I’m an optimist who believes that (almost) every cloud has a silver lining. Setbacks give children an opportunity to grow — case in point, three tough experiences recently for each of the kids.
Katie: I’m sorry that you are feeling the sting of getting your first speeding ticket (on I-95 heading back from Philadelphia) but I’m not sorry you got one. I’m grateful you’ve given me permission to write about this so I’m not going to broadcast just how fast you were going, but we both know that it was bad, very bad. Not just because you’re getting points (lots) on your license, or because the ticket will be very expensive, or because our insurance premium may go up. It’s because you were driving at a speed that put your life in danger.
You said the officer asked if you were on your phone and you weren’t (thank you) but he told you that everyone else saw him in time to slow down but you did not and that means you were distracted. You said you were rehearsing an interview in your head. But you still need to pay attention to the road. What if that police car had been a child or dog about to run out onto the highway? Or a deer ready to plunge in front of your car? Hitting anything at that speed would have been like hitting a brick wall and you would not have had time to react.
Seeing the flashing lights in your rearview mirror, hearing the siren, feeling the thumping of your heart at the approach of the stern man in uniform — I hope all of these unpleasant sensations are seared in your memory so you will never drive that fast again. I am relieved that it was only a ticket and not an accident because speed and young people can be a lethal combination. Now you’ll have to go to traffic school to erase some of the points on your record and you’ll have to use your hard-earned money to pay for the ticket.
Is it strange that I feel somehow grateful that you’ve gotten your first speeding ticket? It’s really not strange at all because if it’s a lesson learned that might save your life one day, it’s priceless and the costs of the ticket, traffic school, insurance — and your discomfort — are but a small price to pay.
Molly: I’m sorry that my wallet was stolen and I had to cancel all our credit cards, including the one you were supposed to use while studying abroad in France. I’m also sorry that your debit card expired and the nasty ATM gobbled it up so that for the last month you’ve had no credit and no way of getting cash. To add insult to injury, the French mail seems to have failed us and you still have not received the replacement cards I sent weeks ago. That means you’ve been surviving on the money I left you when I returned home one month ago.
Thank goodness for Western Union so that on the eve of your 20th birthday I was able to wire you some money so you could go out and celebrate with your friends. But alas, not a stitch of recreational shopping has been enjoyed and you are in Paris, home of some of the most enticing shopping in the world. That must be so frustrating.
But here’s the silver lining. For most of your life, you’ve never really had to worry about money; you’ve been able to whip out the plastic and charge it to the bank of Mom and Dad or go to the ATM for cash when you’ve run out. But now you know what it’s like to count out your change and buy only what you can afford. Welcome to the way most of the world lives.
We know this situation is temporary — your new cards will arrive — and you know you’re not going to go hungry. But now you know what it is like to live within your means and you’ve had to learn the meaning of frugality, a lesson many of your peers and the American government also would be wise to learn. Hang on, baby. Very soon you’ll be able to go out and buy that new coat we’ve promised you for your birthday. But in a way, your dad and I feel that this unintentional lesson in cash management and restraint is one of the best gifts you will ever receive.
Will: I’m sorry that Dad and I forced you to withdraw from Twitter. We know how important it is to you, especially as a high school freshman, to communicate with your friends. You’ve always known that we watch your social media accounts. You call it stalking. We call it caring.
But for some reason, Twitter is the one arena where we consistently see posts that confuse or trouble us. Actually, an article I read just this week calls the Twittersphere one of the angriest places in the world and this is not surprising. One-liners zapped out on the spur of the moment, without thought, in the heat of emotion, can be careless. Words taken out of context are easily misconstrued, but there is no misconstruing bad language, inappropriate pictures, or threatening tones, all of which we have seen on your Twitter account.
It’s not necessarily what you have tweeted, but it’s what you might have retweeted or what your friends are saying and sharing. It’s mind-boggling that technology and social media have given so much power to young people who don’t have the maturity to understand the impact or permanence of what they are saying in cyberspace.
Please understand that banning you from Twitter is not only for your own good, but also for the greater good of our family. You have the same name as dad, though yours is followed by the Roman numeral III and dad is Junior. But anyone in dad’s professional world can Google his name and stumble across something you might have posted that crosses the lines of propriety and mistakenly attribute it to him. Reputation is everything, and in these fast-moving times, can so easily be damaged with angry or careless words that can never be pulled back or erased.
I have a feeling you might, in a way, be relieved that you’re no longer on Twitter. Heads up: we will continue to monitor your other accounts. I feel there’s a certain peer pressure to participate in certain forums. Now you don’t have to and you can blame it on your parents. Some day you will thank us for this. Perhaps you already are.
Children, please do not feel that your father and I are taking some kind of perverse joy in your recent hardships. It’s just that life lessons come in many different packages that might be difficult for you to recognize. It’s our job to open your eyes because we love you.
