parenting

Because of you, Ms. Susan

~ TracyMarrs ~ Leave a comment

Because of you,
my children learned to read;
they learned their math and abc’s.

You watched them struggle.
You helped them grow.

I don’t know if we ever told you so,
but we love you more than you will ever know.

You were my children’s teacher,
but even more than that.

You’ve been so very much more
to them, to me, and our family.

Because of you
I learned to be a better mother.

Because of you
I’ve become a better friend.
A better person for my community,
for myself, my body, my children, and
every person I can.

You’ve taught us through your patience,
through your laughter, honesty, and love.

You’ve taught us all these past five years
you’ve been teaching us all along.
You walked with us through the heartaches,
through the confusion, and the tears.
You’ve walked with us so gently,
right beside us through the years.

Because of you my children learned to read;
they learned their math and abc’s.

But because of you, we all moved forward.
Because of you, we have learned to THRIVE!
Because you walked us through our darkness
Because of you, we are truly alive.

Because you are so much more than a teacher,
so much more even than a friend.

Please always remember,
our dear Ms. Susan;
when you see my children succeeding,
when you see my family smile,
when you see our life-long learning,
It’s because you are the awesome you that you are,
Ms. Susan, it was all because of you.

From fishing to bean soup

~ TracyMarrs ~ Leave a comment

The time grandpa lost his patience with me

My grandpa was a kind and patient man. He was slow to anger and quick to smile with us kids – but there was a time he lost his patience with me, a time with Jeff, and a time his dad lost it with him that I want to share. These stories have continued to be told in our family as the few examples of times when grandpa’s patience wore thin.

I don’t know when my grandpa started to take me fishing by myself. I must have been about my kids’ ages (7-10) when I became a good fishing buddy. We enjoyed fishing the Santa Ana River in Southern California together.

My kids when they were little, at the Santa Ana

I was a city kid. My dad didn’t take me fishing and my mom and stepdad do not fish. It was grandpa that introduced me to the river, that taught me about the currents, and that showed me where to cast my line so it wouldn’t scare the fish, but flow naturally so they would bite.

Grandpa also shared his love for photography with me, specifically black and white photography. One winter day, grandpa thought it would be fun to take me to the aspens to take black and white pictures in the snow and catch a little fishing on the way home.

Like I said, I was a city kid, wearing city clothes. A long sleeve shirt, light jacket, jeans, and tennis shoes. If you are unaware of how to dress for a day in the snow and at the icy river – it is not jeans and certainly not tennis shoes.

The day started out beautifully. The aspens were the perfect subject for our pictures – especially in the snow. Soon however, my feet started to hurt and I wanted to go back to the warm car, but I was a trooper and I didn’t complain. I don’t think I even had gloves on – I was clueless.

We had time to warm up in the car from the aspens to the river. It was a pleasant drive as grandpa told me stories and we watched the snow covered mountains and trees pass the window.

As we walked out to the river, I hesitated. I knew the further we walked out, the further we had to walk back – and I was still cold. But, grandpa loved fishing, he wasn’t going to let a little ice on the creek stop him (he had full waterproof waders on). His enthusiasm was contagious as we got to the river to fish.

It was cold – but it was also very pretty. Until I slipped on one of the icy rocks in the river. I fell – hard – into ice, cold water. That was it, I had enough and wanted to go NOW! Grandpa was concerned but I was okay and we hadn’t fished long. I was crying and making lots of noise – between my splash and noise, he wasn’t catching any fish anyways and we hurried to his green Ford Explorer and cranked up the heater.

It wasn’t major, but I know my grandpa was irritated with me that day. His tone was different, his actions sharper – he has lost his patience with me. I felt like a fussy baby, not the tough oldest grandkid of Jack Jones. I was wet and cold and at that moment couldn’t even enjoy the beauty of the snow – it was the only time I remember grandpa becoming irritated by me.

The time he lost his patience with Uncle Jeff

Grandpa told me a story about a time he lost his patience with my Uncle Jeff when he was just a boy. They were walking the river, fishing. My uncle, being a small boy was lagging behind, I’m sure, and his arm brushed against a purple thistle. If you’ve never touched a thistle, it stings! The sensation is similar to how I imagine a hundred burning pins. There is an easy way to ease the pain – you either hold the affected area in the cold water or put cold river mud on it. At the time, my grandpa was already annoyed with Jeff.

