When my sons first expressed an interest in Boy Scouts, I was concerned. I didn’t want them being taught to hate people. As soon as I met the Scout leader, I knew that despite the homophobic hate that comes from adults in administration, what happens on the troop level is nothing short of wonderful. Every scout is guided toward self confidence as they discover how capable they are. There is no time for politics when everyone is working together to climb a mountain.

Scouts learn courage and strength by doing the things that technology can’t do for them. They crawl in tiny caves, cross fast moving water and use fire as a tool. In the beginning of their scouting career, scouts lean on others. In the blink of an eye, those same scouts become leaders. When your focus is lifting each other up, there is no dragging each other down.

While it is possible that our Boy Scout troop’s attitude of working together to be your best is the exception, I suspect that it is the norm. The other scout families that we have met have been more like us than different from us. We all want to raise confident children who know how to work as a team to be a success. Deep down inside, we know that our children are learning to be better people than their parents AND the scout admins who have time to waste on social issues.

I walked in the Boy Scout merchandise store with one goal in mind, Doug’s gift for Valentine’s Day. As I usually do, I meandered and picked out more than I intended. When I arrived at the register, I plopped my pile of olive colored items on the counter. Unlike most stores that silently ring your purchases, the Boy Scout store employees try to be helpful and make sure that you are getting the right equipment.

“Ohhh honey, these are the knee socks. You want the crew socks instead.”
“No. I came in to buy the knee socks. The other stuff is impulse.”
“You want the knee socks for your husband?”
“I have always told him how much I think that grown men in shorts and knee socks is dorky. I also told him that if he went off the deep end with scouting, he would have to wear the dork socks. Well, he has crossed over to the dark side. He has three different scout meetings this week and camping or activities absolutely every weekend.”
“Oh, he crossed to the dark side and set up camp there. Knee socks it is.”

Aspie Caveman has always had a very close relationship with his grandfather. When Tommy was very young and unable to cope with the sensory assault from his environment, his grandfather acted as some sort of constant to help reduce and recover from the meltdowns. As he matured and developed coping skills, Tommy and his grandfather became the very best of friends. After his grandfather’s CABG surgery, it became glaringly obvious that the child with Aspergers understood his grandfather as well as his grandfather understood him.

I’m not sure how long the transition has been taking place, but Aspie Caveman has now taken on the affect of his grandfather. They have the same mannerisms, expressions and physical movements. They use language the same. I may be able to replicate my father’s penmanship, but Tommy reflects the man who he is named after in every other way. My father would never spend half an hour describing the minutia of a game, but when Tommy does it, I see and hear my father. It always makes me smile.

I know with my head that the mimicry is a coping skill. In my heart, I see it as a gift.

We are children of our era;
our era is political.

All affairs, day and night,
yours, ours, theirs,
are political affairs.

Like it or not,
your genes have a political past,
your skin a political cast,
your eyes a political aspect.

What you say has a resonance;
what you are silent about is telling.
Either way, it’s political.

Even when you head for the hills
you’re taking political steps
on political ground.

Even apolitical poems are political,
and above us shines the moon,
by now no longer lunar.
To be or not to be, that is the question.
Question? What question? Dear, here’s a suggestion:
a political question.

You don’t even have to be a human being
to gain political significance.
Crude oil will do,
or concentrated feed, or any raw material.

Or even a conference table whose shape
was disputed for months:
should we negotiate life and death
at a round table or a square one?

Meanwhile people were dying,
animals perishing,
houses burning,
and fields growing wild,
just as in times most remote
and less political.

While she was home for winter break, someone in New York was shopping with sparkly NY vampire teen’s bank account. I thought she would be worried about how it happened. I expected some drama about the loss of her small savings for living expenses in NY. Instead, she reacted with confusion at the thief’s spending choices. “They bought a bunch of new clothes and then they ate at McDonald’s. Why would they go to McDonald’s when there are so many great places to eat in NY?”

Upon returning to NY last week, sparkly NY vampire teen was horrified to learn that during the break, housekeeping threw away all the food in the college students’ rooms. “All my food is gone! Pop-tarts don’t go bad. Who wastes canned food? I was gonna eat that corn!”

I’m starting to suspect that sparkly NY vampire teen is perpetually hungry.

When an elected TN official states false information about public health, they are a hazard to their constituents. When that same official uses their religious beliefs as a bragging point, it should not have to be said that the teens in that official’s religious sect have made it clear that they consider unprotected sex less of a sin than sex with a condom. Spreading disinformation that implies, no, declares heterosexual sex is not an HIV risk, is dangerous. That kind of disinformation being spread by an elected official who is popular with already poorly informed teens is beyond dangerous. It is life threatening. Destructive.

The guy down the street with disinfowars stickers on everything doesn’t endanger others. His paranoid conspiracy theories only make his life bleak. Celebrities and politicians have fans and followers who make choices based on the words of their heroes. Discouraging immunizations and spreading false information about the spread of HIV hurts other people.