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veronica_richAllison spotted the bench and moved at it, feeling every bit of her nine years as she took up residence on one end of it. "My feet are tired, Grandma," she told the group of middle-aged women. "Can I just sit out here while you go in?" She wasn't that wild about Penney's anyway; there was never anything good in the toys, that she could afford with what little allowance money she had.
Grandma eyed her momentarily. "We're in the city; I don't think it's a good idea for you to sit out here alone." Allison felt a sigh escaping, ready to protest, when Letha took up the other side of the long bench and parked her massive tote bag between them. "Oh, go on, Beth. I'll sit here with the kid; hell, my feet hurt too."
"You don't want to go into Penney's?" asked Velma. "Has some good sales."
"I've seen good sales today already," Letha rebutted. "It's Penney's. I can do without another pair of twelve-dollar pants that don't have any elastic in them and itch."
"Suit yourself," Grandma shrugged. To Allison, she pointed briefly. "You know to behave. I don't have to worry about that." It was never a command or a question, just a statement of fact - Allison would no more risk her favorite grandparent's wrath and time at her house than she would cut off her pinky finger.
Allison swung her short legs off the bench, watching the shadows they created in the mid-afternoon sun. Normally when stuck with one of her adults' adults, she was answering questions about how school was, how her dog was, how her mom was. Nobody just sat and said nothing to her - well, nobody but Letha. This friend of Grandma's had never been especially warm toward her, putting up with her at best and just not addressing her, at worst. Screwing up her resolve, Allison asked the question she'd been wondering since she was four years old: "Why don't you like me, Letha?" All of Grandma's friends told her to call them by their first names (a practice which annoyed Allison's mother and delighted the girl, as she was pretty certain Grandma had made Mom call them all "Mrs. So-and-So" while growing up).
"What's that?" Out of the corner of her eye Allison saw the somewhat heavy woman shift slightly to look at her, and regretted her burst of courage. "What'd you say?"
"I ... asked you, why you don't seem to like me ...?" she trailed off.
"When did I ever say I don't like you?"
Now Allison felt intimidated into agreement. "I ... don't know? I mean, you didn't." She worked her hands, gesturing, trying to get the attention off her words even as she made up more. Stupid mouth. "It- It just seems like you don't like me very much." There. Said.
The older woman sighed and Allison braced herself for a lecture. When Letha did deign to talk to her, it was usually in the form of "something unpleasant, blah blah" in response to something she'd rattled off. Last time it had been about those "grandstanding fools" at school who talked about how much money their dads made, when Allison had breathlessly repeated the gossip to Grandma's circle of friends, to feel part of the adult group; another memorable reprimand had nearly made Allison cry, as Letha had snapped at her for talking about Allison's opinion of what made a bad driver ("And what would a seven-year-old know about how to drive?" she'd asked, looking directly into Allison's eyes, before telling her exactly what was incorrect about said opinion).
"I don't dislike you, girl." It wasn't said with condescension, so Allison didn't flinch. "I don't know where you got that idea, unless it's just from the fact I don't fuss over you like Velma and Jean and your grandpa, and those others. I like you just fine. Now, I am not fond of very many children overall, so you're doing all right."
"So it's because I'm a kid?"
Letha laughed. "You'll make a good lawyer. Didn't you hear me? Look." She shifted to face Allison better. "Kids are brought up a lot of the time thinking they've got to put on for any adults who are around - it starts with their mom and dad, and then their grandparents. If they're good, if they can talk about the correct stuff from school, if they can be quiet when they're supposed to, they're taught adults will fuss over them. I'm not a fusser; I never have been. Probably why I'm not married, either." The way she said it made Allison chortle - she was familiar with Grandma's and Mom's occasional bemoanings comparing husbands with children in their need for reassurance.
"Because I don't fuss over you like they do, and because I tend to talk to you like you're not deficient, and that you can think about and understand what I'm trying to tell you, now you've got the idea I don't like you. If I didn't like you, I could spend time with your grandma when you're not around. You're not my first choice of conversational partner, but you've got some sense." Allison watched her raise an eyebrow and try not to smile.
