Letter of Argument to Dad: I Bought a Toyota!

1990

De Paul University

Writing from the Inside

Teacher: Zoe Keithley 

Letter of Argument to Dad: I Bought a Toyota!

Dear Dad:

How many times have you turned over in that grave of yours over me owning a Toyota? Come on, you can tell me. I sensed you doing it many times. I could hear you saying, as you were pounding your fist on the table, “Ford is the best car they make, you can’t beat a Ford”! “Listen here red-head, I’m your father and I know what’s best”. How could you buy a car from those “Japs”? You would go on and on about those damn Japs and World War II.

I have decided that now is a good time for me to finally reconcile this with you. I have gone over it so many times in my head, just what I will say to you. I’ve been to college now and maybe I can use my newly acquired communication skills to convince you. I want to convince you not only that it is OK to buy a foreign car, but it is a smart thing to do. Ha HA……..

Dad, you never knew about the Department of Transportation recall of Ford Pintos; they recalled all 1971 to 1976 Pintos due to a flaw in the gas tanks. They would ignite instantly upon impact; many were critically burned or killed as a result. This was the most expensive recall in automotive history.

The worst part of this recall was that Ford owned the patent on a new, safe, saddle-type gas tank before 1971. The Ford plants were already tooled to make the dangerous gas tanks; the company’s “Cost-Benefit Analysis”, said it was not in their best economic interest to go through the enormous expense to retool. Despite the fact, it would have saved lives.

Through personal experience, I learned why Consumer Reports (April 1986) said that the 1984 Chevy Cavalier was the worst car to buy. Before 40,000 miles on my 84 Cavalier, I replaced:

         Brakes

         Muffler

         Alternator

         Battery (twice)

         Starter (twice)

         Faulty emission controls

In addition to this, from the time it was brand new the butterfly flange would close in cold weather; this would not allow gas to get through and I would have to get out, pop the hood, stick my rat-tail comb into the flange while I got back in and started the car. The Chevy dealer told me that it could not be fixed, these cars just do that. This is very dangerous for a woman alone, there are places where you would be better off not having to get out of your car to do your flange thing.

And now for the icing – at 44,000 miles the engine blew up. The Chevy dealer said, “Sorry lady but you will have to pay for a $1300.00 new engine”. They would not even see that I got a rental car so I could continue working for the 3 weeks the repair would take. (You will be glad to know, Dad, that through obnoxious assertiveness I got my new engine for $100 and a free rental car).

Being a college student I decided to do my homework as far as buying a car. I spent 4-5 hours in the library researching Consumer Reports about small cars. The Toyota Corolla ranked highest in:

         Least repairs needed

         Easiest to repair and do routine maintenance

         Seating comfort

         Gas mileage

         Safety in engineering  (ie brakes etc).

I have never heard of a Toyota recall. I know that you, being the great father that you were would want me to have the safest car on the road.

I have had my car for 4 1/2 years now. I have replaced the following:

-Things for routine maintenance (ie oil changes every 3,000    miles and tires @ 70,000 miles)

-Horn @ 91,234 miles

-Slave flange @ 94,788 miles

-Sun-visor (driver side, just looked worn)        

-Battery @ 67,000 miles

-2 headlights

Despite all this work I had done, (I say with tongue in cheek you know), it has not started for me – no matter what the weather!

Remember teaching me to drive in Market Square (Jewel) parking lot? Remember teaching me to change my own oil and check the fluid levels? Who says fathers don’t teach their daughters how to take care of themselves – car-wise?  You can take pride you raised a daughter that knows how to buy and maintain a good car. You always told me, “Use your knogen (head) red-head”, well I know that you will now see that I did by the good buy I got on my foreign car.

So, Dad, you can now stop rolling over in that grave of yours and get some peace. 

Loving you and I still benefiting from your mentorship,

Trish

XXXOOO 

P. S. I was very touched that you left mom your L.T.V. (your favorite Ford) when you died, even though you were divorced.

The Key Wonder

1990

De Paul University

Writing from the Inside

Teacher: Zoe Keithley 

The Key Wonder

I was at work. John was babysitting. (Why is it called babysitting when it’s the father, no one calls it babysitting when it’s the mother). He just got her to bed and plopped on the couch. Men dream all day about coming home from work and plopping on the couch. (I used to dream all day that he would call and say he was going out with the boys for a beer, or he had to work late. Then I could have macaroni and cheese for dinner. Then I could plop on the couch after the kid was in bed).

Anyway, picture the familiar scene of a dad on the couch and the darling 20-month-old little girl sleeping innocently in her youth bed. He hears her get out of bed, hears her starts down the stairs, and yells up to her, “Get in that bed little girl”.

She replies, “But daddy I go poo poo”.

Oh no, he thinks, this is just what I need.

“Why didn’t you go before you went to bed”?  He says with real disturbance.

“I sorry daddy”. Say Miss Innocent.

Dad gets up, and goes up into Jenny’s room to find little brown balls all over the room.

He thinks, “Jesus, I’m glad she didn’t have diarrhea”.          

He proceeds to change the diaper and pick up the little balls one by one. Jenny tries to help but Dad tells her that she is NEVER to touch those little balls – EVER!

“You tell daddy when you go poo poo, don’t EVER touch poo poo”. He says with great parental authority.

Thank God that’s done he thinks as he puts her back in bed and heads down to his sanctuary. All is quiet for about 10 minutes and then………..

Just as dads do, he fell asleep on the couch and did not hear her calling him to tell him that there was more poo poo in her room. What was she to do now? Daddy said NEVER to touch poo poo, but she couldn’t leave poo poo in her room, she thinks. She must clean it up. Jenny searches her room with great care and after using all of her 20-month-old creativity finds the solution to her problem.  

Daddy would be so proud of her when he saw how well she did what he said and at the same time helped to clean up the poo poo. She couldn’t wait to see his face.

She slowly crept down the stairs that led into the living room where Dad was asleep on the couch. She had to use great care because her creative idea was a real challenge to do; it was a great balancing act.

She watched him sleep for a while savoring the moment when he woke up and would praise the good work that she did. Ever so gently she touched his shoulder and whispered, “Daddy, look daddy, I helped clean the poo poo and no touch it”!

He awoke with a start, having just fallen asleep, he saw the innocent smiling face of his daughter. There she was so proud of her great accomplishment. She beamed as she looked at Dad and then at the prize in her hand. You surely recall the play keys that are made for toddlers. They love playing with keys so toy companies have made them some pastel-colored keys, put them on a chain, made them larger than real keys so kids could handle them easier. Picture the eye of the key, the handle part that you would hold while turning the lock on a door. Well, it’s made with an ornate circular shape – just circular enough to allow it to hold a little ball of poo poo. Picture this little one balancing the ball of forbidden substance upon the handle of the toy key. Imagine now how she managed to get the ball on the handle without touching it?

