Well, let's set aside the OP and her posts for just a moment and focus on your summary. Can anyone imagine sitting with a financial planner and saying, "I have nothing to put aside for retirement savings, but I'm thinking that maybe I should incur some debt to give my children enrichment opportunities such as travel abroad. What do you say?" I can hear the bemused guffaw from here. After the planner rearranges his or her face into a more professional expression, he or she might say, "Well. How much debt can you afford? Okay. And how will you pay down that debt? Well, if you can afford to make those payments, erm, you do, in fact, have enough to set aside for your retirement and for insurance. That would be my recommendation."

LL: Isn't that funny? I *just* said to my husband last night: How do you type on an iPad? Is there a keyboard? Is it on the screen? Doesn't the screen get dirty? For someone who deeply appreciates technological tools, I am poorly versed on the most current of those tools.

I, too, was initially offended by the tone of the post concerning children as retirement plans. Something about the phrasing and, yes, seeming self-righteousness of it reminded me of math threads gone by. Heh, heh, heh. But then I decided to disregard (perceived) tone and address the (understood) message. How do we make such decisions? We (those who elected to respond) choose this not that, that not this based on philosophies and realities that, as LibraryLover so perfectly put it, "vary wildly." And, as I suspected, it hurts some people to read such discussions. Again our realities vary wildly, don't they? As for the ongoing sub-thread regarding the care of family, I, like you, wondered how responsible assuming debt would be if there were parents and in-laws awaiting care. After all, if you expect care, you expect to give care, right? As a woman who had, by the age of 46, already outlived her oldest child, I think that any retirement plan that includes the assumption that someone else will see to our future care -- no matter how many children we have -- is foolishly shortsighted at best. We often speak of the evils of "entitlement" among the young. I cannot be the only one who thinks that the assumption that my children will see to my elder care smacks of the worst, most selfish sort of entitlement -- that is, the sort that co-opts another's future for my own benefit.

LibraryLover: Yes, again! Quality art supplies and classes? Yes. Instruments and lessons? Yes. A cruise? No. A Dobsonian? Yes. Disneyland? No. Theater? Concerts? Museums? Yes, yes, and, oh, yes. A car? No, to the oldest (and, no, even now, I don't regret it), and uncertain, to the girls. And so on. But this is a difficult thread on so many levels. The reality is that people are struggling to pay for groceries and keep their homes. Others have no health care. Still others are caring for family members with special needs. Extracurriculars are not a consideration, let alone vacations. So their list might be Food? I think so. Mortgage? I hope so. Art supplies? Classes? Not this year. A cruise? Disneyland? Travel? Guys, are you kidding me? And so it goes. One wants to tread lightly in matters where, as we've both said, philosophies and realities "vary wildly."

Some of what you've expressed an interest in is discussed in Maya Frost's book, The New Global Student. After reading this, my daughters became interested in getting their college degree abroad. The University of Buenos Aires particularly interests them, as it not only offers programs in their areas of interest but is also free of charge to all students, including foreigners. We'll see how well they do with their Spanish classes this term. [*wry grin*] Fluency is a while off. (And they'd need to be fluent in order to achieve success in UBA's Common Basic Cycle, let alone their majors.)

(1) One's children as a retirement plan? This is just so thoroughly contrary to any financial planning advice to which I've been exposed that I am... practically speechless. (2) And being "practically speechless," I will repost LibraryLover's wise words: I agree. I don't think it really matters if kids travel as kids. I certainly don't think WDW is 'important'. I think wanting them to have enriching experiences is more about us than it is about them sometimes. A smart, hardworking person with a good work ethic will make their own lives rich. If a parent can send an emotionally healthty and hardworking young adult off into the world, well, that's all anyone can ask. Skills and drive are important; everything good that comes from that will happen in it's own time and financial opportunity. This is a reason I don't discuss or defend our choices. They are pretty indefensible, really. No child *needs* a trip to Europe or a super- $$$ violin. Those are extras, they are not food, water, shelter, a nest egg for retirement in a country where the elderly end up homeless The decisions families make for their own children are theirs alone. They are going to vary madly. (3) Let me paraphrase that last point: Yes, a thousand times, yes. It is so difficult to ask questions about financial planning and decision-making because decisions "vary madly" -- and that's as expected since income, family circumstances, and personal philosophies also "vary madly."

Many thanks, Jinnah -- and to others who have looked and cast a vote. 'preciate it, folks.

bump

Would you please give this music video a look/listen? (The piece is intended for two voices, but the songwriter is singing both.) If it moves you, please vote for it. Many, many thanks in advance.

