What’s in a Name? January 28, 2008

 

Last year, I sat at a quaint country restaurant with my family in Georgia.  I glanced up from my fried chicken and spotted a handwritten sign next to the register.  Glaring at me in big, bold letters was: “Do not accept checks from HANKSON’s!*”  I turned to my grandma, “Please tell me that sign isn’t referring to our family.”  A blush spread across her gracefully wrinkled face, “Well…”  Her silence was answer enough.

            Psychology Today released an article in December 2007 entitled “Talent Dynasties.”  In it, Carlin Flora introduces families with remarkable legacies in many spectrums of life.  One is a family of literary geniuses, the next are world-renowned artists, another is generations of musical talent with all five kids now studying at Julliard (80-87).  Nature verses nurture theory aside, how did these people win the genetic lottery? 

While I am proud of my family in many respects, our name is somewhat more tarnished.  To be fair to my grandma, she married into a family of lying, stealing, scoundrels, and my immediate family has little to do with those of which the sign was referring.  However, I’ve been handed a less than luminous legacy, merely because I share their last name.  Anywhere in this small town in Georgia, our reputation precedes us.  Some years back, when my mom was buying an antique chandelier in her hometown, she handed the store clerk a check.  One look at her last name and the lady at the counter asked, “Are you cousins with so-and-so Hankson?  Well he owes us $2,000, and I reckon ya’ll have to pay us back for that before I let you buy anything else.”  Appalled that she should be expected to pay for the sins of family she hasn’t spoken to since high school, my mother left.  My mom is a hardworking business woman with the highest credit rating I’ve ever heard.  It’s laughable to think that she shares the same genes with some of the characters in the Hankson family.  Among such characters are the cousins who burned down three houses for the insurance money, while all the family valuables happened to be in a washing machine in the barn, the uncle who is serving life in prison for a foiled kidnapping crime he committed, and the various other members who scheme and cheat whatever money out of people they can.  I know it’s asking a little much to want to be born into the Kennedy’s, but at least their checks would be accepted at a buffet. 

It is said that man fights mortality by creating a legacy.  Humans try to preserve themselves through their lineage, and from that continuous legacy they are immortal.  In the play, A Raisin in the Sun, much of the drama surrounding the family revolves around the legacy that will be passed on to future generations.  Just as Walter’s father worked hard to pass values onto his children, Walter also strives to pass pride onto his son Travis.  Walter wants to provide him with the best possible.  He wants Travis to have any education he chooses, regardless of cost.  Walter most desperately wants his son to be proud of his family.  The greatest achievement in Walter’s mind would be to pass a grand legacy onto Travis (Hansberry 1876-1877). These are universal wishes that all parents aspire to pass on to their children and their bloodline.  

My mom has stood up against the flawed legacy she was handed, a gift to her own future lineage.  Through strength and will, she has worked to change that reputation which haunts the family name.  During high school, she broke the norm set by her misbehaving cousins, and graduated with honors at the top of her class.  My mother went on to graduate from college and later run her own business.  Her actions have set a new precedent within the family to value integrity, diligence, and education beyond the quickest way to make a buck.  She has passed these standards onto my sister and me.  While sometimes it’s difficult to live up to this new legacy with high standards, I’m thankful to have a better reputation to leave for my future children.  Just as I now look to my mom with pride, I hope that someday my kids will do the same to me.  Maybe with the example of this new legacy, my descendents will continue to reach higher and not settle for the negative connotations society may throw at them.  And maybe, just maybe, that little restaurant in Podunk Georgia will accept a check from a Hankson.   

* Name has been changed for protection of the innocent  

Hansberry, Lorraine.  A Raisin in the Sun.  The Bedford Introduction to Literature.  Ed.

            Michael Meyer.  8^th ed.  Boston: Bedford/St. Martin’s, 2008. 1836-1898.

Flora, Carlin. “Talent Dynasties.” Psychology Today Nov.-Dec. 2007: 80-87.

