Morality, Religion & Philosophy: August 2006 Archives
I don't have any kids, but I suspect that when I do I'll keep a close eye on them. I don't know if I'll go so far as to use parental surveillance devices, but I'll do whatever is necessary to make sure my kids walk the straight and narrow.
Some years ago my older daughter, then a senior in college, listened to me fret about rumors of drinking at the parties her ninth-grade sister was begging to go to. "They're so young to deal with this sort of thing," I worried. "Mom," she began in a knowing tone, "What do you think was going on when I went to parties in the ninth grade?"I lingered for a moment over the disconnect between this young woman standing before me, a premed student, an Organization Kid who would sooner live on bread and water than turn in a late paper, and the image of her 14-year-old self chugging a Budweiser. Then, I struggled with two contradictory responses. First, discomfiture; I had been naïve, a mental status that we been-there-done-that boomer parents find pretty embarrassing. How could I have been so out of it? And second: relief. Thank God I didn't know. If I had, I would have had to transform my parenting approach from trust-but-verify (check-in phone calls to friends' parents, "so how did the movie end again?" sort of questions, etc.) to all-out war.
Kay S. Hymowitz obviously was naive, didn't know her daughters' friends, and wasn't particularly involved in their lives. She also didn't beat them enough, apparently. It's great that her elder daughter turned out ok, but I know first-hand that many of the kids at those parties grew into alcoholics and drug addicts. Shutting one's eyes and hoping everything turns out ok doesn't seem like an ideal parenting strategy. What's more, I completely disagree with the implications behind the author's rhetorical arguments:
The more subtle, but equally important, objection to spyware is that it isn't good for parents either. By making snooping relatively impersonal, these technologies prompt mothers and fathers to bypass important moral questions about their relationship with their children. If it's all right to scrutinize your daughter's text messages, then it should be OK to read her diary. If it's all right to electronically monitor her driving, then it should be equally kosher to get in to your own car and follow her. Yet there are good reasons most sane adults would balk at these low-tech invasions of their children's privacy.
I wouldn't hesitate to read my daughter's diary or follow her in my car if I had reason to believe she was in danger or acting foolishly. Am I wrong? It would depend on the age and maturity level of the kid, I suppose. Privacy is great, and as kids get older they should certainly have more autonomy, but children shouldn't be treated like adults until they take adulthood upon themselves, with all the responsibilities thereof.
This story about Jack Nicholson demolishing Marlon Brando's house is a good reminder that worldly success doesn't count for much.
IT WAS dark, cramped and run-down, but for nearly half a century it was Marlon Brando’s home. Now his neighbour Jack Nicholson, who paid £3.4m for the house after Brando died two years ago, is planning to demolish it and plant frangipani flowers over the plot. ...The 69-year-old actor has been advised that it would be too expensive to restore the “derelict” house which has been beset by mould. Getting the mould out would be difficult. “It’s more likely that we will take the house down,” said Nicholson last week. ...
Nearly everything owned by Brando has been destroyed or sold. Yet there is one fragment of the legacy still unaccounted for: the Oscar he received for On the Waterfront (1954).
Relatives believe he either lost it, gave it to a friend or, in a darker mood, hid the 13in statue from debt collectors. The gold-plated knight may yet emerge from Frangipani’s dust during the demolition.
Sounds like the end of another famous man whose kingdom was quickly brought to ruin.
Ecclesiastes 2:1-11I thought in my heart, "Come now, I will test you with pleasure to find out what is good." But that also proved to be meaningless. "Laughter," I said, "is foolish. And what does pleasure accomplish?" I tried cheering myself with wine, and embracing folly—my mind still guiding me with wisdom. I wanted to see what was worthwhile for men to do under heaven during the few days of their lives.
I undertook great projects: I built houses for myself and planted vineyards. I made gardens and parks and planted all kinds of fruit trees in them. I made reservoirs to water groves of flourishing trees. I bought male and female slaves and had other slaves who were born in my house. I also owned more herds and flocks than anyone in Jerusalem before me. I amassed silver and gold for myself, and the treasure of kings and provinces. I acquired men and women singers, and a harem as well—the delights of the heart of man. I became greater by far than anyone in Jerusalem before me. In all this my wisdom stayed with me.
I denied myself nothing my eyes desired; I refused my heart no pleasure. My heart took delight in all my work, and this was the reward for all my labor.
Yet when I surveyed all that my hands had done and what I had toiled to achieve, everything was meaningless, a chasing after the wind; nothing was gained under the sun.