Her smile could melt a stranger’s heart let alone a dad’s heart. John laughed so hard he was in tears as I walked in from work. What a sight I had to behold before me. The innocent face of my proud daughter looking with wonder at her dad who is falling off the couch laughing. I will never forget the joy of this funny moment with Jen.   

The Great Escape

1990

De Paul University

Writing from the Inside

Teacher: Zoe Keithley 

The Great Escape

I have no idea what woke me up (I don’t usually wake up at 3AM) but its a good thing I did on that day. God must have been looking out for her. I walked into the dining room, somehow already sensing something funny was going on. I looked out the window that faces north and I didn’t see anything of interest; I looked out the window facing west, and I couldn’t believe what I saw – my 2-year-old daughter was running down the street chasing a large dog. She was in her p.j.’s, barefoot and running with carefree abandon; without the slightest thought that was is not the thing to do. I rushed out the door without a thought either! I called out to her thinking – Jesus Christ what would people think if they saw this. Would they think this poor 2-year-old was trying to escape an abusive parent? I catch her quickly and can only say, “Jennifer, Jennifer!

I do not say more because what do you say to a two-year-old to communicate utter disbelief in her lack of fear, lack of common sense, and lack of even thinking? They don’t yet understand these concepts. I simply carried her into the house, up the stairs to her room, and placed her in her bed. I ran down to the basement for tools.

It had been in the back of my mind, having a precocious child like Jen, that I may have to resort to this. I had one of those little silver hook locks; the kind you can just use one finger to push up and open it. This is a drastic measure for a mom to have to resort to, but for safety, I obviously had to do something. So picture me there at 3 o’clock in the morning, with a screwdriver,  lock, and lamp in hand outside my daughter’s door. (I had to bring a lamp because I already had to remove all lamps from upstairs for fear she would do “something” with the lightbulbs or sockets). So now with the lamp set up, I start screwing in the lock.

My husband wakes to find that his wife has lost her mind.

         “Pat, what the hell are you doing”? He says with absolute wonder.

         “I’m locking the kid in”. I say with surety.

“I just got up, looked out the dining room window, and saw her chasing a dog down the street”.

         “I think I must have known that I would need this lock because why else would I have bought it 2 months ago”? I say waiting for him to say that I HAVE lost my mind, that she is only 2 years old, that people don’t lock their 2-year-olds in, and that I worry too much.

         “Pat, are you serious? He says with utter amazement.

         “Yes, I’m serious!” I tell him knowing it’s hard to believe.

         “Jesus, maybe you’re right, maybe she is a little more mischievous than usual”. He says to my surprise.

         “Well, let me do that, I can do it easier and faster than you can, you’ll be here cursing half the night when you can’t get the screws to go in”. He says thank, God!

Who would think that when in the process of getting married, having babies and trying to get on with your happily ever after one would be doing this at 3 AM? This is life with Jennifer!

The Grape Juice Revenge

1990

De Paul University

Writing from the Inside

Teacher: Zoe Keithley 

The Grape Juice Revenge

          It’s a sunny afternoon. I’m working on the income tax at the dining room table. Jen is coloring in her coloring book at the same table.

“Mom, I want you to color with me”. She says.

“I will color with you when I finish these taxes”. I say.

“Mom it is taking you all day to do the taxes”. She says with impatience.

“I know dear, but it’s a lot of work to figure out all this stuff”. I say knowing that she cannot really understand but compelled to respond to her.

Jen leaves the table for who knows where. I continue to work, looking forward to coloring.

Suddenly I look up and see her standing beside me. She has her mouth closed, the cheeks are filled out as if you held your lips tightly closed and blew air in to fill out the cheeks. I just say, “Hi”, and go on about my business with the taxes – never suspecting her plan.

Moments later she is again standing beside me, but now her lips are normal. I say, “Jen, I’m really trying to get these done and I can get done faster if you will leave me alone so I can concentrate”.

Eventually, I finish the taxes. I get up to look for Jen to tell her and I see my new orange living room chair has a big stain on the middle of the cushion that you sit on. The stain is a purple color. Jen has been drinking grape juice! Oh my God, that brat! She held it in her mouth and did it on purpose because I wasn’t done with the taxes soon enough for her. I am so angry I know that I better not talk to her, look at her, I better just send her to her room.

I see her coming up the stairs from the rec room. “Go to your room and do not come out. I am so angry with you; you better go right now”! I followed her to her room. She sits on the bed. I lifted her up and smacked her butt 3 times saying, “That was a very mean thing to do – it was VERY mean”.

I leave the room, shut the door, and proceed to the kitchen to get a cold rag to put on the grape juice stain. Jen spends the rest of the evening in her room singing songs and talking to her dolls. She would not let me know that she was at all upset about having to stay in her room. Some would never believe that a 3-year-old could premeditate something like this to get back at a mom who would not pay attention to her right when she wanted her to. I believe it.

The First Day of Nursery School

1990

De Paul University

Writing from the Inside

Teacher: Zoe Keithley 

The First Day of Nursery School

This was a big day. Jenny’s first day at nursery school. I was full of ambivalence: was it really awful to want time (4 hours a week) without the kid? would she think I was abandoning her with strangers? would this be a major life trauma to my little 2+ 3/4 year old? Or was it a healthy, stimulating, good experience for her socialization? Oh God, how I debated doing it. Oh, the guilt I felt. Oh, how I longed for 2 hours twice a week to have to myself. Oh, to take a leak uninterrupted. Oh, to go to the grocery store and not have to worry about being thrown out because she knocked down the can pyramid or toppled 12 thousand oranges.

The drive there took forever. She asked a hundred questions. Will there be other kids there? How many kids will be there? Will there be any kids I know there? Will it be a man or woman teacher? How long do I get to stay there? Do they watch Sesame Street in that school? Do they play games? How did even a mom know all of this?

As we drove into the parking lot I saw her raise the door lock. As soon as the car stopped, she was out the door. I hurried to catch up with her. We found her room without much trouble. The teacher was very nice. Miss Collins began to explain to Jenny what they did in nursery school. She introduced herself to the other students. She came to walk me to the door as Jenny went with the other kids to check out the gerbils in the corner. The teacher said I could go now and that it would be best if I kept walking when Jenny started to cry; they all do when they realize that mom won’t be staying. She said just to keep going and act like it’s normal to leave your child. Oh my God, I wasn’t sure if I could do it or not. Did I really have to have 4 hours a week to myself? Did Jenny really need to learn to socialize with other kids?

