Our Puritan Ideals

Dear all, 

When England threw out their religious zealots, these people set off with nothing but scratchy clothes on their backs, sensible shoes on their feet and lots of crazy assed ideas in their heads (dancing = bad, setting fire to people we don’t understand = good).  They headed towards a new land full of hope and promise, but, instead, landed in Plymouth, Mass.

A quick aside: did I ever tell you about the time we, along with my high school friend, Colleen, took the kids to the Living Pilgrim Museum in Plymouth?  It was the most hot and humid day in the history of mankind.  The museum has volunteers who dress up in woolen clothes like Pilgrims and bale hay and tend fires like Pilgrims did.  You must address these volunteers as Pilgrims NOT as tour guides.  For example, you can’t ask the guy baling hay why the Pilgrims baled hay.  You must ask, “Excuse me Farmer John, I noticed that you are baling hay with your ‘fiancé’ who happens to be about 40 years younger than you, you perv, and I was wondering…” Only then will they answer you. 

The museum also had a volunteer who was an honest to God Wampanoag (or something like that) Indian who was dressed, in all his chiseled glory, in nothing but a loin cloth, walking around, bending over.  He told sad stories of how much it sucked to be persecuted by the pilgrims to a small gathering of children around his feet, all the while his leg was resting on a log about two feet off the ground. 

For some reason, mostly because we were already giddy from asking lots of Pilgrims questions, this struck Colleen and me as very funny.  Not the stories, of course, but whole scene in general. We started with stifled laughter and a bit of poking, but it wasn’t long before we needed to excuse ourselves altogether.  As we pushed each other to get away, to rid our minds of this searing image, I took one last look back and the Indian turned to me. I could see his face…a close up…and one single tear running down his cheek. Or maybe I am confusing my Native American memories.. 

Anyway, what was my point?

So these pilgrims brought their ideas to a new land and with time and starvation, they evolved into a harsher people: the Puritans, which in Latin means:  if it feels good, you’re going to Hell.   Sometimes we forget that our great country is based on many Puritan, ideals such as:  controlling urges: good, clean houses: good, idle hands: bad, too many vacation days: VERY bad. 

England, on the other hand, is not based on these ideals.  They threw out the religious lunatics, but kept the fun people like Shakespeare, Benny Hill and the members of the Rolling Stones.  Their country is based on the time-honored ideals of sex and alcohol (but usually not in that order).

We moved to England and didn’t think this shift in values would affect us, but the longer we are here, the more adjusting we have to do.   Our parenting has to incorporate the norms of the British culture but still must fit in with our Midwestern values.  It hasn’t been easy. 

Everyone knows raising teenagers is difficult. Maybe you’ve raised teenagers or maybe you simply recall those complicated teenage years; years spent trying to ‘find’ yourself (you were probably towards the back of a dimly lit Denny’s parking lot) and longing for ‘truth’ (‘truth’ being so elusive at that age because your every move required an intricate web of lies so your parents didn’t know you were spending hours at a time towards the back of a dimly lit Denny’s parking lot).  

The legal age for drinking in the UK is 18 (about the time you get a drivers license) and alcohol is served to kids much younger than that in homes and in restaurants if the parents are present.  It isn’t irresponsible, it’s just is the way it is.  European.  And further to that, sex just isn’t the taboo it is in the US. 

For example, when M and S were 13, they were invited to a party of a girl who was still 12.  The parents were serving alcohol and the kids were invited to spend the night for a co-ed sleep over (a completely benign weekend activity here for every teenager…except ours). When I called the mother who was by all accounts lucid, (and bright, they just sent their oldest daughter off to Oxford), she was completely confused as to my concern.  Her response?  ‘Would you prefer if we serve LIGHT beer and wine, only?’ 

So when M and S were preparing to visit a friend in France for the week, I realized we had to have another serious dialog regarding alcohol and sex.  Additionally, I pulled M aside for a REAL heart to heart.  It went like this:

Me:  M, I don’t want you to have sex with Shawn while you’re in France.

M:  JEEZ, Mom, why do you think I’d do that?

Me:  Because she is a prettier version of Kirsten Dunst only with bigger boobs.  You’re 15.  Things happen.

M:  (Big grin comes over his face) Oh.  Yeah.

Me:  I mean it M.  I worry.

M:  God, Mom, will you PLEASE stop talking? 

And with that request, we let M and S travel to France completely on their own.   They had a wonderful time and there were no instances of any improprieties. 

At least that is what they are telling us.  We may find differently in a few years. 

With love from England, 

T-Ann