Maybe grandpa didn’t know how bad a thistle sting could be but after seeing why Jeff was crying, my grandpa did something uncharacteristic – he lost his patience and got angry. He told Jeff that those flowers didn’t hurt that much and grabbed the thistle firmly into his hand.

Purple thistle
Illustration by Ben Levitt

Now, I’ve touched thistles plenty of times, but never grabbed it to were the needles would press into my skin. Grandpa told the story about how his anger made him foolish and the pain made his eyes well up with tears. He told me it was one of the worst pains he ever felt and it was even worse because it was a pain he deserved because it came from anger at his hurt son. He told me the story to teach me not to touch thistles but also to warn me not to let the anger win.

The time grandpa made his dad swear

I never knew my great grandparents except through stories, but my great grandfather was a good, kind, and gentle man. He was a farmer that prayed and often shed a tear when he took an animals’ life for food. My grandpa was raised a Quaker and according to him, his father never cussed or swore but did have two ‘Yankee curse words’ and I want to share a time of when my grandpa made his kind and gentle father so mad – he said them both.

Grandpa as an adult was mischievous and a bit of a trickster so I can only imagine what sort of fun he must have been as a young boy. One time, he and his friend got the idea to trick his dad. They got a bucket, filled it full of water, and balanced it on the wedged door his dad would be coming through and then, hid and waited.

When great grandpa walked through the door, the bucket did not turn over and instead of having a bucket of water spill out on his head, he had a bucket full of water fall directly, with full force onto his head – and then spill on the floor.

My grandpa said he could still remember the sickening sound of the bucket hitting his father’s head and the extreme sudden remorse he felt. He had only meant to play a joke, not seriously injure him.

Little boy grandpa and his friend stayed hidden out of fear as his father’s face grew red from the neck up and tears rolled out of his eyes down to the floor and he very quietly, but with great anger said “Rats … BEAN SOUP!”

And that is the only time my grandpa said he remembered his father cursing.

I found this image when I typed in rats and bean soup. Kind of funny (it was with a story of a soup company that made rat meatballs which isn’t as funny) but I liked it enough to add as a combo of the swear words – rats and bean soup.

Grandpa Jack‘s anniversary

~ TracyMarrs ~ Leave a comment

Today would have been my grandparents 69th wedding anniversary – my grandfather passed away almost two years ago and my grandma just remarried this week. Needless to say, I’ve been thinking of my grandpa more lately. I miss him so much and I cry more now than I did a year ago. He was an awesome man.

My grandpa and I had a special relationship and part of that relationship was built on fishing. I love fishing because it is a connection to my grandpa, to his dad, to my children, to my husband, and to my grandpa’s family in general.

So today, I was going to go to the creek to remember grandpa, but it didn’t feel right. We went with the kids to celebrate his life but this was his anniversary and my grandma was freshly married.

I wondered what grandpa would have thought. He loved grandma with all his heart. His love was beautiful, their love was beautiful. It was an example for our family and for the many people they reached through their lives.

Grandma was sad without grandpa, her health deteriorated, and she began to feel she could not live independently. Her new husband makes her happy, he brings the bounce back to her step … at 90, my grandma is giddy with new love. I know grandpa loves grandma enough to want her to have that happiness. I can almost hear him chuckle with her at her girlishness. I’m crying as I write this. My grandpa had a great laugh.

So, I didn’t go to the creek, I painted. I painted a fish, a frog, a puma, and another rainbow trout for grandpa.

I think grandpa would like my paintings. I think he would place them on reading desk in the back room or on the bookshelf in the living room. I think he would be happy to see how we have carried out what we learned from him.

I miss him most with the happy times. He would have loved getting to know my husband better, seeing the great grandchildren with their growing personalities. He would be happy to know Mike’s kids live a country life, that Joe’s kids are as athletic as ever, and mine have their mother’s creative spark. He would love knowing we all keep the river in our hearts as a part of him.

So happy anniversary grandpa. We love and miss you forever – here’s some rainbow trout for you – I hope you enjoy them in heaven as much as I enjoyed painting them for you here on earth.

Transmuted interpretations

~ TracyMarrs ~ Leave a comment

The elements in the crucible of the classroom combine in a specific way to transform my base comprehension of alchemy into something precious, something new; new interpretations for alchemy. The transmutation of knowledge was as deliberate as any alchemist in a lab mixing elements to transform metals with both students and teacher as alchemists attempting to create something of value. The purpose of this paper is two part. First, to introduce and validate organic and intellectual alchemy by showing the similarities with traditional alchemy. Next, I will attempt to demonstrate that while the similarities within these interpretations are how I relate to alchemy, the differences in value, personal cost, and availability of both creation and elements is what defines that value and ultimately, these versions of alchemy as transmutations, not replications of alchemy.