I got as far as the door, stepped just outside the door, and peeked back in; I was being brave and risking the sight of her tear-streaked face. I saw none. I saw her running up to the door, grabbing it by the handle, and pushing it shut in my face.

I have never felt guilty about pawning off my kid at nursery school. Obviously, she needed to enjoy other kids, to learn that others can care for her, to be away from mom, and to grow on her own. 

The Big Lie

Writing from the Inside

De Paul University

Fall 1990

Teacher: Zoe Keithley

The Big Lie

Here we are driving to nursery school. I am on my way to work, and Jen is looking forward to her day in nursery school. Suddenly out of the blue Jen says, “You know mom, I think you lied to me”.

“I did? About what?” As I searched my brain – I thought that I was very honest with my 3-year-old daughter.

“About a baby being in the mother’s stomach. I don’t believe that”. She says knowing somehow that she is right.

“You are right Jen; the baby is actually in the mother’s uterus”. I say hoping things will be ok now.

“I thought so, it had to be some other place because if that baby was in the mother’s stomach the baby would choke when the mother drinks pop or eats food?” She says with utter surety.

“Oh my God Jen, I didn’t mean to lie to you. I have just always heard moms say that to their very young kids because it is a complex thing to understand. I had planned to tell you about the uterus when you got older”. I say hoping she will now believe me; hoping I hadn’t totally eroded the trust of my 3-year-old.

“Its ok mom, but I thought that I was right. I thought about it a lot. You don’t need to lie to me anymore”. She says with forgiveness.

“Jen, I will never try to cover up a complex issue with you again”. I say with amazement that a 3-year-old would put so much thought into what is told to her. I will try not to underestimate her again.

The Anatomy Lesson

1990

De Paul University

Writing from the Inside

Teacher: Zoe Keithley 

The Anatomy Lesson

“Mommy I want to take my nap with this skeleton. I really like him”. Says my 3 1/2 year old daughter.

“Well, I guess you could”. Say I, the mom.

It was one of those paper life-size skeletons that you tape to your window for Halloween decoration. What harm could it cause? What damage could Miss Innocent do with a skeleton?

She’s not sleeping yet, I hear her talking to the skeleton. I can’t make out clearly what she is saying. Within a few minutes, she calls me hysterically. She is very excited because she found a new bone! (We had spent hours naming the bones on him. I even had to ask an orthopedic M.D. the technical name for the elbow because I forgot and she HAD to know it.)

“Mom come on, I have to show you this bone I found”. Says Miss Anatomy.

“Ok, Jen show me this bone. (who could believe a 3 1/2 year old could get so excited about a bone?) Say I.

“Mom look right here in front, see this tiny little one right here”. She says pointing to the coccyx bone which hangs down from the spine; it’s like the tip of the spine.

“And mom see I know right where this bone is on my body”. As she points to her clitoris. I can see by the size and shape that a kid could surely get the two mixed up. Dear God, I pray to myself – Don’t let her ask me what that bone is for.

“Jen, you were really thinking about that bone and trying real hard to find it on your body, you are close, but it’s not there in front, but it’s in the back and it hangs off the end of your spine; it’s called the coccyx bone.

“Are you sure Mom? It really looks like this little bone right here”. She says still pointing to her clitoris and doubting my intelligence.

“Yes, Jen, I’m sure its your coccyx bone on the end of your spine”.

Well, thank God she didn’t ask what her clitoris was for; I’m sure that will come up another day. In the meantime, I have time to think about what I will tell her.

Christmas With Jenni

1990

De Paul University

Writing from the Inside

Teacher: Zoe Keithley 

Christmas With Jenni  

We always bought a 6-foot tree; we always decorated it with homemade ornaments, the ones Jenny made from the time she was in nursery school all the way to seventh grade. I recall the fun of taking out those ornaments and Jenny thinking that they were so ugly that she could do better now that she was a year older. Even the empty toilet paper roll covered with glitter was beautiful. There were always tons of presents under the tree, mostly for Jenny, the privilege of being an only child. There were those wonderful store-bought Christmas cookies; thank God, Jenny accepted me the way I was and that I was not a baker.

One year she told me she hoped I would never make Christmas cookies again because it made me so crabby. God love her!    

The lights were always hung around the fireplace, up the wall, and around the bar in the rec room; it made the place look so romantic. Jenny’s drawings covered that one wall in the living room. All the Christmas cards were hung all over the refrigerator and the dishwasher. There was that wreath Jenny made from plastic bags that had to go on the front door.

Christmas Eve was the time we went to his parent’s house. God, the presents there were unbelievable! It was hard to fit our chairs in the living room because of all the gifts. His mom would make everyone’s favorite pasty……hmmmm; the smell alone said Christmas. His dad would be sure that we all had a drink of some kind of booze, just to take the tension off each of us – just a taste to celebrate. The hugs were the best part. I’m a real hugger. A hug was the designated thank you for each gift; I really liked that idea. His two brothers would always amaze me with the lovely gifts they would pick out for me. How could they do it – both single, never married, and knowing just what to buy their sister-in-law?

On Christmas morning it was just the three of us. When Jenny woke up she was always forbidden to go downstairs until she got us up; no way did we want to miss Santa’s big drop in front of the tree. Her face was always radiant, and I always had my camera ready to capture the moment. John always surprised us with some homemade fudge, and we were even allowed to eat it for breakfast. Who would want to leave all the presents to go make breakfast? John and I would put toys together, play games with Jenny, and generally act like the kids that we used to feel like on Christmas morning.

Now, on Christmas afternoon it was time to go to my mom’s house. My sisters were always there with their husbands, my sweetheart of a nephew, cousins Johnny, and Denny, Aunt Marc would come with her latest boyfriend, and the next-door neighbor would always bring that yucky fruitcake – we gave it away every single year. Nothing changed much after we three girls were married, had our kids, and were set up with our normal married lives. The grandparents were quite comfortable doing their grandparents’ thing. The kids always felt Christmas was a big deal and looked forward to it for months. Except……………..

John and I got divorced and Christmas was never to be the same again. No one tells you how to keep up traditions when your whole life has changed. That first Christmas was devastating. John and I had joint custody of Jenny; he wanted to split her up so that he could have her on Christmas Eve, and I would get her Christmas afternoon so we wouldn’t be disrupting the rest of the family’s traditions too much. Oh my God, it was so painful. I volunteered to work Christmas Eve just to avoid being alone, I could not have taken it. At work things were sad too; I realized that patients come to the hospital at times like this (especially at an inner-city ghetto hospital like this) when they are lonely. When they are hungry. When they don’t have anywhere to go and it’s such a special day. They must have had some “Always” type of things in their life before they were alone. It deepened my sadness to take care of them but also did give me some joy just knowing I was there for them – at least I felt worthwhile despite my deep sense of loss.