So. As it turns out, I have had some recent experience in this area and wanted to add a few more thoughts, now that I've read the more recent comments. We are not religious, so I do think I may have conflated the ideas of visitations / wakes / services / funerals. When I urged you to attend, I was thinking of the visiting hours and possibly even the "service" (whatever that may mean for the family) at the funeral home or the church or wherever. If I never understood the phrase "strength in numbers," I certainly did after the visitation and service for our son. Like other posters, though, I believe that graveside rituals are primarily for close family and friends. As for a receiving line, oh. my. GOODNESS. I had been quite firm on the point that following the conclusion of the service, my family would be escorted from the premises by our casualty officer. The funeral director, however, steeped in what is apparently much more common in this area, closed the service... and the door through which we were to exit! By the time Staff Sergeant made his way to us and managed to get the door open, we were engulfed by those in attendance. Dante failed to describe the particular circle of hell that is re-greeting, -hugging, and -hand-clasping all of those people. Ah, well. What is it they say about what fails to kill us makes us stronger? Color me all sorts of strong. And appreciative. Color me appreciative. Yes, with the distance of nearly eight months between this writing and that event, I realize how much I deeply appreciate the kindness of all of those people. As for luncheons and pre- and post-service gatherings, those are not as common in this area, although I did take my in-laws to lunch before the service.

Echoing other posters: The support of others is a great balm to the family of the deceased. Although they may not seem to register your attendance at the time, later, they will remember. They will remember that they were not alone on that terrible day. That you were there. that the woman from the library was there, that the guy from the accounting department and the kid from swim class were there, all of this will matter to them, later, when the numbness wears off.

The Housekeeper and the Professor (Yoko Ogawa)

I, too, enjoy "seeing it click," which is why we spend so much time and treasure on performances and tickets, respectively, but there is no "click" with mediocre live productions. In fact, quite the opposite may occur -- which was my point: If, for some reason (e.g., cost), it is difficult to make live productions a part of a student's experience, one should opt for quality recorded performances over poor live performances, even if those performances are free or deeply discounted. I have. Wishing you much success!

Prior to last night's performance, one of the board members took the stage to remind the audience that ticket sales account for about thirty percent of any theater organization's operating budget. The remaining funds come from other sources, including grants, patrons, and business donors. In this economic climate, the availability of grants and the generosity of patrons of business donors are, by necessity, shrinking, shrinking, shrinking. But economic constraints aside, I don't remember that tickets have ever been anything less than expensive. I mean, sure, if you sit in the nose-bleed section. But good seats to good events cost good money.

It's just four of us here now, and it was $176.35 for our tickets to The Winter's Tale at the Illinois Shakespeare Festival. (Tickets purchased through Ticketmaster.) The Bristol Renaissance Faire tickets are $17.95 if purchased in advance (online), $19.95 at the gate, so it's about $80 for a family of four, unless you catch an online coupon or special. By the time you add food and participation in the myriad activities, rides, games, and attractions (which are described online as "for a small fee" -- SNORT! A small fee? My capacious behind!), though, you arrive at an amount that makes the price I paid for tickets to West Side Story (Broadway in Chicago / Cadillac Palace) look reasonable. Which, to be clear, it wasn't. But we are stoked, anyway. (*wry grin*) So, yes, to answer your question, we go to summer theater offerings (i.e., the Illinois Shakespeare Festival) and the Renaissance Faire. We also attend concerts and plays (and, more recently, opera) during the regular season. We "trim the fat" in other places to make it work, it's that important to us. I know many people talk about free performances in or near their communities, but since leaving the city, we've found the quality of those to be somewhat -- to be kind -- lacking. In my experience -- and folks know I favor live over recorded performances -- a high-quality recorded performance is infinitely preferable to a mediocre community theater performance. Both are free. Spend time with the one that enriches your appreciation of the arts. We learned that lesson years ago when we saw a staged Nutcracker that would have made Diana Moon Glampers, the Handicapper General, swoon. It took the American Ballet Theater's Swan Lake to wash the taste of that out of mouths. Heh, heh, heh. If we lived near a four-year college or university, I'm betting we would have access to better free and deeply discounted fare, but we do not. If you do, check into those to see what might be available. And to address your final sentences... you know, I didn't experience any of these things with my family when I was younger. Well, that's not entirely true: I did attend two Broadway plays with my mother's club, one in my junior year, the other in my senior. Honestly, though, the remainder of my exposure to the fine and performing arts was through my high school. And that exposure was somewhat limited. In college, though, my world grew. And grew. It grew more when we married and relocated just outside the Philadelphia area. And still more during graduate school. It wasn't until I moved to Chicago, though, and began teaching my own children that I began to feel like anything even approximating an omnivore. My point, and there is one, is that while it is a Very Good Thing to give children an education in the fine and performing arts, they do, after all -- as I did -- have a lifetime in which to explore. In other words, if for some reason, one can't get her students to quality live performances now, one need only expose them to excellent recordings, to school them in the existence and value of the arts. The students will, in time, have the resources for further exploration, whether in college or in their adult lives.