At first, I had a great aversion to the study of alchemy. It was very foreign to me and the idea of taking something and attempting to change it into something better bothered me. Also, I am a lover of nature and I mistakenly thought that to accept alchemy was to betray nature. I had the idea that to embrace alchemy, one had to concede that synthetic could equal or transcend nature. So, while I acknowledged that great things had been accomplished through the alchemist’s attempts to recreate or improve nature, I was still uncomfortable with the idea of attempting to transcend nature. Not to mention the idea of individuals spending all of their time and wealth trying to find a way to get more time and wealth seemed ridiculous to me. Alchemy seemed so remote and slightly ridiculous to me until our third class session when we listened to Judy Collins sing William Yeats’ poem “The Song of Wandering Aegeus,” talked about James Joyce’s “Finnegan’s Way,” and Dr. Evans Smith discussed the idea of the artist as an alchemist. All of a sudden, this topic which seemed so foreign took on a whole new meaning and became relatable. Alchemy isn’t just a quest for everlasting life or how to make gold, it can be about change and creation.

Suddenly, I could relate to alchemy. I enjoy art and while I am not by any means an artist, the idea of transforming colors or raw materials into something better, something beautiful is familiar to me unlike the mixing of metals. The attempt of art is to take raw materials and create something of value is like the alchemist taking base metals and mixing them in different combinations to solve the mystery of the puzzle to make gold. Affecting change on the canvas or on a lump of clay and creating something of value can be argued to be a form of alchemy. To differentiate this form of alchemy, I will call it organic alchemy because even though it is deliberate; it is not the traditional alchemy of crucibles and laboratories. To take the idea of organic alchemy a step further, I found I could relate to organic alchemy through my role as a parent.

The alchemical process didn’t stop there with my understanding of and relating to alchemy. From traditional alchemy to organic alchemy, I thought I should also include what I will call intellectual alchemy. While an artist affects physical change on raw materials, so too does an author take mere words and create whole new worlds. This change happens within the mind, it is not a physical creation like with traditional and organic alchemy but it is a conscious attempt to change and create. Authors aren’t the only people to practice intellectual alchemy, I will show that teachers are intellectual alchemists, and we use selected materials to create knowledge and understanding within a specific topic.

The concept of organic alchemy became relatable through my misinterpretation of the William Yeats’ poem “The Song of Wandering Aengus” and because of the name of the character from “Finnegan’s Way.” I like to call it a miss-interpretation because I saw the poem through the female lens, specifically through the lens of motherhood. It may have been because it was sung by a female or because I have recently become a mother to a little girl or most likely, both of these elements come into play. While the poem is a love poem of a man to a woman, I read it as a poem from mother to daughter. In this reading, the mother is the organic alchemist and her precious creation is her child. Like an alchemist, so engrossed in their pursuit for gold, this misinterpretation was so powerful and resonating with me, I did not even stop to think of any other interpretation until I started to do research. I do know this was not Yeats’ meaning when writing this poem but the alchemical process from adding this poem, having it sung so beautifully by Judy Collins and heating it in the crucible of my mind made this interpretation of the poem and alchemy. Here is my miss-interpretation of the poem as it relates to organic alchemy and parenting:

“I WENT out to the hazel wood,

Because a fire was in my head,”

Here we have a deliberate capitalization of the word WENT, the act is deliberate, it is the authors decision to actively make a change. To start the change, “she” goes out into the hazel woods, hazel is associated with creativity. The author wants to make a change through creation and the fire in the head is how the crucible gets heated. Here it is like parenting since it is with the deliberate act of trying to have a child, the parent thinks they will create something more precious than gold and better than themselves.

“And cut and peeled a hazel wand,

And hooked a berry to a thread;”

Here the interpretation is purely personal. Fishing and especially by using a stick and berry makes me think of fishing with my grandfather as a child and fishing with my son now. He taught me to value simple things, like a homemade fishing pole and we always fished with salmon eggs which are small, red and round and look like little berries. He instilled in me a love of fishing and an appreciation of nature as a small child and I hope to do that for my children and grandchildren. It makes me think of so many generations constantly trying to create something better than themselves.