We all take for granted those “always” things in our life, we are sure Christmas will always be joyous – when we have not known any different.  It was not a waste as I see it though. Working in this ghetto hospital made me more aware of what Christmas must be like for kids who can’t afford for Santa to come. At least each of us could still buy gifts.

One “always” about the previous year that had more meaning was Jenny going through her toys and giving the ones that she had outgrown to Toys For Tots; I sensed without words that we were both finding solace in this charity that we had not appreciated in the past. I recall her once asking me why Santa did not bring toys to the poor kids, why were we bringing them toys? I told her that the parents had to leave Santa a check – what a bubble burst for a 4-year-old. Anyway, Christmas will never quite be the same; yet from surviving this very sad Christmas, future Christmases will mean more; we will have grown from the hurt that we survived.   

Here I am 6 1/2 years later and yes, we have created our new traditions, our new “always”. What seemed impossible came to be quite nice. Now we always play Christmas by ear; we plan it around what feels best, we are free to invite new friends, and we are free not to invite someone rather than be forced to do so by traditional traditions.

All men are created equal EXCEPT …

Writing from the Inside

De Paul University

Fall 1990

Teacher: Zoe Keithley

All men are created equal EXCEPT …

-If you are black. If so, you must walk around each day feeling THEM look at you with that condescending look. You can’t hide it ever. THEY always know who you are. How long will it be before the “Dream” of freedom is fulfilled?

-If you are a woman. You must walk with fear in any place where men may be. You must always be on the defensive; you must always protect yourself. You never know which ones are the protectors and which are the abusers. You must always be aware of not enticing THEM because otherwise, the system will blame you for what THEY do. You cannot hide what you are either; THEY always know you are female. How long must women fight for equality?

You must repress and deny their abuse and oppression of your sexuality – your very humanness. If you don’t how can you go on each day? Where do you escape to? You can’t even protect yourself from an abusive husband; the self-defense law wasn’t written to include you.

-If you are gay. You can hide somewhat if you are not an effeminate male or a butch female; some of you can hide. If you don’t hide you must then face THEIR disapproval, disdain, and disgust; THEY fear and hate you. It deeply affects your world. You just want to be free to be who you are. Is that asking too much?

A WAY TO DIE?

1990

De Paul University

Writing from the Inside

Teacher: Zoe Keithley 

A WAY TO DIE?

I was just touching him, caring for him

He was a kindly old soul

I found joy in comforting him

His unseeing eyes, said thank you

His unhearing ears, heard my concern.

His spirit left before his heart stopped

The alarms sounded, they came running – The “Great Saviors”

I held his hand, his body shook –

They pounded his chest, they forced air in.

“They” did this – the intruders.

At 91, who should force his stay?

How dare they slow his natural way.

He needs to go, I let him go

I tell him so aloud!

They are aghast – at my candor.

I touch his face

A wrinkled, now unfeeling face

This touch is for me

I’m glad to have been with him

That he was not alone.

Published in Poetry Annual

A Feminist Folk Tale

1990

De Paul University

Writing from the Inside

Teacher: Zoe Keithley 

Once upon a time, there was this feminist. She lived in downtown Chicago, on North Michigan Ave – the ritzy area. In the 1990’s she was doing pretty well for a woman. She owned a major TV station, was CEO of a major advertising agency, and was president of her local NOW chapter. I know it is hard to imagine that women needed the National Organization for Women back then, but they certainly did. It is good for us to occasionally look back in history to see from where we have come.

“You are my best friend, I hope you will understand that I am not losing my mind. I am just so sick of the way men treat women I can hardly go on.” Says the feminist to her best friend.

“I do think that you are working very hard, and a rest might help you to cope with the jerks.” Says her friend.

“It is not resting that I need! I walk from my apartment to the studio, and I have to put up with catcalls, whistles, obscenities, and the degrading feelings that this treatment causes. Then I get to the station and despite being the owner I still am discriminated against by my peers in the business who do not include me in their “good old boy” network in which they share the industry’s goings on. I still have mountains of advertising proposals that I must reject because they are degrading to women. I face this shit every day, every other minute!” Says the feminist.

“You take this all so personal. All of us women do face this every day, but somehow we get by.” says her friend.

“How can you be the vice president of NOW and say that? How can you betray your own kind?” Says the feminist about to lose her cool.

“Because it takes so much energy to fight it all the time, I guess I just want to live and enjoy life. If I deal with my anger and rage all the time, I wouldn’t get anything done in the rest of my life.” Says the friend, now feeling a little guilty.

“I have hesitated to tell anyone this, even you, but I am desperate. I know how to access a female sorcerer, from the planet Orbious. This sorcerer was responsible for that planet finally obtaining equality for their women.” Says the feminist, wondering if her friend will think she has lost her mind. (Little do these ladies know, but history has already shown that it did take a sorcerer to solve the problem of women’s obtaining equality).

“Run that by me again, I think I’ve lost it.” Says the friend.

“Look haven’t you noticed that since women’s liberation started in the late 70s that the patriarchal system has dramatically increased its violence against women? The statistics show that I am right. Look at all the women killed by serial killers. Look at all the women beaten, shot, stabbed, and killed by their husbands. The courts don’t even send husbands to jail until they kill the woman. I feel that we are now desperate to get help for our fellow women – even if it is from another planet.” Says the feminist.

“OK, I’m with you. I cannot deny it anymore. What can I do to help?” Says the friend.

“The sorcerer is hidden in IBM computers; I have the password and the serial code number. Meet me at 4:00AM at my office and help me try to access her.” Says the feminist.

“OK, I’m with you. I cannot deny it anymore. What can I do to help?” Says the friend.

“The sorcerer is hidden in IBM computers; I have the password and the serial code number. Meet me at 4am at my office and help me try to access her.” Says the feminist.

“OK, I’ll see you in the am.” Says the friend.

Neither slept that night nor knew the impact their plan was to have on history.

“Good morning, you sure about this?” Said the feminist.

“Yeah, the more I thought about it the more I realize that its time to do something out of the ordinary.” Said the friend.

“You know men call the sorcerer a computer virus; they can’t explain her doings at times and of course would never guess that a sorcerer was in their computer – so the term computer virus.” Said the feminist.

(Little do these men and women know that this so-called virus, the sorcerer will be the only way that women ever find to obtain their equality and thusly save the entire species.)

“Is that what that is, I’ll be damned.” Said the friend.

“Here we go I hear the system checking itself now that I have turned it on. Here it is the C>.” Said the feminist.

“Oh God, this is scary.” Said the friend.

