Sixteen years ago. And while I don't imagine many readers would rattle their papers and say, "Heyyyy, I read this already, in 2007!" I do have my pride. I'm glad I wrote it down then, because memory is fallible. Remembering it now, it was the boy, not myself, who found the chemical house selling the acid. Anyway, best let that column tell the story.
This was when the column filled a page, and I've left in the original subheadings, and the lame joke at the end. I hardly need to point out that the opening argument is now sadly untrue, as portions of the country have decided that failing to teach children our nation's tragic racial history will somehow make them feel better, when all it does is guarantee that their children will be as ignorant as themselves, a safe bet already, no action necessary.
OPENING SHOT . . .
You want to feel good about this country? Talk about slavery.
How, you may ask, can this shameful peak of human cruelty, whose lingering bad effects are felt to this day, be a source of pride to the nation that tolerated its existence for nearly a century?
Because at least we recognize it. We are aware of it; we teach about slavery in schools. We can talk about it. And if we don't face facts as much as we should, then at least debating them isn't against the law.
Compare that to Turkey. A nation of 72 million people, Turkey is the most westernized Muslim state in the world. And yet, a Turkish writer would commit a crime and risk prison just by writing this sentence: "in 1915, Turks oversaw the murder of 1.5 million Armenians, the largest European genocide before World War II."
To Turkey, this is slander. So now, our alliance is endangered -- Turkey has recalled its ambassador, and is threatening to stop helping us wage our losing war in Iraq -- just because a House subcommittee voted to label the 1915 deaths a "genocide.''
Why do they act this way? National pride, and inability to process difficult truths. A too common problem in this world. The United States might have its moments of shame, like any other land. But at least we can talk about them. We should be proud of that.
Footnote:
I do think about this stuff, you know. I don't just toss some Boggle cubes and transcribe the result. When I wrote above that this nation tolerated slavery "for nearly a century," that is because the United States came into existence in 1776 and the Emancipation Proclamation was issued in 1863. Before 1776, we were English colonies, and slavery was legal in England until 1807.
Some try to stretch it to centuries, beginning with the moment that Columbus set a toe in America in 1492 up until yesterday. That seems disingenuous to me. The truth is bad enough; no need to stretch it.
1 DOWN, 127 TO GO . . ."
There's that moment when a dad hears a phrase from his kid for the very first time and thinks: "Oh boy. I wonder how many more times I'm going to hear that?"
A bit of background. A while back, when Son No. 1 started growing his hair long, I made a conscious decision not to make him cut it.
"I'm not fighting about hair," I kept telling my wife, thinking back to all the pointless, get-a-haircut-hippie arguments that have been tearing up families for the past 40 years. I'm not going there. This isn't timidity -- not entirely -- I want him to listen to me because when I put my foot down about something, it's important. No, you can't drive the car. No, you can't play with hydrochloric acid unsupervised.
How long a boy's hair is isn't important.
Friday morning, he's hustling out the door to school. I say goodbye and try to plant a kiss on top of his head -- tougher to do lately, but sometimes I pull it off.
"Don't touch my hair!" he says, twisting away.
"He's got it just the way he likes it," my wife explains helpfully.
"OK, then," I say, watching him as he hurries out the door.
THE CHEMICAL PARENT
That line about hydrochloric acid, by the way, isn't some bit of comic fancy I pulled out of the air, but a real issue from daily life that actually occurred and merits mention.
Normally I like to present a united front with the wife when it comes to child rearing. Even when I might have decided differently about a situation, I tend to back her up once she has laid down the law.
Otherwise, the boys play us off each other and things get nuts. Yet somehow, in this particular situation, inspiration struck me, and I felt compelled to break ranks.
My wife was busily seeing how many ways she could say "No" when I butted in.
"Sure, we can get some hydrochloric acid for you to experiment with," I told my 11-year-old son, who must have read about it in Stephen King. "I'll go online right now and find a place that'll sell it."
His face lit up. "Really?" he said. My wife shot me a look that itself was rather acidic -- say a pH1 -- as I retired to the office to scout cyberspace.
To be honest it took some doing -- most chemical shops want only to send acids to schools, but I finally located an industrial chemical outlet that asks only for assurances its products will be used for an educational purpose -- which is the plan.
Four ounces of acid, by the time we paid for special delivery and hazardous materials handling, would cost about $50.
"That's a lot of money," I said to him. "So if I'm going to shell that out, I want to make sure you know what you're doing."
I handed him a sheet of guidelines for the handling of chemicals printed off the Ohio State University Chemistry Department website.
