Fire

I believe two "A" math tests in a row is what earned my 7-year old the right to become a pet owner. Upon her victory on the second "A", Madda's Daddy took her to Wal-Mart to pick out what would become the very first pet of the DeWitt house. No, they do not sell puppies and kitties at our Wal-Mart. But they do sell Betta fish, and we became the owner of one red fish. "Fire", as this fish has been dubbed, has turned out to be the most boring fish on the face of the planet. It literally does NOTHING. Regardless, we have ascribed a personality to Fire, imagining that he is very disgruntled and generally dissatisfied with his surroundings. We assume that this fish is in its tiny tank, day dreaming of a life better than the one provided by The DeWitt Five.

Madeline probably took care of this fish for approximately two days before I was left in charge of the angry little thing. Therefore since October, when the fish became a member of the family, I have been feeding it and changing its water. Our children care so little about this fish that I once suggested that we might get a more interesting pet like a dog or a cat, and Madeline was on board with flushing it down the toilet....while still alive. Since I'm fairly certain that flushing a live fish down the toilet does not send the right message to my kids, we (I) continue to maintain this silly fish.

This past Saturday, Fire was again in need of a change of water and its true owner (Madeline) volunteered to help with the task. Therefore, I grabbed the net and the fresh water and enlisted the help of my daughter in taking care of her fish. I assisted Madda in holding the net as I poured the contents of Fire's little tank through the green grid of fabric inside. As she held the net over the sink, I quickly washed and refilled Fire's castle with fresh, clean water. I instructed Madeline to let me assist her in placing Fire back into his tank, as the opening for the fish bowl is comparable to the opening in the net, making for a precarious situation when trying to dump the damn fish back into its home. Unfortunately, as we stood over the sink, she shook the net one way and I shook it another. Fire's flopping body lunged from the net and landed squarely in the middle of the drain. Yes, the one which houses the garbage disposal below. I immediately starting screaming, "It's in the drain, it's in the drain!" Jason looks up from his task of nailing a picture hanger into the back of the picture, not far from where we stood and rushes to our rescue. He is exclaiming, "Grab a glove! Grab a flashlight!" All the while, Madeline is screaming and crying and carrying on. Although I was not surprised by her reaction, I guess I might have expected less in the way of hysterics from someone who was willing to euthanize her fish just weeks before.

As the hysterics continue, Jason heads to the sink with a flashlight in one of his gloved hands and digs through the soggy bread, apple cores, and leftover bits of cereal to retrieve the fish who nobody cares about. In the midst of this madness, I encourage the kids to come with me to check the mail...and they do, proving that they care more about what bills and credit card applications have been delivered than the life of their family pet. After I distract the kids for several minutes, we head back in the front door. When he hears the door open, Jason calls out that he has saved Fire and that he is back in his tank, safe and sound. Sighs of relief are breathed, cheers ring out. I breathed a sigh of relief mostly because I didn't wan to have to deal with the aftermath of the death of our fish and its impact on our children. Additionally, I didn't want to deal with turning on the disposal in a post-Fire world. I just know that I would have imagined his red body being mangled along with the remains of cut-up strawberries and orange peels. I'm a very visual person.

After the ordeal was settled, Madeline wondered aloud if Fire would now be happy, having narrowly escaped death. I commented that often when people cheat death, that they will find a new lease on life. Madeline then said that it was possible that Fire might be even more angry after his brush with the afterlife. I let her know that some people do indeed become even more self-destructive after a traumatic event.

This is all interesting to me because we have so personified this fish. Because Fire is truly the most boring pet in the world, our family seeks to create human-like emotions and personality to make up for it. In all likelihood, Fire will remain exactly as he was before his near-tragic accident. I'm sure however, that because we want to continue the story of our fish, that we will surely see a change in Fire. I'll let you know how it all turns out.

A Higher Calling?

I have revealed that I am not a religious person. This is not a secret, by any means. I was raised by a non-practicing Methodist mother and a father who was a Zen Buddhist. (Of course, he is now a Non-Dual Vedanta-ist, but that is for another time.) I have never been involved in any kind of organized religious practice, and I don't think that such practices are in the cards for me. Ever. Additionally, I do not fall under the category of people who find themselves "spiritual" rather than "religious." Perhaps I should have lived in The Netherlands where the churches are empty and the parks are full. That is much more my style.