“Let me put in the password – Gizmo – . Look now the prompt says Gizmo. Oh boy, now for the serial code number – fe666wo666eq666.” Said the feminist as she entered the data into her system.

“There’s smoke coming out of the monitor, through the disc insertion slot and between the keys on the keyboard. I don’t believe this. What is going on.” Says the friend.

“Hey, I don’t know either.” Said the feminist.

As the smoke died down the ladies saw the screen turn into a large face. The face of a woman from another planet. She looks like our women except that she has a purplish hue.

“Hello. I am a feminist. I heard that you were responsible for obtaining equality on the planet Orbious. I was hoping that you could help our planet too.” Says the feminist.

The face doesn’t move, doesn’t change, or show facial expression. It just stares at them.

“Are you in their sorcerer?” Says the friend.

“I am here. I know all about your planet and its oppression of women. I can’t believe that you have waited this long to protect yourselves and your children. You have been allowing yourselves and your children to be tortured every day of their lives. This sickens me, but I am unable to help unless you seek me out.” says the sorcerer.

“I am ashamed of what has gone on earth. We have been so long in deciding enough is enough. Can you help us now?” Says the feminist.

“Yes, I can help. What exactly do you want?” Said the sorcerer.

“Well, we want to be equal with men.” said the feminist.

“You know that you are equal to men, so this is not what you need.” said the sorcerer.

“What do you mean we are equal?” said the friend.

“Just what I said, you are equal, the problem is that you are not perceived as being equal by society, men and women included.” said the sorcerer.

“Ok so what can we do to change the perception?” said the friend.

“You, feminists must use the TV station. For a 24-hour period, you must show one movie, the Exorcist, continuously. I will work my magic through the movie. I cannot explain the magic to you otherwise it won’t work.

There will follow a period of one week with all men staying in their favorite living room chairs looking as if they are dead – they are not dead but are undergoing megamorphenesis.” Said the sorcerer.

“What is that?” Said the feminist.

“Well it is not of your planet; this is a drastic spell that must be used when a group of people is bent on destroying itself. Your planet is not equipped with the mental ability to think at our level – obviously if women are seen as unequal on your planet you are not very evolved.” Said the sorcerer.

“How can we increase our evolution.” Asked the feminist.

“You can’t at this point. You can only begin by doing what I have told you. I must go now.” Said the sorcerer.   

“Turn off your system and go on with your normal lives once the movie has started.” Said the sorcerer.

Neither of the women understood what was going to happen, but they knew they had to do something – women couldn’t take being oppressed any more. They showed the movie on her TV station as instructed. The sorcerer was right all the men stayed in their favorite chairs for one week. They knew this must be magic because no one thought that this was out of the ordinary.

The world went on without the men for one week. The women had a week without being victims, without being beaten, without being taken for granted, and felt free, competent, and functioned at amazing capacity. The women were growing at 100 miles an hour, according to Orbious measurements.

“Do you believe how things have been this week? I have not been degraded, insulted, or the victim of catcalls all week. How has it been for you?” Said the feminist.

“It has been beautiful. I have sailed through the days and have had a sense of accomplishment because no one has been putting down my work. No one has insinuated that it isn’t as good enough because I’m a woman.” Said the friend.

 The men return to the scene after undergoing metamorphenesis. No one seems to think anything is wrong except the feminist and the friend. The men now see women as witches and fear them. The world is now full of cowering, sniveling men beneath the women’s feet.

“What is going on here, this process of megamorphenesis must have been missing an ingredient or something. Maybe it works differently here on earth.” Said the feminist.

“Yeah, its not what we wanted, we don’t want men afraid of us; we don’t want them to be oppressed by us – we were not looking to turn the tables.” Said the friend.

“Let’s get back into your system and talk to the sorcerer.” Says the friend.

“Ok, your right we have to fix the world’s men.” Said the feminist.

“Come on IBM, bring us the sorcerer. Here goes the password – gizmo – here’s the serial code number – fe666wo666eq666. God here comes the smoke again.” Says the feminist.

“What do you ladies want now, didn’t I fix your men?” Said the sorcerer.

“We didn’t want our men turned into children who feared us.” Said the feminist.

“We wanted to be seen as equal not feared.” Said the friend.

“Ok, let me try again, perhaps if I use phyenopotosis that will work.” Said the sorcerer.

“Go ahead use whatever you think will balance our world.” Said the feminist.

“At midnight tonight, all the men in the world will enter a deep sleep, stay in their beds for one month, and will require lots of blankets on them to ward off bad colds.” Said the sorcerer.

“Is there anything we need to do?” Said the friend.

“No just turn off this damn computer so I can get back to Orbious. Said the sorcerer.

The ladies turned off the computer. They saw the effects of the sorcerer’s work the next month. This time when the month was over and the men went on with their lives they did not know the difference between men and women. Can you believe that? Well, that’s what happened. The world was definitely topsy-turvy. No women got pregnant, there was no romance and everyone was lonely. We all had a feeling that something was missing. The men felt the same as the women at this time.

“Oh, we have another problem that we must go to the sorcerer with. We surely can’t let the world go on like this.” Said the feminist.

“I can’t believe that the sorcerer doesn’t understand what we want; she says her planet solved this problem.” Said the friend.

“Let’s go to my office and bring up the system again.” Said the feminist.

“I’m ready, let’s go.” Said the friend.

They brought up the system on the feminist’s IBM. They waited for the C> and put in the password then the serial code number. The sorcerer appeared as before after the smoke cleared.

“Ladies I have spent a great deal of time and energy on your requests. I have used my planet’s technological superiority to help you and look you’re here again bothering me. Why aren’t you busy enjoying your new world?” Said the sorcerer.   

“The scientific process you used didn’t work the way we had hoped. The men don’t know the difference between themselves and us. There hasn’t been any romance, nobody got pregnant, and everyone felt lonely and like something was missing.” Said the feminist.

“So you do like the difference between men and women, you don’t like the men to fear you ladies, I am left with doing the most drastic thing ever. Are you ladies sure you want your planet tampered with?” Said the sorcerer.

“Yes, we can’t stand the world the way it is.” Said the friend.

“Ok, I will use frapomusion this time.” Said the sorcerer.

“Go back to your normal lives, do not contact me again ever. Do not ask any questions – just go.” Said the sorcerer.

The sorcerer made up frapomulsion, there was no such thing. She knew that the women actually had control over the men simply by virtue of the fact that they raise the children. All the sorcerer did was change the way women see themselves – that’s all that was necessary; when they saw themselves as great, worthy, powerful people equal to men they raised the sons from this vantage point and the sons grew up to see women as equal. That’s why we have the wonderful equal world that we do today in this year 2050.