The "always on" feeling diminished as my children grew. For most of their lives, though, I have worked from home as a writer and editor, so during the busiest years, I not only felt the pull of my parenting, teaching, and homemaking responsibilities but also the demands of my professional pursuits. Even when I met all of my obligations in one given role, I likely still had unmet obligations in another. But I needed to rest. We all do. So I gave myself permission to do so -- even if it meant that we ordered dinner out or made ample use of Chlorox wipes until I could deep clean the bathroom, etc. It was that or go a bit bonkers because, in truth, there is always something that can be done. The dryer stopped about twenty minutes ago. The squirrels have made their daily clutter of leaves and small limbs beneath the oak trees. My mother-in-law's birthday is next week. Both cats need a nail trim. My youngest has two ungraded assignments. One work project needs a bit more research, and the other needs to be reviewed and submitted. And so it goes. Always, always, always something. But about an hour ago, I finished cleaning up from a terrific home-cooked meal, vacuumed all of the rooms, and closed the assignment book on a terrific reading-thinking-learning day, so it was time to put my feet up for a while and visit the virtual living room. You must give yourself permission to choose tasks that enliven your sense of self because the inability to relax has worn you thin. And if I may be so bold, I'd like to suggest that the first task that will likely enliven your sense of self is to reclaim your bedroom. I don't know how I came to the idea, but from the first I thought the master bedroom was the most important room in the house. I still do. In the early months of our married life, it was the only room in our apartment that was completely furnished and decorated. Even after twenty-five years, it is still the first room I tidy in the morning, and no one may enter it -- not even the cats! -- without express permission. It could take as little as a long weekend to improve your situation. Set aside one day for decluttering, another for deep-cleaning and moving everything to the center of the room, another for painting, and a fourth for arranging and decorating. Reclaim your room, Janie Grace. It will only cost you four days and the price of paint. But it will most certainly enliven your sense of self. And after that, you will be better prepared to begin the hard work of rewriting your interior dialogue, the self-talk that reminds you of all that remains to be done each time you think to rest. Reset your verbal cues to celebrate all that you have accomplished and to give yourself permission to breathe deeply, sit, stare, relax. Rest.

