I grew up watching the tv series, The Waltons.
I was addicted, actually, and the addiction lasted into my adult years.
It's funny the different reactions you get when you mention The Waltons. Anything from an instant smile and a dreaminess in the eyes to disgust or even anger.
When the show first aired in 1972 the producers were deluged with thankful mail from thousands of viewers who appreciated the stirring up of memories from their own pasts. People loved the wholesomeness and the hope splattered over each hour-long episode.
But other letters came, too. Ones which condemned the whole project as being pure make-believe and unrealistic. Too sentimental and manipulative of viewers' feelings. Reviewers sat high on their thrones and tried to rip The Waltons apart from its seams. They'd watch an episode or two and then dismiss the whole thing.
You can read more about both sides here.
I guess I get tired of people who, from their own frame of reference, judge what is real and what is not. It bothers me that those who had lousy childhoods now try to convince us that all people have lousy childhoods and that, if you spent time in every home, you'd find some form of dysfunction. And that the Good Old Days are over and children today are automatically doomed because of how this world has evolved.
It's the simplest thing on Earth to be negative, especially as you grow older and see myriad bad things happen. It's easy to rain on people's parades and pop all their balloons and expect the worst.
Any moron can do that.
But it takes a brave and strong person to swim upstream. A courageous person listens to a lot of blathering negative naysayers, then just goes about his life looking on the bright side. You know, being led by the God of all hope.
The world is bigger than each of knows and there are, even today, real families who resemble The Waltons. I knew many while I was a child in the 1960's--you know, those years when, if you believe just what you saw on tv, were full only of violence and free love and hippies and drugs. But no, even then we had Walton-esque families who said grace before meals and who got along and had fun, even though they had very little money.
I know, because I was in one of those (imperfect, ok, but still good) families and lots of my friends were in those kinds of families, also.
And even later after I married and had Naomi, newspapers and books and tv cried loudly that you just couldn't have The Good Old Days in your home because they were long dead.
But Tom, Naomi and I went ahead and had them anyway.
And maybe that's why, yesterday, I ordered the first season set of The Waltons DVD's. Perhaps I ordered them to stir-up the memories I have experienced first-hand for the last 46 years. You know, those types of experiences many movie and tv reviewers say never, ever happened in the first place.
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"But where sin abounded, grace did much more abound..." Romans 5:20
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Gee, I hope nobody thought my last post was really saying vacations are bad. Oh my, no! To further explain what I meant, please check out my paraphrase of Ecclesiastes 3:
1 There is a time for everything,
and a season for every activity under heaven:
2 a time to go on vacation and a time to come home and go back to work,
a time to travel and a time to sit on your own porch swing,
3 a time to swim and a time to pay your bills,
a time to frolic and a time to mend your socks,
4 a time to watch movies and a time to look into your spouse's eyes,
a time to visit a museum and a time to visit the sick,
5 a time to eat in restaurants and a time to weed your garden,
a time to buy cool stuff and a time to give away cool stuff,
6 a time to go sightseeing and a time to see what needs to be done around your house.
Well, you get the idea.
Basically, I was on vacation for 27 days--nearly one whole month.
Somewhere I crossed a border-- a God-designed border--and that always means trouble.
There is God's Way. His way leads to peace.
Then there is Debra's Way. Her way leads to one steep, winding rocky road. Debra's way leads to an annoying, nagging feeling that something just ain't right.
There truly is a time for vacation--hooray!
And there truly is a time to come back home.
And done in their correct time, both are wonderful.
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...is not a good thing.
There is a Berenstain Bear book called, Too Much Vacation, and when Naomi was young, she loved that book. And also when Naomi was young, the three of us would come home from vacation, drop our suitcases, collapse into chairs and collectively moan, "Too much vacation!", each recalling that Berenstein Bear book.
Too much driving/riding/staying up late. Too much living inside a tent, too much swimming and fast food and museums and hiking and getting lost and folding maps.
Basically, too much thinking only of ourselves.
And then yesterday, once again, I had that Too Much Vacation feeling. Oh, I hadn't been in a tent these last 10 days, hadn't traveled or visited any museums and it was much, much, much too cold to go swimming anywhere.
No, but I'd been thinking only of myself. "How little can I get away with doing today? And what else can I do for myself that will make me more comfortable/happy/entertained?"
Then yesterday I got sick of it. Enough is enough and I'd had enough.
Enough vacation.
Enough movies.
Enough recuperating time after my parents' visit.
Enough pampering myself after the teeny little chill I had.
Enough thinking I'd had it rough.
Enough procrastinating of my chores and responsibilities.
Enough treating myself like royalty.
Enough.
Why do we think full-time vacation would be a good thing? We are naive. We haven't learned to love our work, our days, our normal life.
For ten days I think I forgot that I do, indeed, love both my work and my days.
Or perhaps it was more a case of having to be reminded just how good I have it. And sometimes, in order to remember, you have to first forget. You have to sail away into something that looks good, but in reality, would be too sticky-sweet if you had a steady diet of it.
And that's what those ten days were--too darn sticky sweet. I have the extra two pounds to prove it.
And there is something else we forget--real joy is found in giving to you and you and you--not to me, me, me.
Yum, today! My Normal Today tastes better, more glorious, than a million vacation days. There's a lot to be said for a wholesome, balanced diet. There's a lot to be said for giving of oneself rather than to oneself.
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