Tag Archives: Love

Puppy Love

I’m allergic to dogs. This meant that I never had a pet dog growing up, but I did have a few of them chase me on my walks home from school. As an adult, I still experience unleashed dogs racing after me, especially when I’m running on urban trails. Of course their owners always tell me that their dogs are friendly, even while the dogs are nipping at my legs and butt. And when I lived in Zimbabwe, I often had to start my morning runs carrying two large rocks that I could throw at the wild dogs terrorizing the neighbourhood. I’m definitely not a dog person.

I’m not sure how I was talked into this, but I brought home a bichon frise puppy last November. The boys named him Shadow as he’s always following us around the house. This breed of dog is hypoallergenic, so I don’t have trouble being around him … at least with my allergies. However, the first six months were very stressful for me, as I couldn’t get Shadow to stop peeing and pooing in the house or biting our ankles or fingers.

The good news is that he’s stopped using the house as his personal washroom. I think the warmer weather helped with this, as did his desire to have free range of the house. He’s also getting much better with the biting, but he’s still a bit nippy when he wants us to play with him more.

Shadow is always so excited to see us when we come home. He’s particularly fond of peanut butter and is extremely clever at convincing the boys to give him some of their human food. Most of all, he loves cuddling with us on the couch once he’s used up all of his puppy energy. It’s these quieter moments that I enjoy the most. No matter how hard of a day I’ve had, I know that I can sit with my faithful friend who always seems to appreciate me.

I’m still not a dog person. But I’m my dog’s person.

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Sandwiches

“Sandwiches are beautiful, sandwiches are fine
I like sandwiches, I eat them all the time.”—Fred Penner

This morning we took our children to a Fred Penner concert held at the outdoor stage at Toronto’s Harbourfront Centre. It wasn’t as crowded as I expected—probably because it was cold by the lake—but every parent seemed excited to be there, even more so than their children. Many of us grew up with Penner’s music and TV show, so there was a deep appreciation in the audience for his positive influence on our lives.

I was surprised by how much I enjoyed the concert. After four decades of performing, Penner is still a great musician and doesn’t seem to be slowing down. Earlier this year he even won a fourth Juno for his latest album Hear the Music, which we bought after the concert and got him to autograph.

It’s inspiring to observe someone who is so passionate about his profession. Not only is Penner’s music highly entertaining, his songs also help children and adults learn how to better love themselves, others and the world around them.

I have no desire to be a musician, but I do wish to work at something that I’m passionate about and that will enrich the lives of other people. But mostly, I want to have a hundred sandwiches and eat them all at once.

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Labels

Stranger: “Excuse me, I see your son is flapping his arms. Does he have autism?”

Me: “He’s actually quite happy and excited at the moment. I hope you’ve found something to be happy about today as well.”

I may be overreacting, but I’m starting to get annoyed when people ask whether someone has autism. The way I see it, our social identity is generally based on how others view us and the labels they assign to us. So when we refer to a “child with autism,” this can lead others to regard autism as something bad that happens to people or that afflicts them, such as an illness or disease, and also suggests that it’s something that can be cured or fixed.

If you don’t believe this happens, take a look at this feature from CBS News: https://www.cbsnews.com/pictures/autism-9-warning-signs-every-parent-should-know/. Actually, don’t even click on the link. It’s horrible. These are the first two sentences: “Parents fear autism, and rightly so. The mysterious brain disorder devastates a child’s ability to speak and interact with others.”

I find this so, so, so, so offensive.

Given that autism is a neurological difference, it’s not something that can be taken away or healed. As such, there is no such thing as a “child with autism,” but instead an autistic child. It’s not something you have, but something you are. When I read media reports such as the CBS feature referenced above, I get quite frustrated as I think they only contribute further to the exclusion and objectification of autistic people.

Although the use of “autistic” still contributes to identity, the meaning is subject to change. This emphasis recognizes that language not only shapes how we view the world, but also constructs it for us. Just as our cultural understanding of blackness or femininity changes continually, so, too, can our understanding of autism adapt over time. The signifier “autistic” can also contribute to the self-identity of autistic people, as autism is part of who they are as opposed to something they have.

