Whitwell TN, paperclips and a plea from an 8 year old . . .

If you're not sure how these three things relate, please read on.  You may call me Oprah if you'd like, because I'm about to tell you about one of my favorite things.  My son reminded me of it Sunday night when he pleaded with everyone in our house (we had a Pop, a Baba and a Gigi visiting) that we stop what we were doing, sit down together and watch the movie, Paper Clips.

Usually an eight year old's plea to parents and grandparents doesn't involve a serious documentary film, but this one is different.  This film, this project, worked its way into Harry's heart when he first saw it and he can't let it go.  I admire him for it, and I thank him for the tenacity with which he hung on to get the family assembled to see it together.  

We were busy.  Folks were coming, folks were going, showers were starting, Sunday night was ending and the whole gang was tired from a wonderful weekend.  Harry got it in his mind, though, that we were long overdue at showing the movie to his grandparents.  He wasn't letting it go.  I watched as we all ran through the laundry list of reasons that late Sunday night wasn't the time to start something new. I heard my own voice reminding me that I was tired, that my children were exhausted, that we had put the grandparents through enough for one weekend.  No one was excited about the movie.  No one had it in them.  Harry wouldn't stop.  I saw the determination in his eyes.  I heard the urgency in his voice.  He took a shower with no nudging to ready himself for the cinema experience.  I began to realize that this was a time that the young shall lead us.  I began to know that we had to listen.   

A few years ago, my dear friend Dan, introduced me to the movie.  I'm glad he did.  We showed to a group of young folks and they were mesmerized.  One of them just brought it up to me recently and told me that she had never forgotten it.  Eight year old Harry has been the same.  He was curious about it, but we dragged our feet on letting him watch it.  I was afraid its subject matter was too hard.  I feared he wasn't ready to hear about the atrocities of the holocaust.  I didn't want him to hear how bad it had been - didn't want him to know that humans could be so horrible.  

We have our own copy now.  Sadly, I found it for a dollar at the bottom of a beat up bargain bin at an ailing video store.  Harry noticed it right away and continued to be curious about it.  He begged to see it, to know what it was about.  

It finally dawned on me that I couldn't keep my young son from evil any more than I could erase it from history.  My children will know about it, they will read about it in all its forms and they will be eye witnesses to things I cannot imagine.  I can't keep evil from creeping into their lives.  They can turn on the tv or log onto instagram and see things I hoped they'd never witness.  It's out there.  Maybe showing them what happens when people don't think for themselves is an important enough lesson to teach.

Perhaps, I thought, Harry should see it so we could all talk about it together.  I can't erase evil but I can tell my children what I think of it, I can tell them about how their ancestors felt and I can brainstorm with them ways to make things better.  My kids saw the movie; and I'm not exaggerating to say that they were transformed.  I watched their faces and I saw as they moved to another place in life.  I witnessed them graduating to a place of awareness.  Hopefully, they won't ever forget what they learned about what one person, or a small group of determined individuals can do.  Hopefully, they will remember.  

If you haven't been fortunate enough to see the movie, Paper Clips, I hope you will make it happen.  I hope you will learn about Whitwell, TN and the unlikely individuals that marked their little corner of the world forever.  I don't think you'll ever forget it.  The story of what happened in this little forgotten town will make you think.  Aside from being a beautiful example of incredible film-making, it will change you forever.  Grab a friend or a child, rent the movie and be astounded at courage and thinking outside the box and transformation.  I dare you.

Thanks, Harry, for making us slow down.  Thank you for demanding that we remember together how important it always is to practice thinking for ourselves and how lucky we are to live in a place where we can do just that.  

It was the best of times; It was the worst of times . . .

and it all happened in the den.

So the other night, we had one of those family nights I was really digging.  It all felt good.  The offspring were forced to unplug from their various spots and assemble in the den for a 'family movie night.'  (We didn't necessarily have a family movie in hand, but it just seemed like time to gather together.)  Summer is awesome, with no bed times and no worries about what's due tomorrow; but often it seems that everyone quietly spreads out when night falls.  It's fun to have nights with all of us home and hanging out, busying around doing this and that.  I'm noticing, though, that everyone being home doesn't necessarily mean that we are all doing the same thing.  I miss that.

If you spend days and nights looking at your twelve year old hooked up to earphones plugged into the large screen computer with her mouth hanging somewhat agape as she mouth breathes, you begin to wish for a bit of forced family time.  And so we called for that the other night.  "Everybody come in the den - we're going to watch a movie."  (I even got in the floor with no photographs to edit, showing my adherence to the family time.  Of that the kids took notice.)  Then we remembered we didn't exactly have a movie.

Luckily, I spent twenty dollars at a 'going out of business sale' in Toccoa, Georgia a few years ago.  Luckily, also, the movies that seemed most interesting to me were not the least bit interesting to anyone else in the Toccoa area.  And maybe best of all, each of my movie choices was a dollar!  In keeping with how things go in this busy world of ours, we've never even glanced at the large stack of movies - but the other night we did.

We settled on Emmanuel's Gift.  It's the amazing story of a Emmanuel, born in Ghana to a world that didn't understand him.  He was born with a physical disorder which left him without the bottom portion of one leg.  Where he is from, folks born 'different' are considered unworthy of anything at all.  They are destined to a life on the streets, a life of begging and being shunned from the rest of society.  His mother saw it differently.  His father left immediately after seeing his son.  Emmanuel tells his story, the story of how he set out to show others that he was as 'whole' as anyone else and that his brothers and sisters with similar stories were to be valued.  You must see this movie and you must have your children see it.  After you watch the movie, you'll find yourself out of excuses for just about anything and everything.  It is heart-warming, up-lifting and amazing.  See it.

http://youtu.be/usN6nu_nuKg

That was the 'best of times' part of the post.  It was one of those moments - you know, when you're surrounded by those you love and you have experienced something meaningful together.  Ahhhhhhh.













Last night, in that very same square room of preciousness where we cuddled together to watch the story of an amazing human, I decided that Tim and I should participate in the nightly 'Just Dance' on the WII.  The kids were excited - they enjoy laughing at us.  They loudly discussed which songs we should do.  They fought over who would dance with each of us, how they could 'get the most stars' and aided us in the favored way to hold the controller.

I did my first dance.  It was lovely, I am sure.  I'm happy for those who got to watch the flailing from behind.  Tim took his turn and I enjoyed my time to hoot and holler from behind.  Then the un-lovely part ensued.  The eldest child screamed to the middle child, "Why do you keep choosing those old slow songs for Mama and Daddy?"  (I had not been aware of their slowness, and I was dripping sweat.)

And then the real special words came . . . the words that make you know that you've made the right decision to stop and play with the little precious people -

The song-chooser yelled out forcefully, "because we're trying to keep them both from dying of a heart attack!  You got a problem with that?"

Ahhhhhhhhhhh.

The best of times.  The worst of times.  All of it right there in the very same space.  I love a varied life.