"Familiarize yourself with these," I said. "And study this." I set down a piece of paper explaining acid, base and pH. "Then I want you to write out what acid is and exactly what experiments you intend to do with your acid. And as soon as you've done that, I'll place the order."
Needless to say, he never mentioned hydrochloric acid again, to my mingled relief and disappointment. And I felt I had made a strategic parenting breakthrough. So if next time he comes and says, "Dad, can we get a grizzly bear?" instead of arguing about it, I'll say, "Sure, but a bear like that will need a big pen: you'd better start building. But first, research the law regarding keeping wild animals in suburban yards . . ."
TODAY'S CHUCKLE. . .
A joke from Robert Hawkins in honor of the Army hitting its recruiting goals by lowering its standards:
I joined the Army because I was 18 and bored with the 10th grade.
OPENING SHOT . . .
You want to feel good about this country? Talk about slavery.
How, you may ask, can this shameful peak of human cruelty, whose lingering bad effects are felt to this day, be a source of pride to the nation that tolerated its existence for nearly a century?
Because at least we recognize it. We are aware of it; we teach about slavery in schools. We can talk about it. And if we don't face facts as much as we should, then at least debating them isn't against the law.
Compare that to Turkey. A nation of 72 million people, Turkey is the most westernized Muslim state in the world. And yet, a Turkish writer would commit a crime and risk prison just by writing this sentence: "in 1915, Turks oversaw the murder of 1.5 million Armenians, the largest European genocide before World War II."
To Turkey, this is slander. So now, our alliance is endangered -- Turkey has recalled its ambassador, and is threatening to stop helping us wage our losing war in Iraq -- just because a House subcommittee voted to label the 1915 deaths a "genocide.''
Why do they act this way? National pride, and inability to process difficult truths. A too common problem in this world. The United States might have its moments of shame, like any other land. But at least we can talk about them. We should be proud of that.
Footnote:
I do think about this stuff, you know. I don't just toss some Boggle cubes and transcribe the result. When I wrote above that this nation tolerated slavery "for nearly a century," that is because the United States came into existence in 1776 and the Emancipation Proclamation was issued in 1863. Before 1776, we were English colonies, and slavery was legal in England until 1807.
Some try to stretch it to centuries, beginning with the moment that Columbus set a toe in America in 1492 up until yesterday. That seems disingenuous to me. The truth is bad enough; no need to stretch it.
1 DOWN, 127 TO GO . . ."
There's that moment when a dad hears a phrase from his kid for the very first time and thinks: "Oh boy. I wonder how many more times I'm going to hear that?"
A bit of background. A while back, when Son No. 1 started growing his hair long, I made a conscious decision not to make him cut it.
"I'm not fighting about hair," I kept telling my wife, thinking back to all the pointless, get-a-haircut-hippie arguments that have been tearing up families for the past 40 years. I'm not going there. This isn't timidity -- not entirely -- I want him to listen to me because when I put my foot down about something, it's important. No, you can't drive the car. No, you can't play with hydrochloric acid unsupervised.
How long a boy's hair is isn't important.
Friday morning, he's hustling out the door to school. I say goodbye and try to plant a kiss on top of his head -- tougher to do lately, but sometimes I pull it off.
"Don't touch my hair!" he says, twisting away.
"He's got it just the way he likes it," my wife explains helpfully.
"OK, then," I say, watching him as he hurries out the door.
THE CHEMICAL PARENT
That line about hydrochloric acid, by the way, isn't some bit of comic fancy I pulled out of the air, but a real issue from daily life that actually occurred and merits mention.
Normally I like to present a united front with the wife when it comes to child rearing. Even when I might have decided differently about a situation, I tend to back her up once she has laid down the law.
Otherwise, the boys play us off each other and things get nuts. Yet somehow, in this particular situation, inspiration struck me, and I felt compelled to break ranks.
My wife was busily seeing how many ways she could say "No" when I butted in.
"Sure, we can get some hydrochloric acid for you to experiment with," I told my 11-year-old son, who must have read about it in Stephen King. "I'll go online right now and find a place that'll sell it."
His face lit up. "Really?" he said. My wife shot me a look that itself was rather acidic -- say a pH1 -- as I retired to the office to scout cyberspace.
To be honest it took some doing -- most chemical shops want only to send acids to schools, but I finally located an industrial chemical outlet that asks only for assurances its products will be used for an educational purpose -- which is the plan.
Four ounces of acid, by the time we paid for special delivery and hazardous materials handling, would cost about $50.
"That's a lot of money," I said to him. "So if I'm going to shell that out, I want to make sure you know what you're doing."
