“What do you want for Christmas?”, or since my birthday falls a week before the big day, “what would you like for your birthday?” In my childhood days, I had no problem rattling off things that I would like to have for both occasions. In my adulthood however, nearly all of it, my answer has always been simple to me, frustrating to others, time.
I love this quote from John Lennon. Asked what he wanted to be when he grew up, Lennon answered simply, “happy.” When I get asked what gifts I would like for either a holiday or my birthday, I answer “time.” Happiness was important to Lennon. Time is important to me.
I stopped longing for material things at the age of 22, when I was diagnosed with Hodgkin’s Lymphoma. Things no longer mattered to me. All I wanted was simple, more time. All I knew about cancer, was that people died from it. As I reached remission, my feelings never changed. Survivorship became about making a magical “5 year survival mark” as if any time after that did not matter, because it rarely got discussed.
But as my survivorship term increased, now by the decades, there is also a reality, and only reaffirms the only thing I want for these special occasions. Treatments that I went through to put my cancer into remission, over time, have caused, and continue to cause cumulative damage. I have had three heart surgeries, a surgery to repair my carotid artery, and two episodes of aspiration pneumonia that went septic. That makes six, SIX other events in my life, besides my cancer that have put my life at risk.
Since my cancer days, these six events put me in a position, that I was not prepared for, nor thought I had the ability, or the fortune, to survive. The reality, is there will be likely more of these events.
Over my years of survivorship as a peer to peer counselor (I counsel fellow cancer patients and survivors), there have been many survivors whose bodies had gone through so much trauma, their bodies could take no more. They had run out of time. As I write this post, I mourn yet another one of those survivors, a special one to me, as she was one of the first I met, way before Facebook, and on the other side of the country. I will share my tribute with her as her own post, as she deserves. She, like so many others, were also younger than me. Time. I wish she, they, could have had more. There was so much more for them to experience.
So yes, when I get asked, “what do you want for Christmas?” or “what do you want for your birthday?”, I respond, “time, more of it.” If there is one thing I have learned about cancer and its survivorship, I have no control over what happens, and I live each day with the purpose of enjoying it. But as my daughters prepare to enter the next stage of their lives, adulthood, I want to see more. And that means, that I need more time. Everything else will take care of itself.
First word. First step. First day at school. Gasp, first date. Watching my daughters grow has been filled with all these wonderful memories. And I know there are many more to come. First job, check. First time behind the wheel of a car, check. But with one daughter now of adult age, and my other not far behind, it is now the next level of “firsts” that will have an even bigger impact on their lives, more than just memories for dear old Dad.
We all remember this scene from the Lion King, where Mufasa and his son Simba overlook Pride Rock as well as when Mufasa explains to Simba where to avoid. Mufasa explains to Simba, “one day, this will all be yours.” It is a turning point Simba, more responsibility, growing up.
It is Election Day where my daughters live. And that means today, will be my older daughter’s first experience voting. I am hoping, as I want it to be, a positive experience for her, one that she should look forward to, and value. I do not remember my first election. I am fairly sure it was a presidential one, likely in 1984. My record in voting until I became a parent, admittedly could be considered spotty, not really having any interest in local politics. Which when you think about it, local politics are just as important if not more so, than the national elections, as your local elections have an immediate impact on you, especially when it comes to your local taxes such as real estate and school district.
I helped my daughter to register to vote. Check.
She received her voter card. Check.
Next, and one of the most important steps, was teaching my daughter, the importance of being an informed voter. Over the last two decades, the foundations of my electoral opinions have been formed and solidified. I do not believe in a two party system, much like Constitution framer John Adams warned about. I do not want to be limited to an “all or nothing” system of support when it comes to my vote. I can agree to some things from each major party, and I definitely detest things from both parties. One thing is certain, there is no “blind faith” or support for each party. I will vote on issues that have an impact on me.
And as I spoke with my daughter about today’s election, I am encouraging her to think that same way. I am doing my best not to lead her to vote for the “lesser of the two evils,” which is how I cynically look at every election. Instead, I want her to be an informed voter. I have taught her how to get informed, and what exactly does “information” look like.
In her first election, is a major decision, for school board directors. There are two slates of candidates, incumbents (those who are currently on the school board), and challengers. Given each of their campaigns, my daughter’s selection should be simple (I want to stress, I have no idea who she will vote for, nor will I ask). Only campaign has spent its time discussing issues, explaining successes, and plans for the future. The other campaign, has offered nothing but smears, lies, incited others to come to board meetings to interrupt and distract from the duties of the school board, as seen many times all across the country. And oddly, during a televised debate, that campaign actually praised the board members, unintentionally I am sure, by acknowledging just how well the school district has done and is doing. But they have offered nothing as far as a platform.
I have told my daughter that it is important not to be distracted by all the craziness of slurs and smears. If she does not hear any issue or platform, there is none. Why would you vote for them then?
So with emphasizing the importance of being an educated voter, and not to follow any red laser dots, comes the big day itself. Clearly, trips to the election poll have changed in recent years and it is important that we get back to the way it used to be, with civility. As a voter, you have the right to cast your vote without being harassed and intimidated. That does not just include walking through the gauntlet of campaign officials on the way inside the poll as they reach out to you, handing you their “recommendations” that my daughter should vote for. I have told her that any interference preventing her from getting inside, or intimidating her, is to call the police and the FBI. Tactics like that are illegal.
