Even mediocre family activities can become great memories

Last night I took my wife and kids to this second-rate Halloween maze. I will keep it’s name a secret so as not to harm its business in an already dismal economy. The maze already trampled down and no longer resembled a maze really. It was more of a grid because of all the places where people had cut their own paths through the corn. The so-called scary rides featured dummies with weather-beaten latex masks and Styrofoam spiders. Their 3-D haunted house was actually a black tent with spooky shapes spray painted on its walls- the 3-D glasses were supposed to make them seem spooky. A host of other things made the outing one long exercise in mediocrity.

 
But halfway through what I thought was a waste of money, I noticed something peculiar. For all the crappy displays of Halloween spookiness, my kids were beaming, smiles stretched from ear to ear. I realized that this visit to a mediocre corn maze was probably going to secure a place in their memory as a pretty fun time with their family. 
 
So I sat back and just let the good times roll. Our mission in going there was to do something fun, and our kids were having a good time. Mission accomplished. So I ran and jumped with them. I screamed in mock horror at the Styrofoam spiders. By the end, I ended up having a pretty fun time, I must admit.


The Joy of Home Movies

8mm was our family’s medium of choice when I was a kid, low-quality, jerky, soundless images that moved a little too fast, making everything seem like slapstick. We used to roll on the floor with laughter watching our older siblings in 70s-era clothes, aunts and uncles in black-rimmed glasses, and grandparents that still had their hair color. Then we upgraded to camcorders and suddenly, we could hear what everyone was saying. Somehow these were less funny and more embarrassing because now they were about us and the camera captured the things we hoped other people didn’t see. Or maybe we were just growing up and getting more self-conscious in the process.

Well, the video camera persists today on phones and digital cameras. I still hate seeing myself on video, but I have found a subject I never tire of: my kids. I will film them for great lengths of time just playing, wrestling, dancing, or otherwise making merry. We can watch those images again and again and find pleasure in them. I think I understand now why my parents made so many recordings of us. The video is a moment in time captured forever as they grow up and their young-child innocence is covered up by the veil of adulthood, a way to preserve those little kids we gave so much for.

So keep the cameras rolling, everyone. There is joy to be found in home movies.



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What about when family history threatens offspring?

A recent story on MSNBC told of Patrick Tracey, whose family has a history of acute schizophrenia. The disease ultimately took his older sisters, his mother, and his grandmother. Unwilling to risk passing the disease onto his offspring, Tracey has decided not to have children of his own. This story raises an important question: in the face of irrefutable evidence that your family carries a deadly or harmful disease from one generation to another, would you forego passing on your genes?

Personally, I see my children as central to my life. It would be hard to imagine life and fulfillment without them. But, loving my children like I do, I don’t know if I would want them to suffer if I could help it.

What would you do? Would you go ahead and have children, hoping that either the ovarian lottery would pass them by or that your family would somehow cope with their disorder? Or would you decide the risk was too great?