I've been fairly productive since I last contributed -- read The Winter's Tale for our recent trip to the Illinois Shakespeare Festival; listened to My Man Jeeves en route to said Festival; re-read Ender's Game for the Girls Rule! book club; finished another round of short stories for our summer lit studies; and consumed The Sister Knot. I've still got bookmarks in Lars Kepler's The Hypnotist and a few others. Let's see how much reading I can squeeze out of the rest of the month, especially now that summer swim season has concluded. Books read in 2011 (to date): 58 July ■ Radioactive: Marie & Pierre Curie: A Tale of Love and Fallout (Lauren Redniss; biography, graphic book) ■ A Short Course in Canon PowerShot S5 IS Photography (Non-fiction) ■ Short Stories (Doyle, Henry, Poe; fiction) ■ The Winter's Tale (William Shakespeare; classic, play) ■ Ender's Game (Orson Scott Card; science fiction) ■ The Sister Knot (Terri Apter; psychology) ■ My Man Jeeves (P.J. Wodehouse; fiction, audiobook) June (reviews/discussion here) ■ The Geeks Shall Inherit the Earth (Alexandra Robbins; non-fiction, education) ■ Confessions of a Prairie ***** (Alison Arngrim; memoir) ■ Pitch Uncertain (Maisie Houghton; memoir) ■ The Silent Land (Graham Joyce; fiction) ■ A Midsummer Night's Dream (William Shakespeare; play, classic) ■ The Hound of the Baskervilles (Sir Arthur Conan Doyle; fiction) ■ Robopocalypse (Daniel H. Wilson; science fiction) May (reviews/discussion here) ■ Daughters-in-Law (Joanna Trollope; fiction) ■ Sempre Susan (Sigrid Nunez; memoir) ■ Gardening Step by Step (Phil Clayton, et al.) ■ John Brookes' Natural Landscapes (John Brookes) ■ Month-by-Month Gardening in Illinois (James A. Fizzell) ■ The New Gardener (Pippa Greenwood) ■ Glorious Gardens (Jacqueline Heriteau) ■ Midwest Top 10 Garden Guide (Bonnie Monte, ed.) ■ Midwest Gardens (Pamela Wolfe) ■ Low Maintenance Garden (Jenny Hendy) ■ The Complete Beginner's Guide to Archery (Bernhard A. Roth) ■ Know the Sport: Archery (John Adams) ■ Sherlock Holmes: More Short Stories (Sir Arthur Conan Doyle; fiction) ■ The Outsiders (S.E. Hinton; YA fiction) ■ The Raising (Laura Kasischke; fiction) ■ The Life before Her Eyes (Laura Kasischke; fiction) ■ No Time for Goodbye (Linwood Barclay; fiction) ■ Too Close to Home (Linwood Barclay; fiction) April (reviews/discussion here) ■ Things a Brother Knows (Dana Reinhart; YA fiction -- the book that reminded me that I am, in fact, a reader) ■ Illyria (Elizabeth Hand; fiction) ■ The Merchant of Venice (William Shakespeare) ■ Model Home (Eric Puchner; fiction) ■ Mouse Guard, Volume 1: Fall 1152 (David Petersen; graphic novel) ■ Mouse Guard, Volume 2: Winter 1152 (David Petersen; graphic novel) ■ The Worst Loss: How Families Heal from the Death of a Child (Barbara D. Rosof) ■ Beyond Tears: Living after Losing a Child (Ellen Mitchell) ■ Love Never Dies: A Mother's Journey from Loss to Love (Sandy Goodman) ■ After the Death of a Child: Living with Loss through the Years (Ann K. Finkbeiner) ■ Trapped (Michael Northrop; YA fiction) ■ Sherlock Holmes: Short Stories (Sir Arthur Conan Doyle; fiction) ■ The Colony (Jillian Marie Weise; fiction) ■ The Sandman, Vol. 3: Dream Country (Neil Gaiman; graphic novel) March (reviews/discussion here) ■ The Source of All Things: A Memoir (Tracy Ross; memoir, review copy) ■ Heaven Is for Real (Todd Burpo; memoir, religion) January (reviews/discussion here) ■ The Nest Home Design Handbook (Carley Roney) ■ Decorating Ideas That Work (Heather J. Paper) ■ Speed Decorating (Jill Vegas) ■ Flip! for Decorating (Elizabeth Mayhew) ■ Home Decor: A Sunset Design Guide (Kerrie L. Kelly) ■ Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother (Amy Chua; memoir, parenting) ■ Macbeth (William Shakespeare) ■ The Other Side of the Island (Allegra Goodman; fiction) ■ A Lantern in Her Hand (Bess Streeter Aldrich; fiction) ■ Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day (Winifred Watson; fiction)

My daughters have been on a Sherlock Holmes kick, and I remembered this evening that several years back someone here or in the book-blog community recommended The Beekeeper's Apprentice. The protagonist is a 15-year-old, and the Holmes tales are, of course, far from sordid, so I'm thinking I can recommend the book to them. Still, it seemed wise to ask. I'll check back on Sunday morning for replies. Until then, many thanks for your help.