"But why do you talk to me like that? You always sound annoyed when you're telling me something."
"You mean I don't say things slowly and spell it all out for you in a nice voice?" Allison didn't know whether to nod or shake her head - the former felt disloyal somehow, to the other adults she dealt with. "I don't know; maybe I could sound nicer. But the things I'm telling you, they're not things you're hearing from a lot of other adults, are they?" Allison thought, and tentatively shook her head. "I've never told you to keep quiet, have I? I've never told you you wouldn't understand if I tried to explain something, have I?"
"No?"
"You're a lot like your grandma, or at least I think you might be when you grow up. She's got a good head and she doesn't lie to me. When I hear you saying something I don't think is truthful or informed very well, if I say something about it, I want to be sure I tell you why it's not all right so you'll know for the next time you might think to say it again."
Allison nodded, not quite understanding all of it, but encouraged Letha didn't seem upset. She watched as the woman dug into her bag and came up with a change purse, extracting a few quarters from it. "Why don't you go get me a Diet Coke and you something at that machine? It's hot here, and God knows Velma can shop for slacks all afternoon."
"Okay!" Money for soda was a treat. She ran her errand, hurried back and gave Letha some dimes and her can, then scooted back on the bench, working at the pull-tab of her Dr. Pepper. They each took a few sips. Letha sighed.
"I'm going to tell you something I think, so you'll maybe learn to tell the difference between someone not liking you, and someone trying to help you out. Comes in handy once in a while. You're a child, and you're going to be for several more years yet. What are you, eight?" Allison shook her head and held up a thumb, gesturing. "Nine? Okay, you've got that many more years before you're an adult. And you're a girl, so it's going to be rougher.
"Lots of people aren't going to tell you things, even things you need to know, not even when you're an adult. Especially not before that. They call it 'protecting the children,' or trying to make the world an easier place for you." Letha paused to make air quotes. "Most of them mean well, and a lot of them don't even sit and think why they won't explain something to you - they just don't because nobody ever did for them, most likely, and they think it's okay to do that to another child.
"But here's exactly why they won't-" She gestured between herself and Allison. "They don't want to be unpopular, or risk being seen as mean or uncool, or whatever the word is these days. They don't want the unpleasantness of having to explain to someone who doesn't know something, why that something is. Like these fools who picket at school boards about getting sex education out of schools. They're not trying to protect any children - they're trying to make life easier on themselves, by making it something they can say isn't up for public discussion, so they don't have to talk about it there, or at home, or anywhere."
"Sex education?" It was a phrase Allison knew, but not the context.
"That's one I'm not even getting into," Letha admitted. "I'm not the one with all the medical smarts to tell you what you need to know. They'll tell you that in a couple years in school. I hope they still can," she added, frowning briefly. "Well, what's something else? Money. Adults don't like to talk about money to kids, especially about not having any."
"Mom doesn't have a problem telling me I can't have any," Allison muttered into her soda can.
Letha laughed, sharp and sudden. "That's not bad for you. You can't have everything you want all the time." She chuckled again. "I'm talking about not teaching kids how to save or spend money. A lot of parents won't talk about what they make or spend - like it's meant to be their big secret - and then they act surprised and scold when a kid grows up and gets into financial trouble at the first chance. Instead of sitting a 13-year-old down and telling them 'this is what I earn, this is how I have to spend it, and this is what you cost me' when a kid asks for more money, I've seen parents act like they're being audited by IRS strangers and having to cover up a Swedish bank account.
"There are just a lot of adults who treat bringing up kids to adulthood like a disinformation campaign on the level of ... of the Greeks at Troy. You read about the Trojan horse yet?" Allison nodded. "I'll just leave you with that. You can think on that over the next few years and see if you can figure out what I mean, and if I'm wrong or not. Point is, that's not my personality. I talk to you plain, and sometimes that must sound like dislike or disapproval. Fact is - I'm meaning to help."
(So as not to mislead you, this is my submission for Week 18 of LJ Idol's topic of Disinformation.)
