Today, I read the online version of the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette©, my hometown newspaper. I read the stories of not one, not two, but three young men arrested for the murder of another young man. The stories were accompanied by photos of young, fresh-faced young men. I found myself thinking as I read the stories and looking at the pictures that this was somebody's "baby," someone's "grandbaby," someone's baby nephew. I found myself wondering, once again, "what is going on with this younger generation?" Some will, and have, argued that these things have always gone on, that we just hear more about them now because of the prevalence of the media in our lives, both through the Internet and through 24-hour new channels. But, I beg to differ with those who espouse such a sentiment.
I believe that my generation has largely failed our children. Each generation has an innate desire to give their children more than they had. Children of my generation shared bedrooms and often beds. The homes had one television and often only one phone on each floor. We ate dinner together as a family. We went to church AND Sunday School and often Vacation Bible School during the summer. Many of us had school clothes, play clothes and church clothes. Tennis shoes were for gym class. You had dress shoes for church and regular, leather-soled shoes for everything else but gym. At most, most kids had three, maybe four pairs of shoes. When you came home from school, you took off your school clothes and put on your play clothes. Some children wore the same outfit two days in a row and no one teased them about it because they did the same thing. Sure, there were the exceptions. I knew a few girls who had "stretch pants" in every color of the rainbow, but for the most part, we were all pretty much the same. Adults were to be respected, whether it was Mrs. Gaines next door, a teacher, Mrs. DeLuca at Pompa's Grocery store or Sister Staunton at church. In my family, we even had to call adult cousins by a title, such as Cousin Susie or Cousin Bobby. The line between adults and children was clear – and enforced.
In my home, we were not even permitted to raise our voices to our parents. I remember clearly my father saying, "who're you basing at?" Suck your teeth? We never dreamed of doing such a thing. Roll your eyes? Sure, if you wanted to get slapped. Children had chores around the house which were required to be done before we could go play. The girls in my family had kitchen duty. My mother cooked all the meals and we did the cleanup afterward. My two brothers took care of the bathrooms and the garbage. I clearly remember being so anxious to go outside and play that we rushed through our chores so we could get outside. At most, we spent an hour or two a week watching television. Jacks, hopscotch, kickball, jump rope and just about anything outdoors occupied our time. We were sent to school to LEARN, not to be involved in any foolishness. A note sent home from the teacher resulted in a whupping and/or a loss of privileges.
As my generation matriculated into adulthood, we went off to college or got jobs. I can't think of a single childhood friend who chose to just laze around in their parent's home after high school.
Despite all this, somehow, our generation dropped the ball when it came to our children. We've somehow managed to raise children who expect, not appreciate. We gave them their own bedrooms. We first gave them a phone extension in their bedroom and later cellphones. We gave them a television and a stereo for their room. We began buying them video game systems and the games they required. When a later model came out, we often stood in line to be sure they had the latest model. We gave into the pressure to buy them brand-name clothes and tennis shoes. We allowed them to decide IF they wanted to go to church. We stopped giving them regular chores. We allowed them to spend hours in front of the television or talking on the phone. We allowed them to erase the line between adult and child. Worst of all, we listened to popular thought and decided we wanted to become THEIR FRIEND. We began to believe their side of the story when they got into trouble at school. We challenged the teacher's version.
Then our children matriculated into young adulthood. Who do you think many of them became? They became a generation of adults who wanted, expected and having lived a childhood where what they want was given to them and not having learned the lesson that there is consequence for every action, didn't want to work, be educated or trained for a job that would provide the means to get the things they wanted. They just wanted. I have a relative who, after dropping out of high school and finally obtaining a G.E.D. told me "I'm not about to work for no minimum wage." Having such attitudes, the allure of selling drugs was powerful – and addictive. Why flip burgers at McDonald's™ for minimum wage when you could earn thousands a week selling drugs. And so it began.
Along with the selling drugs, of course, came the violence. I listen to and read story after story of young people being killed by another young person. The underlying cause is usually D.R. – that's Drug-Related – for the un-initiated. A drug transaction gone bad. Someone selling drugs in another's territory. Someone attempting to rob a drug dealer. Someone selling fake drugs.
Then we have the gangs. Children and young adults who don't even own a piece of real estate who claim certain neighborhoods as their own. People who DEMAND respect that they've not earned. Wear the wrong color in a certain neighborhood? Be shot or killed. I know of neighborhoods where senior citizens who've lived in their home for decades are afraid to venture out their front door after dusk. Where are the parents and grandparents of these young criminals? With what values were they raised? Where was God, Allah or Buddha in their lives when they were raised?
I am by no means demonizing every parent of my generation or their children, but the numbers continue to alarm and frighten me. It seems we've a whole generation of young adults currently in prison, recently released from prison or headed that way. These young people are Somebody's Baby. I can't stand the thought of some hysterical mother on television, bemoaning the loss of "her baby." It breaks my heart. It should break all of our hearts.
Blessings,
T
When our race is seen as a weapon
3 years ago
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