“And when white moths were on the wing,

And moth-like stars were flickering out,”

The moths are out so it is still dark outside and they are white, pure and new. The next line with moth-like stars flickering out actually indicates that it is during a time of transition from night to early morning, the beginning of a new day. This relates to the beginning of the alchemical process of creation.

“I dropped the berry in a stream

And caught a little silver trout.”

Since the berry makes me think of fishing with salmon eggs it makes sense that these lines relates to biology of creating a child. The egg that the author drops into the stream is her own and the stream which represents the father’s contribution also represents change because it is always moving. It isn’t just putting these two elements together that creates the new precious material it is putting them with something that combines and changes. The trout is the child and like a little silver trout, a small baby is slippery and wriggly when it is pulled from the stream, the place where the elements combined and transformed or born.

“When I had laid it on the floor

I went to blow the fire a-flame,”

Here it the author lays the creation on the floor and goes to the work of getting the fire started. I live in the mountains and our primary source of heat is a wood stove so I often set my daughter on the floor with some toys and make a fire for us. To me, these lines represent how quickly the time goes by as a parent, people often say it’s like they blinked and the child had grown. Which is represented in the next six heartbreaking lines, the moment you turn your back the child is grown and speaking your name. Then she is a glimmering girl who calls your name, she is has a blossom in her hair so she is already a child. Next she calls your name and runs and fades away through the brightening air. Children as they grow naturally pull away from their parents and eventually move away and create their own life and family and into the brightness of the future.

“But something rustled on the floor,

And some one called me by my name:

It had become a glimmering girl

With apple blossom in her hair

Who called me by my name and ran

And faded through the brightening air.”

I could not accept the interpretation of the author’s daughter growing to the point that she fades away into the future but that was reconciled through the next six lines:

“Though I am old with wandering

Through hollow lands and hilly lands,

I will find out where she has gone,

And kiss her lips and take her hands;

And walk among long dappled grass,

And pluck till time and times are done”

The author says if this separation from her daughter were to occur to she would wander the earth to find her and kiss her lips and take her hands and walk with her until time and times are done – how breathtaking is that? I see no comment is needed on these lines, they stand so beautifully on their own.

‘The silver apples of the moon,

The golden apples of the sun.”

The last two lines I interpreted as showing that this poem is both personal and universal. An apple is literally a fruit, the product of the parent. It is also round and contains the seeds for the future, a continuation of life through the generations, an attempt to have a part live on forever. Silver and moon represent the female and the golden and sun represent the male. I saw two possible interpretations for the male and female. The surface interpretation that they represent the parents that created the child but it could also be showing that this poem and its sentiments are universal. Since the apples are the fruit that will transform and holds the future then they are the children so this poem relates to how mothers feel to all their children, their silver daughters and golden sons, precious metals and precious creations. This is organic alchemy, a deliberate transformation of two base elements to create something precious.

Sometimes as with alchemy when the elements mix, they do not make a better creation. There are sometimes problems like mental illness which was the case for James Joyce and his daughter, the writer of “Finnegan’s Way.” As pointed out in the lecture in class, Joyce may have intentionally named his character Nuvoluccia to try to transform his daughter through a different kind of alchemy. Intellectual alchemy, changing something through the mind, he remade his daughter Luccia without the schizophrenia as the New Luccia. The artist as an alchemist. Parenting is also so much more than the organic alchemy of creating through the combining of elements, it is also very much a long process of intellectual alchemy. The parent is like an alchemist toiling away for endless hours, often into the middle of the night to effect the transformation from themselves into something better. They try many different elements to effect change in order for the child to transform and improve. This is also like teaching.

The teacher is an intellectual alchemist. They take a selection of elements and combine them into something new and valuable. Had Dr. Smith not combined the exact elements of the poem, the song, and the interpretation of the artist as alchemist, I would not have made such a lasting personal connection to alchemy, which to me is gold. A transformation occurred intellectually that was purely intellectual but it was a combination of elements that created something new and better. The thing that is beautiful about intellectual alchemy is the ability for it to be shared with many people at once. For each student, there is a different creation based on what they bring to the crucible classroom. Each element is necessary for that exact transformation because they each add something to the mix so it is like a recipe in alchemy, attempting to mix the elements for something precious. The teacher like the alchemist toils away night and day over the betterment of their recipes and creations, always striving to improve their lessons and products they create. They also have to choose between the many elements of texts to assign and materials to be included and left out. The teacher, like the alchemist, has an endless combination of elements to experiment and attempt to make a precious creation. The creation of something precious, gold and silver apples.

