I've been reading "The Spirit Catches You and You Fall Down" by Anne Fadiman for my book club and I'm so depressed. I reached a point today where I just couldn't read any more. I hate it when authors of fiction or non fiction put horrific things in their book just to get a reaction. This book has some prime examples of gratuitous heart string pulling. The book is about a Hmong (small ethnic group that lived in Laos) refugee family in California that have an epileptic daughter and the gap in the culture between the family and the doctors. The author alternates between the medical story of the child and the larger backdrop of the conflict in Laos/Vietnam that ultimately led to the family claiming asylum in the US.
War is horrible. I understand that. I also understand that people do horrible things to each other during wars. And yes, personal accounts always make things more real, so I understand that a few stories are necessary. So I was fine during accounts of kids getting sick and not having medicine. Of having to leave sick and elderly parents along the road while you try to flee, or eating clothes when there is no other food. I was even ok with the story of the mom whose child starved to death in her arms because she didn't have any milk for him. But she went one further, and I'm not even going to type it because then I'd just be putting that horrible image in other people's minds, if you want to know what it was read the book.
Anyway, the whole chapter just reminded me what I sometimes forget every now and then. Kids don't really need all the extra crap that we get for them. Really they just need 1. food 2. shelter (and clothing) 3. love. All the rest is just bonus. I generally try to be reasonable, and I'm not trying to make Babes' childhood the best ever, I just want her to be well loved, healthy and reasonably stimulated. When she gets older I want her to be able to provide for herself, be well loved, and enjoy what she does. But I occasionally do freak out that she is eating from cups that have some random possibly bad for you ingredient in the plastic, or ponder for hours whether or not she should start drinking cows milk because of the hormones.... And then I read something that really makes me thankful that I even have these choices. I am so thankful that I have always been able to give Babes enough milk or food or whatever, and that I have not had to make a choice between her or me. I do not have to try to hide her, or worry about bad people finding her. I can spend all of my energy just giving her love. How wonderful is that?
