The Laura McEntire S

The Laura McEntire Syndrome

Every group, professional or amateur, religious or pagan, develops a lexicon to describe its unique qualities and confuse outsiders. Educators rank right up there with the military in coining phrases and concocting acronyms.  The latest expression circulating among educators is “helicopter parents”—those who take their job a little too seriously and hover a little too closely.
Helicopter parents simply can’t let go of their offspring. They have this unnerving habit of lurking behind lockers, stalking the lunchroom, volunteering for every imaginable job that will give them access to the school, and then call principals, superintendents, and board members when things don’t go their way. I shudder to think!
Helicopter parents don’t leave their annoying habits at the school house door. They attack coaches at ball games, complete badge requirements for scouts, work endlessly on science projects, and make sure their children have the right friends. They bring their middle schoolers lunch from local fast food chains.
My brother had his own personal version of a helicopter parent at a time when such foolishness was not in vogue. He had Laura McEntire, a spinster who lived with us. Most families took in other family members, but ours didn’t discriminate. We took in the neighbor who helped raise my mother.
Laura loved all of us, but Ted was the apple of her eye. You didn’t even consider that last Coca-Cola chilling in the refrigerator. It was saved for Ted. She would make his bed and hope that Mother didn’t notice. Because if she did, she immediately stripped the bed down to the mattress and poor Ted would have to start from scratch. Laura would smolder almost as much as her cigarette.
Every afternoon Laura helped Ted roll the newspapers for his route until her bony fingers were ink-black. Ted said the other day that he would have put her in the basket on the front of his bicycle and let her throw the papers if he had had room for her. Believe me; she would have willingly climbed aboard.
Laura never married nor had children. Back in her day the two went together. She focused all her maternal instincts first on Mother and then on Ted—neither suffered from the smothering. When Rachel was born, Mother insisted that she name her. After all, Tim and I named the boys and it was her turn. Rachel Laura was born on Good Friday and is the namesake of the spry spinster who spent much of her life loving someone else’s children. Not a bad life.
I suppose every child needs a Laura McEntire. Someone who thinks they are the most wonderful thing since sliced bread. The trick is to fine the delicate balance between hovering a little too closely and showing up at just the right moment.
I have two little boys who have captured my heart.  My grandson is still a cuddly, sweet baby and the other tears through the house trying to examine everything at one time. I daydream about all the wonderful things we will do together and about the kind of young men they will become. I plan to keep my rotors whirring at a safe enough distance that they know how much I love them but not so close that I create a dust storm.  
I learned a lot from Laura McEntire. Now it is my turn to pass it on. I look forward to the ride.

The Meaning of Life

The Meaning of Life

I took a philosophy course in college and was surprised to learn that many people spend an exorbitant amount of time pondering the meaning of life. I must confess that, until then, I had not given the Great Question much thought. I will also confess that during the years since that eye-opening experience, I haven’t spent more than a fleeting minute or two concerned with “Why am I here?” I have been having life rather than contemplating its significance, however, all of that is about to change.

Recently, the Atlanta Journal Constitution featured an article on life lists. Not to be confused with New Year’s resolutions, life lists are goals to be achieved before one dies. Most New Year’s resolutions are history by January 3rd. The article referenced Uma Thurman’s life list which concluded with “kill Bill.” I didn’t see the movie, so I don’t know if all her wishes came true, but the idea of making a life list intrigued me.

Unfortunately, I can’t think of anything to put on it. For someone who never spent much time setting goals or creating a master plan for achievement and success, I am at a loss here. Until I retired, I mostly stumbled onto things and was easily amused. There was never a carefully considered strategy. Hell, most of the lesson plans for my classes came from the ether. My dear principal, Jim Caneer, struggled to find the appropriate way to notate this on my last evaluation.

I have decided to ask my friends and family about their life lists, presuming of course that they are more evolved than I and have something to write down. These people are a colorful bunch, witty and smart, naughty and nice, independent thinkers who don’t hesitate to offer opinions about anything and everything. A sneak peak at what they believe to be important should prove interesting and insightful.

Should you decide to participate, please respond in the comments section. If you have my email address, you may also send your comments there. I promise to protect your privacy. I don’t want to be responsible if the police show up at your home or place of employment.

In the meantime, I will listen intently for inspiration from the ether.

Ohm!