This leads us to value, how do we determine what is precious and how does availability of creation and elements transform value within the three methods of alchemy, traditional, organic, and intellectual. First to look at what is valued, what is the precious creation the alchemist is pursuing and what elements does the alchemist implement in that pursuit. Next by looking at the availability of the elements and products and how this defines value within each form and inevitably separates each practice of alchemy.

In traditional alchemy there are two primary pursuits, gold and endless life. Both of these are limited which gives them high value. They also both have attractive qualities that give them obvious desirability. Gold equaled wealth and to possess gold was to have wealth which represented comfort, stability, protection, and power. Who doesn’t want all of that? The problem is that if gold could be created, it would no longer be limited. In this case, success in the creation of the precious metal would devalue the gold because it would no longer be limited. The same applies to the other quest in traditional alchemy, life. Part of what makes life so valued is that it is limited. We cherish the time we have specifically because we don’t know how much we have but we do know it is limited.

The elements used to pursue these precious creations are unlimited. Alchemists used combinations of metals, in different amounts, using different shaped crucibles with various heats to attempt to create gold. They used elements from nature and basically any combination they suspected could lead to the universal elixir. The elements for creating the precious goal had an unlimited supply because there were endless combinations. Compared to the goal, the elements have little value but many alchemists spent fortunes chasing the precious outcomes. The personal cost was high even if the elements are unlimited, the acquirement of the elements and the necessary equipment came at a large cost. The cost was not important to the alchemist because the goal was so valuable and to achieve it was worth the great cost. To give an example of personal cost and value, I will relate my current situation.

As I write this, I have my six-month-old daughter sleeping on my lap. It isn’t ideal but it is limited. While it would be easier if I could put her in her bed and type more comfortably, her desire to be with me is endearing. Part of me enjoys holding her as I write. I know that it won’t be forever that she will be sleeping on my lap. Too soon she will be the small girl with an apple blossom in her hair. Because it is limited, I embrace it and enjoy what I can but if it was endless it would lose value. As pretty as it may sound in poetry, if I were actually to hold her all the time until the end of time, it would lose the endearing quality. The ability to endure through the personal costs like back pain and difficulty doing most any task is due to the fact that it will not last forever. It is for only a short time so while it can at times be difficult, it is something of high value. If it was to be endless, it would lose value. Time with children is especially limited, they are growing and becoming more independent progressively through time. This gives childhood and children value because it has defined limits that can only be kept by transforming them into intellectual creations through memory.

For organic alchemy, specifically parenting, the elements are limited and as a consequence, so is the creation. For women, the limitations and personal cost are much higher so motherhood often has higher value in many societies. In American society, parenthood and the creation of a family is the highly sought after quest of many unsuspecting organic alchemists. They desire to create something new and better by using the elements of self and partner which makes them organic alchemists. Art is organic alchemy and parenting is part organic, part intellectual alchemy.

Intellectual alchemy differs from the first two interpretations of alchemy because it does not produce a tangible product. An author may write their words on a page, transmuting them into something that exists within the world but the actual process of creation in writing is purely intellectual. Teaching can also be a form of intellectual alchemy with the goal of transmutation of knowledge. Besides not having a tangible precious creation, intellectual alchemy has the added distinction of multiple alchemists. I would argue that both the teachers and the students are the alchemists and the elements. The teacher is the head alchemist, the one that chooses the elements to include in the lesson but the students are also working toward the goal of acquiring knowledge and understanding. Intellectual alchemy is unique since it requires at least two alchemists and the transmutation which occurs in the minds of the alchemists.

Knowledge while not tangible, is highly valued. The elements used to create it are endless but at the same time, limited. The teacher as an alchemist has a wide assortment of materials for the procurement of knowledge but it is also limited by circumstance. Teachers can only assign so much reading which means with each element they are choosing to add, they are choosing to leave something else behind. Also, each individual brings their own set of elements with experience and interpretation to the material. For each person in the room, knowledge is usually acquired but it is different for eachc individual. Intellectual alchemy is the easiest to successfully practice but the results are never the same. The precious goal in this alchemy is attained and still valued.