As someone who is neurotypical (I think), I obviously can’t speak for autistic people, but I do want to ensure I love and value my son for who he is without trying to turn him into someone he isn’t. As my friend Rhonda noted the other week, it’s time we move away from autism awareness and embrace autism acceptance instead.

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Welcoming

R and I have enjoyed walking the streets of Boston this weekend. The neighbourhoods are rich with history and character, whether you walk on the original cobblestone road on Acorn Street, follow the freedom trail or visit Old North Church, which opened in 1723 and played a dramatic role in the American Revolution.

Although we passed by a number of beautiful and historic churches, I was particularly impressed with how a few of them chose to post public messages on the outside of their church walls. These are a few examples:

“Immigrants & Refugees: Welcome.”
“Love thy (Muslim) Neighbour as thyself.”
“The well-being of anyone is the business of everyone.”

It was encouraging to see these old churches publicly challenging bigotry and racism and encouraging people from every background to feel welcome entering their historic buildings.

This morning we went to Old South Church in Copley Square, whose history dates back to 1669. They also call themselves the church of the finishing line, as the Boston Marathon finish line is located just outside their building. The congregation held a special blessing for the marathon runners, with an additional time of remembrance to mark the fifth anniversary of the bombing attack. The entire service was geared for the runners in a meaningful and relevant way. The church made a point of making every person feel welcome and valued while also challenging us to go and do likewise.

I was touched by one of the responsive prayers:

Welcome to this sacred place:
House of prayer for many nations; home to all who come.
Welcome to this gathering place where none are turned away:
Friend and stranger, saint and sinner, survivor and griever,
Come with hope or hesitation; come with joy or yearning.
We come from many places, with many differences, to the common ground of this sacred house.
When paths cross and travellers meet, there is much to celebrate.

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Status Anxiety

“What do you do?” When meeting someone for the first time, this is one of the first questions we usually ask. There’s a sense that once we discover what people do for a living, we will have a better idea of who they are and what value they offer to the world.

Living in a status-driven society, we also quickly determine—whether consciously or unconsciously—our station in relation to others. Are we more or less important? Who is in a position of authority? Are these people worthy of my respect and admiration?

Some of us may take this a step further and wonder—and perhaps worry—what others think of us. Do they acknowledge my importance? Do they view me as successful? Do they recognize my special skills or abilities?

It’s a sad reality that many people treat others according to how they perceive their level of status. As such, we have a vested interest in achieving excellence and power as this generally results in people treating us better.

When our happiness depends on how people perceive us (and possessing what they have), we become afflicted with what Alain de Botton refers to as “status anxiety.” In his book Status Anxiety, de Botton outlines five major causes that lead to this social disease (lovelessness, expectation, meritocracy, snobbery, dependence) and then offers five solutions (philosophy, art, politics, religion, bohemianism).

De Botton argues that the constant struggle to stand out in the crowd and be different usually only leads to bitterness, shame and depression. While every person is unique, it is still necessary to find commonality with others and build community.

“So it is that belonging is the place where we grow to maturity and discover what it means to be human and to act in a human way,” writes Jean Vanier in Becoming Human. “It is the place we need in order to live and to act in society in justice, in truth, without seeking power, privileges and honours for our own self-glory. It is the place where we learn to be humble but also audacious and to take initiatives in working with others.”

In his opening thesis, de Botton suggests that “the hunger for status, like all appetites, can have its uses: spurring us to do justice to our talents, encouraging excellence, restraining us from harmful eccentricities and cementing members of a society around a common value system. But, like all appetites, its excesses can also kill.”

As someone still learning how to be humble, I do not wish to hunger for status or position. However, I do want to use my talents and abilities in ways that are meaningful and life-giving, not only for me but also for others. I suppose the simplest way to express this is that I want to feel useful and make a difference in the world without striving to be powerful or important.

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