I handed him a sheet of guidelines for the handling of chemicals printed off the Ohio State University Chemistry Department website.
"Familiarize yourself with these," I said. "And study this." I set down a piece of paper explaining acid, base and pH. "Then I want you to write out what acid is and exactly what experiments you intend to do with your acid. And as soon as you've done that, I'll place the order."
Needless to say, he never mentioned hydrochloric acid again, to my mingled relief and disappointment. And I felt I had made a strategic parenting breakthrough. So if next time he comes and says, "Dad, can we get a grizzly bear?" instead of arguing about it, I'll say, "Sure, but a bear like that will need a big pen: you'd better start building. But first, research the law regarding keeping wild animals in suburban yards . . ."
TODAY'S CHUCKLE. . .
A joke from Robert Hawkins in honor of the Army hitting its recruiting goals by lowering its standards:
I joined the Army because I was 18 and bored with the 10th grade.
— Originally published in the Sun-Times, Oct. 14, 2007
Shit, you had me going there...
ReplyDeleteI thought you were gonna write about that time you and son dropped acid and saw the Dead!
It says: "I told a story about my older son and acid." Not "me and my older son and acid." I was waiting to hear about what Mr. S. did when Son No 1 came home tripping after a concert. What my own daddy did, when I got drunk and arrested at 14, is another story for another time.
DeleteOf course now there is a movement to cloud our country's "moments of shame".
ReplyDeleteReally, they are more like eras of shame but in addition to slavery and the treatment of them after they were "freed", there are others. The way we treated and continue to treat indigenous peoples, the way we treated the Chinese, the Japanese, and a host of other ethnic groups must never be forgotten.
judging by the number of people attending the Taylor swift concerts this weekend many things have been forgotten .
Deletegun violence awareness day for instance. which was yesterday .
God, you're a drag Franco. One of those people who confuse talking about a problem with fixing it. The gun problem will still be there when Taylor Swift leaves town. Are you always such a killjoy, or do you reserve that part of your personality for us?
Deletehey , im not the one posting about slavery and " genocide". I was pointing out it was gun violence awareness day and nobody cares. and yes im a drag in general got tossed out of my monthly poker game last night. we've been playing for 25 years. asked the host if he stopped dyeing his hair?
DeleteAnd who runs "Gun Violence Awareness Day"? I never heard of it outside of your remark. I want you to reflect on that — you're taking some BS faux holiday stuck on the schedule and forgotten and chiding people — who, believe it not, actually DO care about these things — for something completely out of their control. I don't mind critics, Franco. I just want them to criticize on metrics that aren't entirely horsehit. Do better.
DeleteCities and states all over America have issued proclamations declaring June 2nd as gun violence awareness day and ask people to wear orange . its been a thing for awhile.
Deleteartists often do series of paintings on a subject. haystacks come to mind. I for one wouldn't have minded a second piece on your son and acid. from a perspective looking back. but thats just me. .
I read that ms swift used her platform to address the LBGTQIA+ issue. maybe she could have asked her fans to wear orange. I know thats a drag but its a festive color and an important issue
obviously its not exactly a holiday. the bill recognizing the day was passed 3-10-2022. so its new. spread the word
DeleteLove the sparkling, hilarious vignettes featuring the Steinberg family. I can tell you from personal experience that hydrochloric acid is very corrosive. At one point in my Naval career, I was called on to move some 12 volt batteries from one location to another nearby. Although there was no visible leaking, my dungarees were in shreds afterwards. I was probably about 18 at the time and a little stupid mechanically speaking, but not quite stupid enough to go into the Army.
ReplyDeleteJohn
there are lots of things we "don't talk about" with respect to our nation's past. How we took over Hawaii. How the German Doctors and PH'Ds who helped us with our rocket and space programs were card carrying nazis. I'm sure there are more.
ReplyDeleteI thought that the point that you made in the opener of the 2007 column was very poignant and thoughtful, but why do you say that it’s untrue today? Are there any Americans of school-going age up who are unaware of the country’s history with slavery? There aren’t any schools that aren’t teaching it, that I know of. It may be argued that it isn’t taught as thoroughly as it should be, or that it’s taught in a way that sugarcoats perhaps, but as you said, debating these matters is not against the law.
ReplyDeleteI was referring to the anti-"critical race theory" efforts all across Red America. They might not ban learning about slavery, but their entire point is to tamp down teaching about systemic racism, civil rights, etc. Mouthing a few dry facts and learning about the scope and depth of a nightmare are two very different matters.
Deletegood one on how you handled the acid bit
ReplyDelete