The other day I was at an airport security line as I was on yet another interview mission for residency. A young girl, not more than four years old, holds out her hands for her mother. The mom takes a small zip-lock bag out of her purse, pulls out a “less than three ounce” lotion and squirts some on the little girl’s hands. She rubs her hands together vigorously and looks up, “Why do we have to keep the lotion in a plastic bag?”
Mom looks down and matter-of-factly says, “That’s because we don’t want terrorists to take a bomb on the plane.” The girl doesn’t give it a second thought; she goes about her way. The times have sure changed even in my short life. I have seen too many instances of little kids throwing away juice, yogurt, snacks, all in the name of “security.” Perhaps our fear needs a reality check. By instilling this type of fear in our kids, what kind of people will they grow up to be?
The next day I am sitting with my sister for breakfast at this small pastry shop in New York City. The night before we were laughing about our childhood. I showed her the new Spice Girls video that had come out. Back when we were little she was obsessed with the Spice Girls. I had listened to countless hours of their music. I knew all the words, the beat, the nicknames, the gossip. In her young adolescence she was adamant about “girl power” even going so far as to create a group with her little friends where they would each take on the roll of a Spice Girl. They wore color changing emotion rings with flowers on them and would constantly strike a pose and yell, “Girl power!” I know I was frightened by this not by any danger it would cause to my sister but by me somehow getting in the path of her Spice Girl crew. I did not want to get on their bad side so I sat quietly. My over protective father was not amused by all this and thought my sister was forming a gang. Yes, a gang composed of a group of middle-school girls in Middleton Idaho. My dad’s was quite adamant about his claim which everyone else took as being the most harmless group ever created on the face of the earth. But hey I was still scared.
We laughed that night thinking of how ridiculous our father’s claim was. We knew it was ridiculous at the time and was even more ridiculous now. But ultimately he was a father. He had heard about gangs on the news and even though we were in Idaho he felt the need to protect his kids from what he thought was a danger. I wondered if that mom felt a legitimate danger from terrorists taking over the plane with their bottles of liquids/gels. I wondered if she felt solace in the fact that they would have a tough time getting more than 3 ounces on the plane. I wondered if years from now that little girl that went about her way would look back on her mom’s words and laugh at how ridiculous it was.
The difference of course was that the girl at the airport was barely older than a toddler and unable to really think and process much on her own. My sister in her logic of organizing the Spice Girl clan of Middleton, Idaho could at least think for herself. It was a silly idea but it was hers. She was going through a rebellion phase, this little girl was a sponge, one that was absorbing an awful lot of fear. Why do we insist on obsessing about an abnormally high level of fear when we are born to take pleasure in the simplest of things and generally enjoy, not fear day to day life?
As our breakfast comes to us, two little toddlers a girl and a boy try to enter the building breaking free of their parent’s hands. The boy nearly runs into the door trying to open it. His eyes are like huge marbles as if hypnotized, he wobbles struggling to stay afoot as he runs towards his target. His head smacks against the glass that is housing the countless illuminated pastries. “Wooooow!”
He coughs on the glass as he oogles at the countless options before him. His companion wobbles in and bangs her head on the chair as she tries to sit in it. My sister and I start talking trying not to laugh. I’m still in a daze at how glorious the city is. We are a long way from Idaho and the birthplace of the Middleton Spice Girls.
I look back at the little girl, a chocolate croissant in hand. She has more chocolate on her face than her mouth as she tries to eat the pastry that is nearly the size of her head. The boy, equally a mess, reaches for another pastry. They are all chocolaty smiles. Happiness in youth is so easy. Maybe if we learned to fear less and enjoy more we wouldn’t be a society that has to pull lotion out of a zip lock bag to moisturize our four-year-old’s hands. Maybe we would be able to sit with family and enjoy more pastries. Then again, we’d probably just obsess with the fear of getting fat.
Tell us what you want Arzhang. What you really really want.