewed her
children's clothes in the evenings. All this seemed fine and all, but
I still felt like something was wrong about this picture. Since I
couldn't get any more answers from her, I decided to drive off and
contemplate my impressions for a while.
I thought about this buggy of teenagers I had seen at one of the
convenience stores. I have to admit that I had pulled over to the side
of the store upon spotting them in hopes of getting a better look.
Bashfully I ducked into the store and asked the owner if it would be
appropriate to ask them questions. "You better hurry," she had
responded, "looks like they are leaving.." Alas, when I left the store
they were getting away... the final image seared into memory was of
one of the boys holding onto the back of the buggy while it was
leaving the lot, on rollerblades. I found this image endearing-- I had
learned about Rumspringa at the Amish Village tour; when adolescents
must decide whether to be baptized as adult members of the church or
grapple with the personal vanities of the English world. The image of
this young man on rollerblades, hanging onto the back of his buddies'
horse and buggy for dear life as it swung out of the lot, was a
hopeful window into a fresh-faced world-- when the whiplash of an open
road of possibility stretches out before you as you wrestle with
whether or not to conform. As a 23 year old fresh out of college I
can't help but see the human parallel in my own life-- do I choose to
consign myself to the greater pressures of my own society towards
affluent surburbia and professional living, or I do rebel to pursue a
world of opportunity that I may not even know about?
I was so intrigued that I googled the Amish when I returned to my
house. Within the wikipedia site I found out about the sexual abuse
and felt justified about my own concerns as I was driving back. I had
sensed the insularity of the culture when I was in Lancaster County--
a discomforting heaviness that clung to the cornfields and seethed in
the air. And with the family I had met (the one that sold me jam), I
could feel the restrictions, the code of silence and austerity that
was suffocating to say the least. I then found out about your case and
was horrified at what I discovered.
I am writing to you for many reasons. First, I would like to just tell
you how much I admire you for stepping out of your community and for
being such a strong person. I don't know even know what to say, but
you inspire me with your gumption and strength. This is an amazing
profile of courage... the desire to live, and not only to live, but to
give your sisters' lives to them as well. Secondly, I just wanted to
know more about your thoughts on your community and your religion? Do
you believe the Amish community is unhealthy at all and should we be
working to increase law-enforcement in certain areas? I am horrified
at the idea that other victims may continue to suffer in silence and
would like to know how I could help. Should the insulation of Amish
communities be eliminated altogether and should we push for
legislation limitng religious freedom in this case-- particularly in
the case of allowing the Amish to end education in the eighth grade? I
just don't believe children should not be given choices regarding
their education. In some ways I believe it is child abuse to deprive
children of education itself (the avenue by which children can think
for themselves and assert their own rights, as well as afford them the
freedom and agency to make decisions about their own future-- which
all Americans under the law should have equal ability to do). It
hardly seems fair that children should be continually deprived in this
way for generations and forced to live a certain way of life which
they may not desire if they were exposed to other opportunities. Do
you see any good or validity to the Amish way of life that would make
it worth preserving? Am I somewhat misguided in my notions as an
outsider?
Thank you so much for taking the time to answer my questions. Again, I
admire your courage and resiliency. Please feel free to ignore this
email if it is at all uncomfortable for you to answer.
Best wishes,
Karen Song
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