No, the next challenge will come when she checks in to vote at her local polling location. She does not possess a drivers license yet, so all she has is her student ID. But as I said, she is a registered voter. Therefore, if she is given a hard time or denied the opportunity to vote, she is to ask and if necessary demand, a “provisional” ballot. This will at least allow her vote to be cast and counted, once election officials deal with whatever bug is up their collective asses with a legitimate voter.
I explained to her, how to operate the voting booth, making sure she finalizes everything by pressing the final button to submit.
And then finally, as she exits the poll, hold her head high for doing not just her civic duty, but something she is guaranteed by the Constitution, vote for her representation. This is how a democracy is supposed to work, not the way we have seen over the last year. It will likely not be known until the morning who the victors will be, and unless the votes are close enough, we accept the results. That is how it works.
Final lesson for my daughter, voting is her right, her choice. She does not need nor is required, to discuss who she votes for, EVER! In fact, it is incumbent upon her not to discuss her politics with others. Actually, this is a lesson I have explained to her as personal for her, just as any religion. To discuss her opinions and choices is to invite potential adversity that she does not want, need, or deserve in her life. It is enough, just to for her to know, that she made an informed decision count on days like today.
Another first completed from parent to child. Still so many more to come.
I wrote once before about one of my favorite childhood sitcoms that I used to watch, “I Dream Of Jeannie.” I referred to an episode where she discovered that she did not know her actual birthday, and the many questions that brought up. It led to her slumping into despair, to the point, that she was fading away, little by little, because she was so sad about that fact.
It was an incident with my daughters and a class assignment that prompted that post. And though I do not recall how long ago it was, it has been more than five years ago. Sadly, it happened again.
I try not to be over sensitive to ignorance about adoption, especially international adoption, and generally only react when it is racist in intent. But once again, another assignment, has provoked a sickening pit in my stomach. My daughter is to interview her parents on what it was like for them to experience my daughter’s birth.
My daughters both know they are adopted, duh. Although there is an inside joke, that even they partake in, that they have my eyes and hair, coincidence of course as I am not Asian, but have the feature of almond-shaped eyes. They do not shy away from the fact they are adopted, but they do not dwell on it either. My daughters have a father and mother. They experience things just like other kids. While they are aware of their culture, they immerse themselves as much as they wish, or not. So, both of my daughters pretty much go through life, like everyone else, not giving it any thought. They are who they are.
In full disclosure, the particular daughter who got this assignment, does not give it much thought when someone asks an ignorant question or makes an inappropriate comment. So, yes, it is me, the parent making the big deal. Because some day, someone saying the wrong thing, the wrong day, will make a difference to her. And really, it should not be this big a deal to handle differently. In fact, she has actually taken upon it herself.
As we reviewed the set of questions that she is supposed to ask me about her birth and our experience, since it is her paper and not mine, she will not need to submit my answers to the eight questions, which all are the same reply, “I was adopted. My parents do not know what it is like.” Take that.
Now, if you are bothered by that answer, do not blame me. That is the truth to questions that were being asked. It would not be the essay that her teacher would be looking for, but she would at least be answering the questions honestly, and if it shocks or hurts her teacher’s feelings, who cares? Her teacher did not care in assigning those questions.
Fortunately, my daughter is a bit more thoughtful. She also took is taking the assignment in a different direction, while still answering the questions, something the teacher could have done.
In the past, we have talked with each other, about the “why” my daughters were adopted, and the “how” the experiences were to us. I explained that the only difference between adoption and actual birthing to becoming a parent, is the physical process itself. Emotionally, the experiences are very similar.
It is because of those prior discussions, she has re-written her questions, so that she does not have to ask her parents anything about what it was like to be pregnant and experience childbirth, yet still explain what it was like to become parents. Because honestly, this type of assignment could trigger any number of issues emotionally for my daughters.
But my daughter will have answers to questions like “did you know your gender before you were born?” (we actually did not know if we were adopting a daughter or son until we were informed)or “how did your parents prepare for your arrival?” (we decorated the nursery and child-proofed the house just like everybody else, oh, we did have travel arrangements to make) or “what was that moment like when I was placed in your arms?” (an unbelievable sense of joy). Do you see how easy it is to ask a question, neutral to either biological parenting or adoption? My teenage daughter figured it out, why can’t a college educated teacher, or Ph. D’s in the curriculum department figure that out.
It is not about not realizing there is actual blood on the other side of the world. They both know that they have biological parents, somewhere. And when the time comes, I have promised them, that we would do a heritage trip, if they wished, to visit where they are from, and quite possibly, meet people who took care of them in the earliest of their days. And yes, if they desired to seek out their birth parents, I would help them.
You see? It is not the fact that their being adopted is the problem, it is that there are still to many who see this of having no value or importance, whether intentionally, or by ignorance. I have allowed them to ask as much as they want, learn as much as they want. But at no point, will I ever make them feel any less, just because they did not come from my blood. Make no mistake, my daughters are my world. And this world is a better place because they are in it. It does not matter how, but at least be aware there is more than one option.
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