Rising Above: “I Can” Stories  

Interviewing 325

April 11, 1989

Teresa Carlini

Grade: A

Teacher comments: Held a special meeting with me to tell me this paper ought to be a book.

Introduction

I chose “Rising Above” as my topic because I think that it is the ultimate human growth experience. I feel myself, as Maslow described, “self-actualizing”. It’s how we strive to reach our own unique potential. It is going beyond where you were taught to think that you could go in life.

I had hoped to capture the spirit of this growth; understand it and perhaps obtain the ability to share it. I have fantasies that someday I can infect others with these feelings; I had hoped to gain insight into how we can foster and inspire this growth where it might not otherwise be fertilized.

I feel that I have “risen above” the oppressive attitudes that I grew up with; my dad was like “Archie Bunker”, so need I explain the typical attitudes I was nurtured in? I feel free now to go after my dreams. I want to share my good feelings. I went from thinking that I was dumb to know that I am very intelligent; I used to think that I was unworthy and now think that we all deserve the best. I have come to see the whole world differently. How did this happen? Has it happened to others? Do they know how it happened to them? How do average people evolve and become one of the “Greats” like Martin Luther King?

The value of my topic is immeasurable to us humans. Imagine the effect of rising above oppressive attitudes could have on just one aspect of our life. For instance, the Klu Klux Klan, imagine if they could be taught to rise above their racial intolerance?  Imagine what would happen if we could inspire black females to take charge of the inner city ghettoes; imagine if they came to believe that they had the power to do it, and did it! The value is that it holds hope for bettering our lives through studying positive change.

Studying human experience is precious; one small bit of knowledge about our humanness can profoundly affect us and lead us to learn even more. For instance, psychologists know that human infants would die without being touched; if they die without being touched, can we then stimulate health with the right kinds and amounts of touch?  Couldn’t we use this knowledge about ourselves in these first few days of life to enrich the rest of our lives? Doesn’t this correlate with the fact that when one elderly spouse dies the other one frequently follows suit; perhaps the loss of meaningful touch can lead the elderly to lose hope and die?  Can we through studying ourselves unlock untapped parts of ourselves?  Sharing our human experience is one of the most valuable gifts that we can give to one another; we can learn how to make all of our lives better.   

Methods & Responses

I opened my interview with female #1 by asking her what made her choose my topic. I wanted to learn what it meant to her.  I then explained why I chose the topic and what it meant to me.  She did feel that she had ” risen above” in their life and could identify with my interest in the subject. She was easy to interview; I sensed that she trusted me from the start and was glad to have someone to discuss the subject with.

She is single, 30 years old, and lives in an apartment with a roommate.  She felt she had “risen above” having a severe physical deformity. Without my asking anything further she talked for a long time; she described all her ups and downs struggling to rise above it. She said she thought that her parents were the ones who could not handle her deformity. She described how she would get over one major hurdle only to find herself faced with another.

I asked, “What got you to this point? (Meaning the positive point she was at now). You did it several times and you seem to have gotten stronger each time”.

She described her faith in God, in herself, and in the goodness in the world; she read the WHOLE bible. She read about loving yourself and developed faith in mankind. She said it was a slow process that came as revelations. She found that it was OK to let go of bad thoughts like those of being hurt again.

I said, “It sounds like it is helping you to turn negative experiences into positive ones that you will share in the future”. She said, “Well, yes, it goes from anger that I have to live with this, to, I have to learn to accept this, so I’m going to accept this”. She felt babied as a child; she felt that “they” her parents, thought that she couldn’t accomplish it, so she developed an attitude of “I’ll show them”!  She felt that she always had the inherent power to rise above it. She said you must rise above what people say that you are going to do.

I said, “Just be you and you’re OK”?

She said, “Yes”. This made us both smile and get teary-eyed with joy. 

She said it helped her to look at herself the way she looked at others; her friend lost her little finger and is very self-conscious about it; she said who the hell cares whether or not your friend has a missing finger; so she came to look in the mirror at herself and say, “Who cares if her mouth isn’t straight”?  She knew that a friend wouldn’t care; she came to have faith that if people got to know her, they could look beyond her appearance to the good stuff inside.

There was an “afterglow” after the interview in which she had a revelation that her mom really did help her to rise above; at some point, I had asked her if she thought her parents somehow inspired her to “rise above” and she had said “No”. But now she suddenly feels different about it and feels that she has something new to think about. 

Female #2 is 37 years old, divorced, with 2 kids. She shared my wonder about Martin Luther King. The subject caught her attention because of its idealistic value; she also daydreamed about becoming a person who does great things. I said that I felt free to do the same; we had something in common; this made for a relaxed, easy interview.

She was taught that school for a girl was only marginally important, and that a man would come along and take care of her. After getting divorced she found that she liked being independent; she now feels that she is on an upward swing.

I said, “How did you get on that upward swing”?

She said that she had no idea. She says that she is not a realist, that she’s an idealist who looks through the world with rose-colored glasses. She now wants a lot more out of life, meaning personal satisfaction. She wants to do things that she really believes in.

She says she always felt inspired to do good but, in the past, lacked the self-confidence to act on it. She came to realize that influential people had the same insecurities that she did.

I asked, “Picture herself kicking up your heels because you did something super; can you imagine how that feels and what do you think you might have done”?  She said that she feels at that point now. Her job has been giving her confidence lately. She was instrumental in starting up communication between the people in her business; they had had poor communication for 40 years. She feels that she has been instrumental in improving working conditions and major attitude changes. It makes her feel really good. It makes her feel like jumping up and down and screaming; this good feeling keeps her going.

I said, “Where did this good feeling come from”?  She said that she thinks that it has always been in her.  I said,” Did you know it was there before?  She said, “Yes, but I didn’t know how to let it out.  She feels that she has handled her kids well as a single mom. I said, “So you feel effective”?  She said, “Yes, and now in school I want to learn how to use other good stuff that I know I have in me.”

I asked her how she thought that we could share this good feeling with others. She said she’s not sure that you can actually teach or share inspiration but thinks that you can really motivate. I asked her if her husband was supportive of her growth. She said, not at all; this was the hardest time of her life because she always had supportive people around her. Her husband was an alcoholic. She says this bad experience gave her a lot of strength.  

I asked if she thought that her parents inspired her, and she said no; they just expected her to do “OK”.  She said that teachers helped when they put high standards on what they expected from you; it made you reach further and see that you could get there.

I asked her what happened to her after she got divorced as far as her own personal growth. She said she grew to feel content with her family life and in getting older. She came to feel that age didn’t matter; the growth forced her to just improve herself. She now feels OK in concentrating on what she wants. She said she felt like she was “just” a mother or a maid while married, so how could you think about fulfilling your dreams?       