Since I last contributed, I finished Radioactive: Marie & Pierre Curie: A Tale of Love and Fallout (Lauren Redniss) and another round of Sherlock Holmes short stories. I also reread A Short Course in Canon PowerShot S5 IS Photography (a long story) and caught up on all of the periodicals that had accumulated in my basket. I'm nearly finished with Acceptance: A Legendary Guidance Counselor Helps Seven Kids Find the Right Colleges--and Find Themselves (Dave Marcus) and expect to add it, The Hypnotist (Lars Kepler), and The Winter's Tale (Shakespeare) to my list in next week's "Book a Week." As for finding time to read, "Ruthlessly trim your virtual itinerary" is the best bit of advice I can offer. Fewer screens = more pages. ________________________________ YEAR TO DATE: 53 books July ■ Radioactive: Marie & Pierre Curie: A Tale of Love and Fallout (Lauren Redniss) ■ A Short Course in Canon PowerShot S5 IS Photography June (reviews/discussion here) ■ The Geeks Shall Inherit the Earth (Alexandra Robbins; non-fiction, education) ■ Confessions of a Prairie ***** (Alison Arngrim; memoir) ■ Pitch Uncertain (Maisie Houghton; memoir) ■ The Silent Land (Graham Joyce; fiction) ■ A Midsummer Night's Dream (William Shakespeare; play, classic) ■ The Hound of the Baskervilles (Sir Arthur Conan Doyle; fiction) ■ Robopocalypse (Daniel H. Wilson; science fiction) May (reviews/discussion here) ■ Daughters-in-Law (Joanna Trollope; fiction) ■ Sempre Susan (Sigrid Nunez; memoir) ■ Gardening Step by Step (Phil Clayton, et al.) ■ John Brookes' Natural Landscapes (John Brookes) ■ Month-by-Month Gardening in Illinois (James A. Fizzell) ■ The New Gardener (Pippa Greenwood) ■ Glorious Gardens (Jacqueline Heriteau) ■ Midwest Top 10 Garden Guide (Bonnie Monte, ed.) ■ Midwest Gardens (Pamela Wolfe) ■ Low Maintenance Garden (Jenny Hendy) ■ The Complete Beginner's Guide to Archery (Bernhard A. Roth) ■ Know the Sport: Archery (John Adams) ■ Sherlock Holmes: More Short Stories (Sir Arthur Conan Doyle; fiction) ■ The Outsiders (S.E. Hinton; YA fiction) ■ The Raising (Laura Kasischke; fiction) ■ The Life before Her Eyes (Laura Kasischke; fiction) ■ No Time for Goodbye (Linwood Barclay; fiction) ■ Too Close to Home (Linwood Barclay; fiction) April (reviews/discussion here) ■ Things a Brother Knows (Dana Reinhart; YA fiction -- the book that reminded me that I am, in fact, a reader) ■ Illyria (Elizabeth Hand; fiction) ■ The Merchant of Venice (William Shakespeare) ■ Model Home (Eric Puchner; fiction) ■ Mouse Guard, Volume 1: Fall 1152 (David Petersen; graphic novel) ■ Mouse Guard, Volume 2: Winter 1152 (David Petersen; graphic novel) ■ The Worst Loss: How Families Heal from the Death of a Child (Barbara D. Rosof) ■ Beyond Tears: Living after Losing a Child (Ellen Mitchell) ■ Love Never Dies: A Mother's Journey from Loss to Love (Sandy Goodman) ■ After the Death of a Child: Living with Loss through the Years (Ann K. Finkbeiner) ■ Trapped (Michael Northrop; YA fiction) ■ Sherlock Holmes: Short Stories (Sir Arthur Conan Doyle; fiction) ■ The Colony (Jillian Marie Weise; fiction) ■ The Sandman, Vol. 3: Dream Country (Neil Gaiman; graphic novel) March (reviews/discussion here) ■ The Source of All Things: A Memoir (Tracy Ross; memoir, review copy) ■ Heaven Is for Real (Todd Burpo; memoir, religion) January (reviews/discussion here) ■ The Nest Home Design Handbook (Carley Roney) ■ Decorating Ideas That Work (Heather J. Paper) ■ Speed Decorating (Jill Vegas) ■ Flip! for Decorating (Elizabeth Mayhew) ■ Home Decor: A Sunset Design Guide (Kerrie L. Kelly) ■ Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother (Amy Chua; memoir, parenting) ■ Macbeth (William Shakespeare) ■ The Other Side of the Island (Allegra Goodman; fiction) ■ A Lantern in Her Hand (Bess Streeter Aldrich; fiction) ■ Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day (Winifred Watson; fiction)