Grandma eyed her momentarily. "We're in the city; I don't think it's a good idea for you to sit out here alone." Allison felt a sigh escaping, ready to protest, when Letha took up the other side of the long bench and parked her massive tote bag between them. "Oh, go on, Beth. I'll sit here with the kid; hell, my feet hurt too."
"You don't want to go into Penney's?" asked Velma. "Has some good sales."
"I've seen good sales today already," Letha rebutted. "It's Penney's. I can do without another pair of twelve-dollar pants that don't have any elastic in them and itch."
"Suit yourself," Grandma shrugged. To Allison, she pointed briefly. "You know to behave. I don't have to worry about that." It was never a command or a question, just a statement of fact - Allison would no more risk her favorite grandparent's wrath and time at her house than she would cut off her pinky finger.
Allison swung her short legs off the bench, watching the shadows they created in the mid-afternoon sun. Normally when stuck with one of her adults' adults, she was answering questions about how school was, how her dog was, how her mom was. Nobody just sat and said nothing to her - well, nobody but Letha. This friend of Grandma's had never been especially warm toward her, putting up with her at best and just not addressing her, at worst. Screwing up her resolve, Allison asked the question she'd been wondering since she was four years old: "Why don't you like me, Letha?" All of Grandma's friends told her to call them by their first names (a practice which annoyed Allison's mother and delighted the girl, as she was pretty certain Grandma had made Mom call them all "Mrs. So-and-So" while growing up).
"What's that?" Out of the corner of her eye Allison saw the somewhat heavy woman shift slightly to look at her, and regretted her burst of courage. "What'd you say?"
"I ... asked you, why you don't seem to like me ...?" she trailed off.
"When did I ever say I don't like you?"
Now Allison felt intimidated into agreement. "I ... don't know? I mean, you didn't." She worked her hands, gesturing, trying to get the attention off her words even as she made up more. Stupid mouth. "It- It just seems like you don't like me very much." There. Said.
The older woman sighed and Allison braced herself for a lecture. When Letha did deign to talk to her, it was usually in the form of "something unpleasant, blah blah" in response to something she'd rattled off. Last time it had been about those "grandstanding fools" at school who talked about how much money their dads made, when Allison had breathlessly repeated the gossip to Grandma's circle of friends, to feel part of the adult group; another memorable reprimand had nearly made Allison cry, as Letha had snapped at her for talking about Allison's opinion of what made a bad driver ("And what would a seven-year-old know about how to drive?" she'd asked, looking directly into Allison's eyes, before telling her exactly what was incorrect about said opinion).
"I don't dislike you, girl." It wasn't said with condescension, so Allison didn't flinch. "I don't know where you got that idea, unless it's just from the fact I don't fuss over you like Velma and Jean and your grandpa, and those others. I like you just fine. Now, I am not fond of very many children overall, so you're doing all right."
"So it's because I'm a kid?"
Letha laughed. "You'll make a good lawyer. Didn't you hear me? Look." She shifted to face Allison better. "Kids are brought up a lot of the time thinking they've got to put on for any adults who are around - it starts with their mom and dad, and then their grandparents. If they're good, if they can talk about the correct stuff from school, if they can be quiet when they're supposed to, they're taught adults will fuss over them. I'm not a fusser; I never have been. Probably why I'm not married, either." The way she said it made Allison chortle - she was familiar with Grandma's and Mom's occasional bemoanings comparing husbands with children in their need for reassurance.
"Because I don't fuss over you like they do, and because I tend to talk to you like you're not deficient, and that you can think about and understand what I'm trying to tell you, now you've got the idea I don't like you. If I didn't like you, I could spend time with your grandma when you're not around. You're not my first choice of conversational partner, but you've got some sense." Allison watched her raise an eyebrow and try not to smile.
"But why do you talk to me like that? You always sound annoyed when you're telling me something."