In my other two interviews, I felt that I was assisting the two males in attempting to “rise above”. Both were slower than the women to open up; I found them harder to interview.

Male #1 was only 21 years old, single, and living at home with his parents. I started the interview by asking about his interest in my topic and he said that he is a musician who has been playing in a band since he was 9 years old and felt that through writing music, he was able to express his most sincere voice. (I sensed that he thought I was too old to possibly understand his feelings; he did not turn his body toward me and frequently looked away until near the end of the interview). I asked, “Is that how you let your insides out”? (Meaning through music).  He said, “Yeah”. I said, “You can really communicate through music”?

He said, “Yeah, exactly, but coming from this area it’s impossible to go anywhere”.  I said, “Do you mean that no band has ever made it out of Indiana? (He’s shaking his head. Yes) So you’ll be the first”! He said, “That would be great, that’s what I’m hoping for”. 

He went on to describe how he and the other band members were in college and didn’t have time now to concentrate totally on their dreams with the band. I said, “So what you are doing now is PLANNING to rise above”? He was shaking his head and, I said, “So tell me about your plans to rise above, it will give me a whole new aspect”.

He said, “We’re constantly recording to get a tape put together to send to the West Coast to a record company. If you want decent distribution nationwide for a reasonable price you send it to an independent label out west”.  His short-term goal is to get a record out independently. He’s also going to college to study broadcasting; other band members are in college too.

I said, “It sounds like there’s more to your group than just wanting to make a record; you’re in the process of educating yourselves in related fields; you guys are smart, you planning more than one way to make it in life”. He said, “Exactly, what I want out of life is not really money; I’m always writing stuff, you know, the creative process. The greatest thing for that is not necessarily the finished product, but some kind of manifestation of what you wrote.” I said, “Your thoughts become things”?

He said, “Exactly, that’s what I want out of life! For someone else to say, hey, I can identify with that. I don’t know what kind of deficiency causes that – ”  I said, “Deficiency”?

He said, “That’s what I think”. I said, “I see the opposite, I see someone who wants to be creative and express themselves in an art form as having something on someone who just wants to go to work every day for the rest of his life”. He said, “Maybe, it’s not fair to say it, but maybe I have more to say”. I said, “NO SHIT”! I think it takes intelligence to do things that way”. He said, “Yeah, but it seems like someone who busted their ass everyday for 30 or 40 years would have more to say”. I said, “I don’t think so, I see your dreams as very realistic and possible.”

He said, “Yeah, I know it’s possible, but sometimes I question whether I really want to pursue it, like just basically writing a song, it’s really a stupid way to look at it I guess, but if you were really an efficient human being you would just say what you wanted to say and be done with it – “. I said, “Why are you putting yourself down? Is this what you’re going to rise above, your own put-downs?” He said, “It gives me something to write about.” I said, “You’re giving yourself blocks to overcome”. He said, “No, No”. I said, “I don’t really see that you have much in your way to pursue your dream, you have all this creativity in you, your smart, you’re going to college, your very young yet, you have all this wonderful potential and your saying “I don’t know”, I think you must be crazy”! He laughs very loud and then says “no”. I said, “You’re putting your own blocks in, why?” He said, “I don’t know, that’s a good point. I never thought about it like that.”

I said, “Are you afraid of success?” He said, ” Possibly”.

I said, “Women sometimes have that, fear of success.

Maybe you have some form of – “Holy shit, what if our band makes it. Or what if I have a famous song, what if I become another Burt Bacharach or a Lerner and Lowe?  Almost as if you see yourself as a regular guy and they aren’t supposed to do great things”.

He said, “I never thought about it like that, it’s true I’m throwing bricks in my own way. Pauses to think. It’s something that I have to do, I have to have a go at it. It’s almost as a defense mechanism if I fail – “. I said, “Oh, I see, but you already have a plan for that, you’re studying broadcasting, you’ve already got yourself a backup”.

I said, “What are your parents telling you?” He said, “That it can only be a hobby”. I said, “Oh, that’s where your blocks are coming from; from parental messages”.  He said, “They told me that from day one”. I said, “So they are the ones you have to rise above, not you? You know that you can do it. Maybe they have a lot of traditional attitudes that you have to rise above”.

He said, “Uh, Uh. They would never believe that a kid could -“.  I said, “But you do”! 

He said, “Yeah, what’s really nice is the people around us; we have a pretty large gathering of friends that come to see us play. That means that we must mean something to somebody”. I said, “So how are you going to rise above it”? He said, “When things start to balance out and we start making decent money we can work on better and better projects. Try to develop a following in the city; in the long term make a record and end up in the newspapers like the Reader.  I said, “So you’re getting a lot of exposure working in Chicago bars”? He said, “Yeah, we are better than 3 out of 4 groups in the area”.

I said, “Tell me what it feels like when you are up in front of the audience”. He said, “There’s no feeling like it in the whole world, it’s really exciting”. I said, “It brings out the ham in you”? He said, “Pretty much, with his head down, embarrassed. There’s something about being out in front of a crowd of people, your adrenaline is pumping, and it’s great. Just writing about stuff that happens, not sloppy love songs, songs about nothing and about stuff that happens. Being able to write a song like that and have people say, Yeah, I can identify with that”. (He begins to turn his body toward me and have more eye contact; he’s more spontaneous).

I said, “Have you thought about writing a song about what it is that you want to do”? He said, “I was thinking about that just now”!  I said, “Yeah, about the parental messages that you need to rise above, I bet a lot of people could identify with that”.

He said, “That’s a great idea, I’ll give you credit”. I said, ” No, just give me tickets to come and see you do your thing”. 

I said, “Can you think of something in the past that you rose above?” He said, “Yeah, in high school the biggest thing that I wanted to do was play in front of a lot of people; starting our first year of college we got our first gig in Portage, and we played in front of a few hundred people”. I said, “So tell me how it felt”. He said, “I felt like I was on top of the world, it was great”. I said, “How did your body feel”? He said, “I was so nervous, and to this day when I get up to play I’m very nervous. It was like stage fright. It took us about 5 minutes to get ready to play. I had been playing for so long and now was my big manifestation of it. The first song I was so tense I could hardly play”.

I said, “So when you went home that night and you were alone, how did you feel?” He said, “I don’t think I went to bed that night”. I said, “You stayed up all night, you wanted to keep feeling that feeling”?  He said, “Yeah, I was so fired up I didn’t want to lose it. It was awesome. What’s neat is that this feeling hits you every time you play. It’s a really big reward for playing”. I said, “That’s what keeps you going”? He said, “Yeah, recently we practiced after not doing it for a while and when we were playing great it felt so good like we were really communicating without saying anything”. I said, “It’s a deeper communication”. He said, “Yeah”.