I only finished seven books this month: ■ The Geeks Shall Inherit the Earth (Alexandra Robbins) Non-fiction, education. Robbins argues that all of those weird, quirky, yes, geeky traits that make it difficult to find a table in the high school cafeteria will translate into measures of success in the "real" adult world (although the anecdotes for Regan, a twenty-four-year-old teacher, seem to argue against this premise). As one Amazon reviewer quipped, the book seems to explain "why the 'preps' are sometimes sitting by themselves at class reunions." Heh, heh, heh. As a parent-teacher, I am naturally interested in young people who stray from stereotype, so I did enjoy this book. NPR discusses it here. ■ Confessions of a Prairie B*tch (Alison Arngrim) Memoir. What a thoroughly entertaining book! With an assured, distinctive, and thoroughly likeable voice, Arngrim describes her harrowing childhood, her life on the set, her castmates, and her journey into adulthood. Some readers may be shocked by her somewhat salty talk, but I was completely engaged. Recommended. ■ Pitch Uncertain (Maisie Houghton) Memoir; review copy. Related entry here. ■ The Silent Land (Graham Joyce) Fiction. A happily married if somewhat immature couple on winter holiday discovers the nature of love amid a series of unsettling events. This quickly-consumed novel reminded me of "LOST" and "The Twilight Zone," and I thoroughly enjoyed it. ■ A Midsummer Night's Dream (William Shakespeare) Play, classic. Related entries here and here. ■ The Hound of the Baskervilles (Sir Arthur Conan Doyle) Fiction. With the Misses. Family film night this weekend will Jeremy Brett's take on this classic. By the way, I read this and A Midsummer Night's Dream on the Kindle. ■ Robopocalypse (Daniel H. Wilson) Science fiction. Weary of vampires and zombies? It's humans versus -- you guessed it! -- robots in this entertaining tale that is told in a manner similar to World War Z (Max Brooks), a book I keep promising myself to read (my son recommended it to me several times). Bookmarked Although the following are not included in the June count, I am nearly done with them / plan to finish them over the coming week (or two) of (mostly) digital fasting. * ■ A New Culture of Learning: Cultivating the Imagination for a World of Constant Change (Douglas Thomas and John Seely Brown) Education. This title appeared on a list of summer reading suggestions. Wish I could remember who sent me the list.... ■ Radioactive: Marie & Pierre Curie: A Tale of Love and Fallout (Lauren Redniss) Biography, graphic book. What an artful combination of science and romance. ■ This Girl Is Different (J.J. Johnson) Fiction. A mostly predictable YA treatment of the "homeschooled kid decides to attend public high school -- and change the world!" story. ■ The Hypnotist (Lars Kepler) Fiction. Poolside reading courtesy of the wave of Nordic lit enjoying such popularity here in the States. * It's nothing cryptic. It's not even inspired by recent reading. We're just a little busier than is our wont, and I know how to recover a couple of hours, right quick. _____________________________ YEAR TO DATE: 51 books June (reviews/discussion here) ■ The Geeks Shall Inherit the Earth (Alexandra Robbins; non-fiction, education) ■ Confessions of a Prairie ***** (Alison Arngrim; memoir) ■ Pitch Uncertain (Maisie Houghton; memoir) ■ The Silent Land (Graham Joyce; fiction) ■ A Midsummer Night's Dream (William Shakespeare; play, classic) ■ The Hound of the Baskervilles (Sir Arthur Conan Doyle; fiction) ■ Robopocalypse (Daniel H. Wilson; science fiction) May (reviews/discussion here) ■ Daughters-in-Law (Joanna Trollope; fiction) ■ Sempre Susan (Sigrid Nunez; memoir) ■ Gardening Step by Step (Phil Clayton, et al.) ■ John Brookes' Natural Landscapes (John Brookes) ■ Month-by-Month Gardening in Illinois (James A. Fizzell) ■ The New Gardener (Pippa Greenwood) ■ Glorious Gardens (Jacqueline Heriteau) ■ Midwest Top 10 Garden Guide (Bonnie Monte, ed.) ■ Midwest Gardens (Pamela Wolfe) ■ Low Maintenance Garden (Jenny Hendy) ■ The Complete Beginner's Guide to Archery (Bernhard A. Roth) ■ Know the Sport: Archery (John Adams) ■ Sherlock Holmes: More Short Stories (Sir Arthur Conan Doyle; fiction) ■ The Outsiders (S.E. Hinton; YA fiction) ■ The Raising (Laura Kasischke; fiction) ■ The Life before Her Eyes (Laura Kasischke; fiction) ■ No Time for Goodbye (Linwood Barclay; fiction) ■ Too Close to Home (Linwood Barclay; fiction) April (reviews/discussion here) ■ Things a Brother Knows (Dana Reinhart; YA fiction -- the book that reminded me that I am, in fact, a reader) ■ Illyria (Elizabeth Hand; fiction) ■ The Merchant of Venice (William Shakespeare) ■ Model Home (Eric Puchner; fiction) ■ Mouse Guard, Volume 1: Fall 1152 (David Petersen; graphic novel) ■ Mouse Guard, Volume 2: Winter 1152 (David Petersen; graphic novel) ■ The Worst Loss: How Families Heal from the Death of a Child (Barbara D. Rosof) ■ Beyond Tears: Living after Losing a Child (Ellen Mitchell) ■ Love Never Dies: A Mother's Journey from Loss to Love (Sandy Goodman) ■ After the Death of a Child: Living with Loss through the Years (Ann K. Finkbeiner) ■ Trapped (Michael Northrop; YA fiction) ■ Sherlock Holmes: Short Stories (Sir Arthur Conan Doyle; fiction) ■ The Colony (Jillian Marie Weise; fiction) ■ The Sandman, Vol. 3: Dream Country (Neil Gaiman; graphic novel) March (reviews/discussion here) ■ The Source of All Things: A Memoir (Tracy Ross; memoir, review copy) ■ Heaven Is for Real (Todd Burpo; memoir, religion) January (reviews/discussion here) ■ The Nest Home Design Handbook (Carley Roney) ■ Decorating Ideas That Work (Heather J. Paper) ■ Speed Decorating (Jill Vegas) ■ Flip! for Decorating (Elizabeth Mayhew) ■ Home Decor: A Sunset Design Guide (Kerrie L. Kelly) ■ Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother (Amy Chua; memoir, parenting) ■ Macbeth (William Shakespeare) ■ The Other Side of the Island (Allegra Goodman; fiction) ■ A Lantern in Her Hand (Bess Streeter Aldrich; fiction) ■ Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day (Winifred Watson; fiction)

