Land of milk and honey
America has long been known as the land of milk and honey—a place of plenty, of freedom from fear of starvation. Before the advent of modern agriculture and technology, securing adequate food was strenuous and sporadic, and preparing it was labor-intensive. The modern world is brimming with high-calorie beverages. Do you like Piña Coladas? I did, until I found out I could have a turkey sandwich and a piece of coconut cream pie for the same calories. Those Starbuck’s drinks have as many calories as the yummy confections in the case. As far as the kids are concerned, it gets even worse. A single can of soda has ten teaspoons of sugar; ice cream concoctions have many more.
Between 1979 and 1996, the consumption of soft drinks among children escalated by more than 300 percent. In an attempt to come up with a healthy alternative, many parents switched to fruit drinks or juice. In the absence of a vitamin deficiency, there is no need for children to drink these high-calorie drinks. We wouldn’t insist that they eat six oranges with breakfast, but that is exactly what we are doing when we urge them to finish that glass of orange juice because it’s “good for them.” Actually, it isn’t. Bottom line: ban the beverages, and teach kids to drink water.
Live off the fat of the land.
Have you ever thought, “If I had a million dollars, I would ...” Most of us have indulged in that fantasy at one time or another. Even though a million dollars doesn’t go as far as it used to, the implication is still clear. If we had a great deal of money, we could live the good life—a life of no labor and lots of leisure. We may not realize it, but for many of us that wish has come true. We don’t have to carry around heavy stuff all the time except for the spare tire we have developed around our middles. Nowadays, not only is physical labor a rarity, we don’t even break a sweat unless we exercise. This is true for children as well as adults. Children don’t run around, ride bicycles, or just plain play the way they used to. There is a consequence to their inaction; they don’t engage in enough activity to meet their health needs.
Christmas Every Day
In 1892, William Dean Howells published a short story entitled “Christmas Every Day” in which a little girl wishes for an endless string of Christmases. She gets her wish, but things don’t turn out quite the way she expected. Before too long the burden of constant celebration sours any of the joy of the now, “not-so-special” occasion. Aren’t we currently living under similar circumstances? We have at our immediate disposal hundreds—no, thousands—of delectable treats; we are lavishly entertained with television and movies; we ride everywhere in the modern-day golden chariot. How can this instant gratification and endless variety not deaden our senses? And it is all so very passive. Music is one of life’s great pleasures, but it was such a short time ago that we had to produce our own music with our friends and family. People played instruments; we stood around the piano and sang. Now even the most inexpensive iPod MP3 Player holds 1,000 songs.
You can’t put the genie back in the bottle.
We are truly pigs in paradise, except we don’t seem to be happy about it. We can’t go back in time, nor do we want to. Though, it’s true that technology won’t go in reverse and tasks won’t get harder to perform, we can learn to value something that seems to have disappeared—time. There are still 24 hours in every day, and we can all try to appreciate the special moments that will never come again. If we look for meaning in our interactions with others, we can recapture that sense of uniqueness and celebration. If we wish for every day to become special, that wish can still come true.