I said, “So it sounds like your parents have placed some blocks in your way; you recognize them, yet somehow I’m getting a message that you are going to overcome them when you’re ready”.

He said, “Yeah!” I said, “Don’t you think there were people who told Martin Luther King that he couldn’t do what he wanted to do?  You are in the infant stages of rising above; I feel like I want to fertilize you. I think I would be proud to have a caring person like you writing music that my grandchildren will listen to. (At some point he said that he was concerned about some of the junk music that gave kids bad ideas about drugs and stuff).

He said, “Thanks”.

Male #2 was 35 years old, divorced, had several physical deformities, and lived at home with his parents. This was the roughest interview. He refused to be taped, and insisted on sitting in the canteen room where there were lots of people around because he had to smoke. I felt a wall of hurt and machismo between us. After explaining my reasons for the subject, I asked him why he picked my topic. He said that he had always been introverted; he went on to describe the positive feelings that he had after giving a speech last semester in a public speaking class. (I think he was saying what he thought I wanted to hear).

I repeatedly asked him how he felt when he got home after the speech; each time he smiled broadly and described elated feelings. Then he went on slowly to what he was really feeling.

He told me about having polio as a child; about being an adolescent unable to play sports like the rest of the guys because his legs were crippled. He said all he wanted was to be like the other guys, you know, have girlfriends, have a few beers. He seemed positive about rising above these problems. I rewarded these Responses by telling him that this was the kind of information that I was looking for and tried to encourage his sharing with me how he thought that he did it.

However suddenly things changed, and he started telling me about his divorce; he said his wife used to disappear for days at a time; he followed her once and found her with another man.

Soon after getting divorced, he lost his job at one of the mills where he had worked as a machinist for 14 years; he didn’t know how to do anything else. He did find another job, but then had to have brain surgery and could not work as a machinist anymore. He hates the fact that he has to take medication to prevent seizures for the rest of his life.

He’s now in a vocational rehabilitation program that’s paying for him to go to college; he’s having trouble handling full-time classes, no money, living with his parents, and having no one to talk to who understands him; he’s afraid that he’s not going to make it in school and then what will happen to him?

I sensed desperation in him; I sensed that life had just thrown too much shit in his way for him to handle.

He said that he used to hold his feelings all the time; I said that I thought he still had a lot of feelings to work through further. I asked if he had ever considered professional help; when this did not appear to make him angry at all I said that I thought it might be of help to him. I said that he rose above before, but that perhaps there are times when we could all use help in our rising above. He was not insulted but did not pursue the subject.

At one point near the end of the interview, he finally leaned forward toward me while speaking and I could then feel that he trusted me. I sensed that he wanted to let his guard down more, but there were other students around.

He discussed the fact that he likes guns and that the day he went after his wife his friend told him to leave his gun at home and that he’s glad he did because he might have used it. He talked a lot about guns; I was honest and told him as a nurse I hated guns for what I saw them do to people. I worry about this man with guns; I think that he desperately needs help to rise above again.

Theme

“Rising above” as an experience is the development of an attitude that allows you to do what others have either said that you couldn’t do or that seemed to be impossible due to physical limitations. It’s an internal process that leads to the development of self-confidence in yourself despite negative attitudes from the past. “Rising above” is a slow, continuous process; one occasionally takes large steps backward before being able to take small steps forward. Some adversity is essential! If there is nothing in the way of your rising above, you may never see the need to do so. (Attitudinal barriers ARE actual barriers). 

All of those that I interviewed had things that they perceived as being somehow in their way of succeeding. Perhaps we were not programmed to succeed without challenges; perhaps we should look differently upon so-called physical deformities, oppressive attitudes, and negative parental messages; perhaps it’s our attitude toward them that should be changed, why not see them as a hurdle before growth?  Perhaps we should study to learn what is the crucial limit in what will serve as a challenge and what will depress our limits to “rise above”.

Limitations

My study has numerous limitations; too few people for one. For the study to be really meaningful I would have had to interview Mrs. Martin Luther King, Gandhi, Mother Teresa, and other Nobel Peace Prize winners in many different fields. I would have had to interview the homeless and those seen as average citizens; what is the difference between these people? 

Not enough time, especially with the men who took much longer to “open up” to me. Months, not hours, would be needed to really obtain qualitative data.

A scale or some sort of measuring device would need to be developed to weigh the limits of blocks that would lead to growth.

Repeated interviews would have been good; they could have thought about the first discussion and added comments from it in the second interview. It really does help to think about this type of subject for a while; we don’t usually go around thinking about this type of subject.

Perhaps experiments could be invented that would somehow measure the limits and types of physical or psychological blocks that would stimulate “rising above”.

We could develop classes to then use what was learned in the experiments to stimulate rising above attitudes in students. Longitudinal studies could then follow the students and evaluate their “rising above”; did they rise above beyond that of students in their graduating class who did not have the class?

Summary

“Rising above” is a unique and individual experience and at the same time, it’s really quite the same. I think the limit of what we are able to “rise above” on our own, with just our coping mechanisms has a limit, as shown with male #2, who was pushed beyond what he thought that he could “rise above” even though he had the experience of doing it before.

With the two females, I felt that they were both glad to have an audience to express their positive feelings with; one that would not look down upon them for what they may have learned was “bragging”. I think that both of the females will go on to do things of value in our society. Their level of growth and altruistic feelings will bring them to serve us all.

While interviewing male #1, I could actually “feel” him being fertilized by my positive responses to his goals. I sensed that with someone behind him whispering “Yes you can” he could.

I think that male #2, needs professional help; he has poor self-esteem and is not coping well with his life situation; this does not make for a happy mix with an attitude that is positive about guns.

Conclusion

In conclusion, I feel more surer than ever that someday I would like to organize a class of some sort that would give the average person of any age some insight into “rising above” what he thinks now. So many of us don’t think about or question things that we were taught.  Sometimes we are taught not to question or not to tamper with the status quo, even our own status quo, which I would call stagnation.

When my dad was dying of cancer his doctor told him, in front of me, that he would have to go to the hospital and have tests done; in front of the doctor, I said that he had other options, like going home and taking medicine to make him comfortable. Older people were taught that they “HAD” to do what the doctor said, no one ever told them that it was OK to ask for other options. The doctor told my dad that he certainly could do what I said but had not offered the option. My dad was delighted to go home, get relief from pain, and die two days later with his family around him. Even my old, ” Archie Bunker” like dad could accept a new attitude that surprised even me. 

I would love to see creative minds find ways to encourage and nurture positive attitudinal growth in people of all ages.