From Bachelor Brothers' Bed & Breakfast (Bill Richardson): Many people have had this experience, I think, especially where music is concerned. We become steeped in the notion that if we can't excel, there's little point in pursuit. _________________________________ I have regularly likened my music studies to learning a second language as an adult: No matter how much I practice, facility eludes me, and my "accent" is unmistakable. And yet I derive so much pleasure from the pursuit! Moreover, my studies have enhanced my daughters' studies: Their practice sessions are informed by my empathy and my understanding, however limited, of what can be gained through repetition, diligence, and earnest effort. And while my own execution may splutter and collide, I do understand what is written on the page. I can remind them of dynamics and time and key signatures. I can hear a note that seems off. I can suggest alternate "attacks" on difficult passages. I can guide and gently correct. And though their technical skill far outstrips mine, I match -- and occasionally exceed -- their enthusiasm for a challenge. This enlivens our studies. (Related aside: I often wonder how music students fare in homes in which the parents dutifully schedule and pay for music lessons but play no active role in the practice (beyond periodic nagging). I would imagine that sans a real gift for music, a student without meaningful support at home must struggle with the seemingly unrewarding rigors of practice.) To answer my own question, then, the pursuit is the point. I suspect, though, that, family dynamics aside, your mother may be speaking from a place where resources -- time, talent, and treasure -- were distributed carefully. I know that in my own childhood home, there simply were not enough resources to pursue activities simply because we were interested. Even when we demonstrated aptitude or talent, we were routinely told, "No," which meant, "There is no time or money for this." It wasn't difficult, then, to discern the subtext when my mother commented on my daughters' art projects, pointing out that one daughter was a "real" artist. (Subtext: The other is not. Why are you spending time and money on classes and supplies for her?) Rather than bristle at her ignorance, I told her that art was objective and moved on to other subjects. As it turns out, both are artists. One daughter simply took longer to harness her ability. Can you imagine how it would have stunted her interest and skill if I had adopted my mother's philosophy? I agree with Abbeyj, though, that you must not dismiss your mother's thinking entirely: There is little to be lost and much to be gained by regularly assessing your child's interest in a pursuit. Several years ago, my daughters were acquainted with a girl who loathed swimming. Her mother routinely described her battles with the girl over it. One day, after the girl dragged herself out of the pool -- last -- and stomped past her mother without a word, her mother began narrating afresh her struggles to get the kid to practice, to meets, etc. I replied, "Well, no question, she hates it." The mother went silent. It was as if this was the first time the idea had occurred to her. Next season? The kid wasn't registered. (And, yes, I sometimes feel a twinge of guilt: Did I have something to do with this? But then I think, no. It wasn't as if I said, "She hates swimming, ya' ninny! Why do you make her do it?" Right? Right. Not my fault.) Anyway, if your daughter loves to dance, then the pursuit is the point for her.

