#302

As I watch M 'n' m get closer to 'full-grown' (I realize they aren't puppies), an impossible question keeps nagging, or the desire for a certain formula, although I know one doesn't exist; God herself would say it's too complex for a precise, simple rendering, a nice pie chart, for example. I don't think God uses PowerPoint. The question: Is nature or nurture a more powerful forming force in our children? Heredity is a factor, and sometimes massively so, but isn't environment the bigger hand, the hand that moves us versus the one we're dealt in genes? As parents, we're huge contributors to both, obviously. It seems our biology and brain chemistry are less congealed than we thought in previous centuries; we have modern fitness and diet trends, and cosmetic medicine. I had braces, as in orthodontia; that's not cosmetic 'surgery,' but it's cosmetic something. It's prevalent and useful. And now we're told our brains are neuroplastic. You gotta love science; it's so sure of itself until it's not. Don't get me wrong; science gives us incredible progress, understanding, technology, but the 'accuracy' and authority of claims that are later controverted (e.g. 'all dietary fat is bad') can be frustrating. And yet, despite new trends and breakthroughs (like gene therapy), there is a stubborn fixedness to the composition and habits of our minds and bodies, our heredity. And, clouding things further, it seems that human sensitivity to environment varies; some people appear impervious to things others are oversensitive to. Some people walk to the beat of their own drum. I envy them. I am naturally more at the people-pleasing, socially-anxious end of the spectrum, versus the side that's achored by folks who feel zero self-consciousness and are oblivious to social cues. Of course, these conditions have neurobiological determinants, and I don't mean to speak of them flippantly. Are we back, full circle, to the rigidity of biology and brain chemistry? See, it's very confusing. Who knows, maybe astrology and fate determine everything! I'm simply curious where M 'n' m fall on this scale I've poorly described. And will they move one way or the other, become more of this or less of that. I attempt to move and improve. It's often arduous and disheartening, frankly. We are who we are. But we can 'move,' too.

M 'n' m are finally home from their many travels this summer. They were on the road – not exactly like Kerouac, but that's a cool reference – for about five weeks. I missed Megan maybe like those 33 miners in Chile.... When my Grandpa Byard was in the Korean War, he kept a diary and filled much of it with expressions of how badly he missed "Marilyn and Mike." Grandma Marilyn was his beautiful bride, and Papa Mike his newborn son. As the story goes, Marilyn showed their baby a single black-and-white photo of his father everyday until the months passed and they were reunited. It won't be intuitive for M 'n' m to understand this; in those days it was truly a gulf, a distance, an isolation from your most precious people, without video calls, email, cell phones, bundles of digital photos and videos as reminders of closeness.

I've been mouse hunting lately, or trapping, in my shed and woodpile. It's not as fun as fishing – and I see why mice give even elephants the willies – but there are similarities. Bait, gear, and location can be micro-analyzed, as can the hooks/traps left bare and empty. Little bastards. And so I strategize, and what's more fun than that?

There's something satisfying about sharpening my mower blade. Building walls for Michael's bedroom is satisfying also, but not like honing the edge of a fine blade. A 'fine blade?' Yes, I've over-glorified my mower, but the smithing and sharpening of steel is an exquisite metaphor for life! If that sounds cheesy, I give you this: Ever tried slicing a tomato with a dull knife? Indeed, you can only smash them, like poor Lennie lovingly crushes everything he touches in Of Mice and Men, which Jeanette got for Michael from the library, and Chris Farley spoofed hilariously on SNL. Remember him? Tommy Boy? We grow tomatoes in containers; I'm happy to demonstrate to M 'n' m that food isn't 'manna from heaven,' or Jewel; it requires seeds and growth. And cubing tomatos, mincing onions, chopping cilantro, and slicing limes – we love Jeanette's pico de gallo! – is impossible with a dull knife!