A Matter of Perspective

With everything in the news lately, I feel like my life has become a series of conversations with my kids about topics that are hard for even adults to understand.  We talk about ISIS and the reasons behind their existence.  We talk about terror and fear.  We talk about how propaganda is used to justify behavior and control the masses.  We talk about religion and how it is sometimes used for power instead of peace.  But because my kids are only 13, 11 and 8, it is hard to get them to really understand all of these very complicated topics. They continue to ask, "But why?" I find I want to ask the same question; but instead I find myself repeating the phrase, "it is all a matter of perspective."  And so I use this piece I wrote for fun in my writing class around Halloween for a bit of, well, perspective.

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On the way home from school, the boys and I discuss the weather.  We discuss the potential for rain on Halloween, which dampened their mood. Although my boys say they are too old to trick-or-treat, a little part of them that continues to hold onto the childhood thrill of Halloween.  How can the loosely related ideas of childhood, rain and Halloween dredge up so many memories, I wonder as I drive.  I causally mention we could end up with another Halloween Blizzard.

These words alone begin a cascade of memories of Halloween Blizzard of 1991.  Rain was forecast that year too.  Looking back, I can remember the excitement of October 1991.  It was my senior year of high school.  The Twins won the World Series.  As Halloween approached, the excitement began to tarnish by early sunsets and the fatigue that brings.  A fatigue exasperated by early the morning school start time and late night college entrance essay sessions.  Halloween fell on a Thursday in 1991.  All through this all hallows eve, my throat was scratchy and my head ached.  I pretended I could make it through the evening dance and one more day before the weekend came and allowed rest.  As school let out, more than a fall drizzle greeted us upon our walk home.  My feet soaked quickly as my boyfriend and I trudged through the slushy ground.  I can remember complaining about the inch of snow that was now predicted and feeling more exhausted with each step.  I choose to go to bed early and sleep away my aches instead of attend the Halloween dance, to the great disappointment my boyfriend.  I can remember my surprise when my sister woke me after her tricks-or-treats to show me the winter wonderland our neighborhood had become and the shocking smell of damp snow on a day that should have smelled like leaves and bonfires. 

“Weren’t we all surprised that year?  It could happen again this year boys,” I say.  “You never know.” 

After a brief silence, one asks.  “What flavor was it?” 

Confused, I say, “What flavor was what?” 

“Well, the blizzard Mom?” 

For my boys, there is no memory that is triggered from the combination of childhood, Halloween and rain.  To them, Halloween and blizzard means the Dairy Queen Blizzard flavor of October. 

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Our perspective is based on our experiences.  We cannot expect someone to understand our point of view when they have never walked in our shoes, nor can we understand theirs.  Their life has been a sum of entirely different experiences which lead them to very different conclusions on very different paths.  Our fun Halloween story helped my children realize whether a perspective is right or wrong may not be the right way to understand a situation; because the truth of a perspective depends on the perspective you hold.  And this illustration allowed my children to begin to sort of understand the complicated topic of how a group of people on the other side of the world can be made to behave in a way we have been taught as completely unfathomable.