I know. I know. Someone will chime in with the snob argument. I'm prepared, though. In Snobbery: The American Version, Joseph Epstein writes: High standards generally — about workmanship in the creation of objects, about what is owed in friendship, about the quality of art, and much else — far from being snobbish, are required to maintain decency in life. When the people who value these things are called snobs, the word is usually being used in a purely sour-grapes way. 'Elitist,' a politically super-charged word, is almost invariably another sour-grapes word, at least when used to denigrate people who insist on a high standard... Delight in excellence is easily confused with snobbery by the ignorant. Delight in excellence is easily confused with snobbery by the ignorant. Yes. Yes. That's it precisely. As one of "those people" who work to help students achieve academic excellence, I've always, well, delighted in this passage since it so neatly summarizes my early experience trying to discuss such issues as academic standards and teacher quality (and, by extension, qualifications). Slapped with the elitist label one too many times, though, I grew quiet. But we continue to use excellence as our byword.

Do you like your teenagers? I do. And other adults do, too. They (my teenagers) are (and were) the sort of people who make others scratch their heads and ask why their kids can't be more like so-and-so. But -- and to me this is awe-inspiring -- my teens are (and were) also well regarded among their peers. I often wonder what magic powder was sprinkled on them because that, my friends, is a tricksy balance. So is there hope for me? Oh, sure. Are there any teenagers out there who aren't disrespectful, self-centered, or obnoxious? Yes, but that does seem to be a reliable stereotype, doesn't it? I've met a lot of teens who possess one or more of these three traits. Heck, I think *I* possessed one or more of these three traits as a teen. But while I do think luck plays a larger role in parenting and teaching than is regularly acknowledged, I also believe that quality parenting, teaching, coaching, and/or mentoring (i.e., that done with excellence, consistency, skill, and love) can reduce -- if not eliminate -- disrespect, self-absorption, and obnoxiousness in people of any age, not just teens. A few years ago, I wrote a post "On parenting teenagers": 1. Encourage their pursuit of a sport that challenges and exhausts them (e.g., cross country running, swimming, rigorous martial arts training). 2. Connect them with meaningful work and support their efforts. 3. At the very least, treat them with the same regard that you would tender an office associate. You would never, for example, shout at or disparage or lecture someone in an office scenario -- not even a subordinate, right? Well, approach the training of the young people in your life with -- at minimum -- the level of respect you would accord fellow employees. 4. Give them all of the food and rest they need when they need it. 5. Well before their teen years, subtly guide them toward an interest or two that you share (e.g., birding or carpentry or flying or whatever). This way, no matter what, you'll have something in common. 6. Even if they grow to be your friends, never forget that you are their parents.

From Janet Chiauzzi's letter to the eleven-year-old son of her son's Little League coach: Tell your stupid father to back away from the East Meadow baseball team or he will be sorry. There are other things in life than baseball and if he wants to enjoy them he will get out of East Meadow baseball for good. Accidents happen and I would hate to see something happen to your mom or dad or sister because of your dad's stupidity.... Related news items here, here, and here. There are other things in life than baseball. Had she only heeded her own words, eh? Bob Cook, who writes a youth sports blog for Forbes, opines on the Chiauzzi case in today's entry: The other rational economic response is to say, it is worth the time and effort and money, because only by paying that cost can my child even have a chance of being that one out of 100. And, often, that response is not only rational, but correct. Out of that other rational economic response [to youth sports] comes other decisions that can be declared rational economically, though certainly not rational in terms of human sanity. I don’t know what was going on with Janet Chiauzzi, her son, and the baseball league in East Meadow. But you can see sports parent nuttiness arrive when a parent feels like the system is out to screw over his or her child — and, as a result, lay to waste all the time and effort and money spent on the child’s sporting endeavors. Parental love certainly factors high in the response, for who else but our own children can make us so irrational? But combine that with all the money parents spend on their child’s sports development at early age — before they or the child have any idea whether the kid will like the sport, thrive at it, or be physically superior enough to his or her peers to advance — and you get Chiauzzi and the tut-tutting over how parents can get so crazy over “just a game.†Cook concluded yesterday's post with a question about youth sports involvement: Does my child actually want to do this — for himself or herself, and not to make me happy? What do you think? Are your kids involved in sports? Is it "just a game"? Do they do it for themselves? What is your level of involvement? Have you experienced "sports parent nuttiness"?

We follow a "Retelling. Watching (preferably a live production followed by a film.) Reading while listening." pattern. Wash. Rinse. Repeat. As they got older, we added reading aloud in parts and reading criticism. This entry better explains what we do, including tips for introducing young students to Shakespeare: "Shakespeare for all ages and stages."