This is a major break from the other interpretations of alchemy. Intellectual alchemy increases in value as it is shared. The knowledge created does not lose value from multiplication because it is still precious and unique to each individual. The personal cost of knowledge leads us back to traditional alchemy, time. All of these things cost us time. While science has managed to extend the time we have on this earth, it is still limited and that limitation is unknown to us. Time, our most precious resource which has yet to be produced by the alchemists will remain the common thread to all that is precious because it is the only thing that truly can’t be replaced. It can be transformed into memory and story telling but not duplicated.

 

Works Cited

Smith, Evans Lansing. “The Romanticism to Postmodernism.” Third Session: Alchemy and the Hermetic Tradition. Pacifica Graduate Institute, Carpenteria. 8 Nov. 2014. Lecture.

Yeats, William. “Poetry Archive | Poems.” Poetry Archive | Poems. 1 Jan. 1899. Web. 21 Nov. 2014. <http://www.poetry-archive.com&gt;.

Collins, Judy, and William Yeats. “Judy Collins – Golden Apples of the Sun.” YouTube. 14 Dec. 2009. Web. 21 Nov. 2014. <http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=alIUW_JY03I&gt;.

Right or Privilege?

~ TracyMarrs ~ Leave a comment

Using precise language to clarify a point-

Carlin quote

A little over a week ago, I saw this quote by George Carlin posted on Facebook. As a lover of words and Carlin, this quote struck me and I began turning it over and over in my head. Once I had let it churn in my head, it began to churn in my heart and it became deeply disturbing. What is the difference between a right and a privilege? If Carlin is correct and the ability for something to be denied makes it privilege and not a right; then my rights just became considerably fewer. In fact, it became difficult for me to think of what could actually still be considered a right. Do I have any rights – or do I just have privileges that I think are rights?

In order to understand these words, the best place to start is the dictionary. The Oxford English Dictionary offered the following definitions:

Right: “Legal, moral, or natural entitlement.”
Entitlement: “A legal right or just claim to do, receive, or possess something.”
Privilege: “A right, advantage, or immunity granted to or enjoyed by an individual, corporation of individuals, etc., beyond the usual rights or advantages of others.”

This helped add clarity – a right is legal (from the law), moral (from the self), or natural (inherent) entitlement. The word entitlement makes it really about law – a person may think something should be a right but if they are denied to any members of our society, they are privilege. There has been a lot of talk about privileges. Looking at this quote, I had to realize that there are many things I had thought to be rights but they are privileges. I had to face the fact that I have given the government power to give or take these privileges because I had not tried to stop the government from denying these “rights” to others. Through apathy, I have given these rights away and made them privilege, I now see the error of my thinking.

Our constitution states that our inherent (natural) rights are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness but these are not really rights legally. Legally, a person can be denied life with the death penalty, liberty with imprisonment, and the right to pursue happiness is only a privilege given to those that pursue happiness in accordance to the values of others. The death penalty and imprisonment are thought of as ways to deter crime. Their effectiveness as a deterrent has not been satisfactorily proven for me to think this is an acceptable reason for me to lose life and liberty as rights. However, there are individuals in our society that commit violent crimes and seek to harm others. Violent individuals are imprisoned to protect the nonviolent members of society. In order to keep individuals that have proven themselves to be unable or unwilling to control their harmful desires away from me and the people I love, I am willing to lose my liberty to harm others.

I agree that were I to cause harm purposefully, I should be imprisoned until I can prove to no longer be a threat to others but what about other, non-violent crimes? A person can lose liberty for the inability to a pay ticket, for using illegal (as opposed to legal) drugs, or for the way they parent their child. This scares me because these are all judgement-based crimes. They are only crimes because other people think they are wrong, not because they are harmful or threatening in any way. I don’t mind relinquishing my liberty if I cause physical harm to others but these things are matters of personal choice. What I put in my body, how I raise my children, and how I spend my money should be my right to choose. So many people are fighting for a woman’s right to choose if she wants to have an abortion, something known to cause harm to mother and child. Where is this passion when it comes to a parent’s right to choose how to raise that child? This seems irrational. These things are moral and natural rights but not legal rights. Prisons are filled with people that exercised these rights but found out they were merely privilege. It is evident that inherent rights, our natural rights to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness are not legally guaranteed so they are privilege.

Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness are not rights. Until all the people of our country can enjoy these privileges equally, they are not rights. This is scary because these things can be taken away at will. Laws that are created to protect us from ourselves really limit our ability to choose how to live. Even an individual that has not committed a crime can be legally imprisoned if it can be argued that they broke a law. It doesn’t take long to look in the news and see cases of personal choice being cause for imprisonment. Parenting is under attack in this country. It is the responsibility of every parent to raise their child in a way that benefits the child and helps them to become healthy adults. The way each parent does this is different based on cultural norms and the temperament of the child. A parent can be arrested and have their child taken from them if someone else decides they do not think the way you raise your child is appropriate and they can convince the law they are right and you are wrong. It is a natural right and a moral right but not a legal right. I am NOT okay with this being a privilege. There is nothing more important to me in my life than my children. The thought that the government can come and forcibly remove them shakes me to my very core and gives me fear. I am afraid to make waves or in any way call attention to myself because it isn’t even my right to care for my own children. The fact that I can be imprisoned, even the fact that I could be killed do not fill me with fear like the fact that my kids could be taken from me and kept from me.

One recent example of parents unable to express their parental choice is the case of the Florida parents arrested for neglect because their eleven-year-old son was left alone playing basketball in his own back yard for ninety minutes. This is the time between when the boy got home from school and the parents got home from work. A neighbor called the police when he saw the boy home alone and the police detained the boy in the backseat of the car until the parents arrived and were arrested. There are so many things here that I thought were my rights but now I realize they are just my privilege. Liberty and the right to parent your child were stripped from these parents in the name of child safety. Neglect is a serious issue but this is not a case of neglect. The child was in no way harmed or in put in any real danger by being home alone until the parents arrived. The only trauma this boy experienced was the legal intervention. For a young boy, sitting in the back of a police car as neighbors looked on was probably scary and humiliating. On top of that, the boy had to watch his parents be arrested and taken away. This must have been incredibly frightening and confusing for the boy – much more frightening than playing on his own in the backyard. In this case, the right to parent was forcibly taken and the entire family made to suffer based off of someone else’s judgement of their parenting choices. When I was younger, kids were often allowed to be alone for short periods of time – it was so common that the term for such a practice was latch-key kids. I was a latch-key kid and I enjoyed the time between getting home from school and my parents coming home from work. I knew if I needed anything, I could go to my neighbors for help so I never felt neglected. It gave me a sense of independence and helped me learn how to take care of myself. Today, my parents could be arrested for choosing to let me care for myself.

Another nonviolent perceived right is our ability to care for ourselves in a manner we see fit. People are allowed to alter their bodies through surgery, tattoos or piercings but what we put into our bodies is not our personal freedom. Choosing to medicate through the legally acceptable methods using over-the-counter or prescription drugs is legally permitted but using other substances is not. Every illegal drug has its legal counterpart but we are not given the right how we want to medicate our bodies or minds. The privilege to medicate is only given to those individuals with health care and financial ability to legally obtain medicines. Self-medication is becoming more popular with the use of homeopathic medicines and essential oils but this is only acceptable because society has agreed to allow it for now but who is to say that this privilege won’t ever be taken away?

My natural rights are only privileges and my moral rights like parenting my children and how I care for my body are only rights when they are deemed acceptable to others – so they are also privilege. What is left? What are my legal rights? This is debatable because with the right circumstances, even a murderer can be legally allowed freedom. Law is a thing of privilege. Depending on the quality of counsel, the judge, the climate of the courtroom, and any number of other factors, a person can get away with breaking a law or they can be convicted even when they are not legally at fault. For this reason, we have no rights legally because once in a courtroom, those rights can be legally taken away.

I am still struck with whether or not I have any rights left. The only thing I can think I can control is my own is my mind and my relationships. My mind could be poisoned, I could be institutionalized and put on medications to subdue my thoughts, so having control of my mind is not my right, it is a privilege. My relationships, my ability to relate to others is my right. Once a relationship has been established, the people involved gain privilege. If someone else cares for a person then that person becomes less vulnerable to having their privileges taken away. It is because a person is cared for that a government has trouble taking privilege. The loss of privilege is noticed and others come in to help regain those privileges. The only right we have left is our right to care about each other and we throw this right away through fear, apathy, and hate. We can only fight this massive lack of rights through caring. Caring enough to create change, caring enough for each other to protect the things that should be rights, and caring enough to risk our own privileges to make sure others don’t lose theirs. The problem isn’t that we do not have lost our basic rights – it is that we do not care enough to realize that we lost never had them to begin with. We need to care enough to claim these privileges as rights so we do not have to live in fear of government or each other.