"You mean I don't say things slowly and spell it all out for you in a nice voice?" Allison didn't know whether to nod or shake her head - the former felt disloyal somehow, to the other adults she dealt with. "I don't know; maybe I could sound nicer. But the things I'm telling you, they're not things you're hearing from a lot of other adults, are they?" Allison thought, and tentatively shook her head. "I've never told you to keep quiet, have I? I've never told you you wouldn't understand if I tried to explain something, have I?"
"No?"
"You're a lot like your grandma, or at least I think you might be when you grow up. She's got a good head and she doesn't lie to me. When I hear you saying something I don't think is truthful or informed very well, if I say something about it, I want to be sure I tell you why it's not all right so you'll know for the next time you might think to say it again."
Allison nodded, not quite understanding all of it, but encouraged Letha didn't seem upset. She watched as the woman dug into her bag and came up with a change purse, extracting a few quarters from it. "Why don't you go get me a Diet Coke and you something at that machine? It's hot here, and God knows Velma can shop for slacks all afternoon."
"Okay!" Money for soda was a treat. She ran her errand, hurried back and gave Letha some dimes and her can, then scooted back on the bench, working at the pull-tab of her Dr. Pepper. They each took a few sips. Letha sighed.
"I'm going to tell you something I think, so you'll maybe learn to tell the difference between someone not liking you, and someone trying to help you out. Comes in handy once in a while. You're a child, and you're going to be for several more years yet. What are you, eight?" Allison shook her head and held up a thumb, gesturing. "Nine? Okay, you've got that many more years before you're an adult. And you're a girl, so it's going to be rougher.
"Lots of people aren't going to tell you things, even things you need to know, not even when you're an adult. Especially not before that. They call it 'protecting the children,' or trying to make the world an easier place for you." Letha paused to make air quotes. "Most of them mean well, and a lot of them don't even sit and think why they won't explain something to you - they just don't because nobody ever did for them, most likely, and they think it's okay to do that to another child.
"But here's exactly why they won't-" She gestured between herself and Allison. "They don't want to be unpopular, or risk being seen as mean or uncool, or whatever the word is these days. They don't want the unpleasantness of having to explain to someone who doesn't know something, why that something is. Like these fools who picket at school boards about getting sex education out of schools. They're not trying to protect any children - they're trying to make life easier on themselves, by making it something they can say isn't up for public discussion, so they don't have to talk about it there, or at home, or anywhere."
"Sex education?" It was a phrase Allison knew, but not the context.
"That's one I'm not even getting into," Letha admitted. "I'm not the one with all the medical smarts to tell you what you need to know. They'll tell you that in a couple years in school. I hope they still can," she added, frowning briefly. "Well, what's something else? Money. Adults don't like to talk about money to kids, especially about not having any."
"Mom doesn't have a problem telling me I can't have any," Allison muttered into her soda can.
Letha laughed, sharp and sudden. "That's not bad for you. You can't have everything you want all the time." She chuckled again. "I'm talking about not teaching kids how to save or spend money. A lot of parents won't talk about what they make or spend - like it's meant to be their big secret - and then they act surprised and scold when a kid grows up and gets into financial trouble at the first chance. Instead of sitting a 13-year-old down and telling them 'this is what I earn, this is how I have to spend it, and this is what you cost me' when a kid asks for more money, I've seen parents act like they're being audited by IRS strangers and having to cover up a Swedish bank account.
"There are just a lot of adults who treat bringing up kids to adulthood like a disinformation campaign on the level of ... of the Greeks at Troy. You read about the Trojan horse yet?" Allison nodded. "I'll just leave you with that. You can think on that over the next few years and see if you can figure out what I mean, and if I'm wrong or not. Point is, that's not my personality. I talk to you plain, and sometimes that must sound like dislike or disapproval. Fact is - I'm meaning to help."
(So as not to mislead you, this is my submission for Week 18 of LJ Idol's topic of Disinformation.)
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Date: 2014-08-21 09:41 pm (UTC)You know, I've even discussed opening a private SCHOOL that will teach kids all the important stuff that our education system completely FAILS to. If my next decade goes how I want it to, that's how I plan to spend my retirement. I am Letha!
(Also, the comment about why she didn't need any more $12 Penney's slacks totally made me smile!)