Science is the New Religion January 24, 2008

One thing I have come to despise more than Bible-thumping fanatics is devout believers in science.  While I do believe in both faith and science, neither sect seems to believe in the other.  Of course, I know there are many exceptions, but both religious and scientific communities as a whole tend to regard the other as arch nemesis.  Growing up in the Bible-belt, I’ve always been aware that religion can result in close-minded, adamant believers.  Growing up with a father who wouldn’t believe in air if science didn’t prove its existence, I’ve also become aware that science can result in close-minded, adamant believers.

Many people get offended when science and religion are compared too closely, each side believing its own doctrine superior.  Science says, “Of course I’m right, I can prove it with scientific method, evidence, and reasoning.”  Religion retorts, “Your reasoning can only prove so much.  Because you can’t disprove God, of course He exists.”  Both, at their simplest level, come down to faith.

Science gets very belligerent when the talk turns to faith [Is Science a Religion?].  Faith is the belief in something that defies explanation.  To a certain extent, science is absolutely right.  They do try to provide reasons for the unexplainable, but within the mindset that until something is proved it doesn’t exist.  That means disregarding that which has no viable explanation.  But think about this, when you get down to the lowest of subatomic particles, why do they work?  Science can’t explain life, but it definitely exists.  We can take apart atoms and put them back together and still not create life.  Why?  Science reminds me of a three year old, always wanting to know why, why, why.  And after enough whys, you just can’t explain any further.  You simply must believe that it is what it is.  Right or wrong, religion relies on the same faith.  They may interpret the evidence differently, with all signs pointing to God, but to them, there is proof. 

I guess my biggest qualm is with the people (my father, certain science teachers) who won’t discuss matters that can’t be proved…yet.  If you refuse to look at something because it’s a radical idea, how can you ever be open minded enough to study it without bias?  You say energy exists, but what is energy?  Any scientific definition is merely a cyclical explanation.  But still, that which defies explanation definitely exists.  Yet, if I were to say that energy is God, an indignant smirk would wipe across your face and any shred of discussion would be replaced by condescension.

Now, whether or not I believe in God is irrelevant.  I just think science has a lot more based on faith than it would like to admit.  For now, though, the only thing science and religion will agree on, is that they don’t agree on anything.    

Feral Children January 23, 2008

Volunteering at the local preschool has been an amazing experience for me.  Once a week, I work with the three year olds on everything from colors and numbers to dinosaurs and manners.  Their cognitive skills develop so fast!  One week, a boy won’t know his colors.  When I come back the next week, he tells me that my shoes are brown.  I never thought I’d be so happy to hear what color my shoes are. 
     Tragically, some children are deprived of human contact during these formative years and don’t develop in the same way.  This leads to my thoughts for today…

Feral Children     

     Many theories in psychology regarding human growth revolve around a “critical” or “sensitive” period.  From birth to around 3 years old (sometimes to puberty, depending on the theory) children learn basic physical and mental functions that are the basis for a working society.  Everything from recognizing sounds in language to socializing with others, is developed in this sensitive period.  So what happens when kids miss out on these important experiences?
     After reading the article on Genie, a girl locked away with minimal human contact for 13 years, I was better able to understand the concept of a critical period.  Without the interaction and stimulus of other people, Genie’s brain basically atrophied.  The same was true in a study of poor Romanian orphans adopted into British homes. In the orphanage, they had little adult contact and their brains didn’t grow like that of a normal child.  If they were adopted before 6 months old, they had a greater chance of reaching a normal level of learning.  If they were adopted after two, however, they suffered server learning disabilities and behavioral problems for years.  But while the critical period theory holds true in the sense that Genie was unable to master simple grammar patterns in speech, she was still able to learn to talk!  I guess the brain will always be at a disadvantage if deprived early in life, but I’m not sure how critical the critical period really is.  Adult brains still have some amount of plasticity (changes in organization of the brain), though not near the level of young children.  If adults didn’t have this ability where parts of a brain take over others, many stroke victims wouldn’t be able to recover from brain damage.  
     Regardless, the number of Feral Children is appalling, especially when many people don’t even know they exist.  So think twice before you joke about someone being raised by wolves.