However, this post is not about my religious views. I am not here to debate the various aspects of religion. To me, it is simply not part of my life and we can still be friends (good friends, even) if it is part of yours. My post today is to talk about a strange and repeated occurrence that may or may not be some kind of divine intervention. And, it has to do with Journey. Yes the 80's band, not the spiritual walk. For the past several years, I have been unable to escape the song "Don't Stop Believin." It haunts me. It plays each and every time I use the shuffle feature on my Ipod and I hear it in the car constantly. I hear it blaring from other cars. I once saw a bumper sticker with that phrase on the car in front of me- while listening to the song in my car (on the radio, not the cd). Last weekend, I heard it at a wedding and someone recently mentioned it in their FB post. It is truly bizarre. Today, when I took two of my children to a library we never go to, there was a teenager with a "Don't Stop Believin" t-shirt in the juvenile fiction area. Is this divine intervention? And, why is Journey involved? Is Steve Perry in on this? Or is that Asian guy who replaced Steve Perry with his silky voice to blame? Is this just a function of living in Indiana? Am I being punk'd? Honestly, one can only ignore the coincidences in one's life so long. Any possible explanations for this dilemma are welcomed.

On Marriage

I have had the pleasure of attending several weddings in the past 7 or so months. The fact is, I was not invited to any of them. I was in attendance as a photographer's assistant. Therefore I was able to sit in back (because I'm the assistant and the real photographer goes in front) and listen objectively. I did not know any of the brides or grooms, and therefore I was as objective as I have ever been at a wedding.

Of course, I am female (and there to take pics) and therefore, I am unable to attend a wedding without paying some attention to the aesthetic details of the whole business. The weddings have all been quite lovely; each dress more beautiful than the next, each bride flawless and glowing, each groom a true gentleman. I have yet to meet a "bridezilla" or a groom that creeped me out. However, as a non-religious (agnostic) person, the interesting thing to me about all of these weddings has been the ceremony. I am somewhat removed from the wedding scene. At 25 or so, you tend to be a guest at ceremony after ceremony. They all sort of gel together into a nameless, faceless ceremony followed by a party with a bunch of old college friends. As a 36-year old, I pay attention to the words of the officiant (minister, preacher, pastor, celebrant, whatever) and I am somewhat fascinated by the words and traditions. I too was married by a man of God. I'm fairly certain we just went with society's traditions on that one. Not to mention I was too busy vomiting to even care one way or the other about the details of my wedding.

But, back to the point. All of the ceremonies very traditionally spelled out the guidelines for man and wife. All of these ceremonies have been Christian. All of them have very similar tenets, ie.."Do you promise to honor, obey, be faithful, etc." As I sit in the back of the church, I find myself wondering if the happy couple standing before me have any idea what they are getting themselves into. I wonder if, through their counseling with their "officiant" they have reviewed the expectations of a "wife" or a "husband" and if they took any of the discussions to heart. Or are they like me? Did they just want to marry their significant other because they were overwhelmed with feeling and love and passion and excitement (and pregnancy)? Do they really feel like their marriage is between themselves and God and the whole church community? Or are they just excited to spend their lives with that one special person? Or are they just getting married because it is the next logical step in a long-term monogamous relationship?

After all this wondering, it comes down to the following questions. Was I at all prepared for marriage? Was I unprepared for marriage because of the lack of religious affiliation throughout my life? Was I unprepared because my parents were divorced and I lacked having that relationship modeled for me? Was I unprepared because I was 51 weeks into a relationship with my would-be husband and 16 weeks pregnant? Was I unprepared because our lives were unstable and marked by the unknown in every way?

Or are we all unprepared for this thing called marriage? Do any of us really know what we are getting into? Are we all just wearing rose-colored glasses and hoping for the best? Do we think it will be easy....or get easier? Did anyone mention to you that marriage is much, much more complicated than it looks and that the dress, ring and reception mean absolutely nothing when you get down to it?

Now, before you start thinking that I am writing this because I am on the verge of divorce, let me correct you. I am very happily married. I really did marry the right person. I did it with zero counseling from a religious figure, and I did it quickly because I was knocked up. We had a shotgun wedding with 12 people at the ceremony and 50 at the reception. By no means was it the wedding of a little girl's dreams. Regardless, it served it's purpose and is completely legal and binding. We have had to make up our own rules as we progress together.

I am writing this because marriage is a fascinating relationship and because I am going to be a real guest at 2 weddings in the month of June. As I sit in my seat (or pew) I will again wonder about my ability to make marriage work and what ingredients are necessary. Or which ingredients should be left out entirely. This is not to say that I couldn't benefit from some good old fashioned heathen reading on the subject...that is if any of you know of such a text.