Hubris and Humiliation

I am not sure if it is a universal rite of passage, but it seems fairly consistent among my friends that as our parents age, they purge. I would say purging, in and of itself, is a good thing. “You can’t take it with you,” as my mom likes to say. The phenomenon, however, is that as they purge, they decide that we (their children) need these things.

In particular, these parents seem to believe we need ALL “our” stuff (that they kept) back, for nostalgia’s sake of course. Now I don’t know about you, but I could probably live the rest of my days (and I’m absolutely confident my own children will survive) without that Plaster-of-Paris imprint of my hand from pre-school… but “awwwww.” #Memories

Then, there are the things that aren’t solely ours, per se, but are familial or from a collective childhood. How the parent decides who gets what, I’ve not quite figured out. Regardless, these are things they no longer want but feel 100% confident we do (or should).

At present, I am squarely situated in the “sandwich generation.” My parents are in their 70s. My children are in their tweens and teens. Some days, this stage of life (using the sandwich metaphor) is as beautiful as a perfectly golden brown and melty grilled cheese. Other days, it’s like trying to eat chili between toast. It’s compelling to watch your children gain independence and autonomy. It can be staggering to discover your parents are fallible or enervated.

When I relocated five years ago into my “forever home” (or, at minimum, the “until the kids are out of school” house), I suddenly had a larger-than-I’d-ever-need section of unfinished basement for storage. The problem with closets, basements, and storage? You tend to fill it. Like clockwork, things that had been out-of-sight and out-of-mind for decades started to appear.

“Look what I found…”

“Do you remember this…”

“You have to show it to your girls…”

“I didn’t know if you’d want this…”

Generally speaking, I operate off the “if I haven’t needed or used it” in, say, the last few years—I’m good!

Nope. Not how this process works.

So after five years in this house, in a somewhat futile attempt to lessen the accumulated clutter, I decided (for posterity) to convert some old VHS tapes to digital… because 1) I no longer own a VHS player and 2) a thumb drive takes up WAY less space than three banker boxes of old tapes.

As we were sitting around this holiday season, I remembered that the jump drives had come in. I thought it might be fun to look at old videos with my partner, daughters, and mom. We connected my laptop via HDMI to the TV, inserted the USB, and we were off on a new adventure down memory lane.

I have two overwhelming observations from this humbling experience.

1) You do and say a lot of things—rather confidently, I might add—when you are young and dumb… okay, okay… young, less wise, and without experience. #Hubris

2) Despite bringing them into this world, feeding, housing, clothing, and caring for them– your children will be cruel. #Humiliation

I put decent effort into arriving at this moment… where my daughters could see their mom at their age… and for me to see my parents at my present age… especially when today’s society is recorded ad nauseam. Admittedly, numerous photo albums cataloguing my children’s lives exist in Facebook. As a child of the 80s who lived all her youth and most of her twenties without social media, I’ve thought on more than one occasion how happy I am to not have had ALL that recorded.

I’m even more grateful now because I’ve seen enough of young me and my youthful idealism courtesy of this most recent VHS to digital conversion. No matter how cool you thought you were, trust that your children will inform you otherwise. They’ll make fun of your hair, your clothes, YOU. They will find everything about you hysterical. They’ll be shocked that THAT person, albeit a younger version, is their parent.

And you’ll shock yourself.

These converted VHS tapes contained some home videos, some sporting events (both of my brothers played football and all three of us ran track), and there were a lot of talent shows, dance recitals, and pageants. (Yes, I competed in pageants from age 16-22).

For me, the pitch and tone of my voice (and how much thicker my accent was then—which is saying a lot) were surprising. I’ll gladly accept the pubescent and the hormonal changes to my voice. I miss the deeper drawl of my accent.

It was a bit cringeworthy to see how strongly and overtly I shared my religious beliefs and political views (courtesy of recorded pageant interviews). Or, at minimum, disconcerting to modern day me. Yet, when I think about the life, opportunities, heartbreaks, and experiences I’ve had since then, I am pleased with my personal growth and evolution.

Seeing my body as a teenage girl (when I was overly critical and demanding of it) was astonishing– knowing all too well the complicated relationship females have with their bodies across the course of their lives. As a mother of three daughters, I’ve probably reflected on this the most.

And “back then,” I believed my parents were perfect. Now, I see them with more grace and humanity. They are so much more, as individuals and as the people who raised me, than what I thought I knew of them then.

While this walk down memory lane may have damaged my ego, it didn’t damaged my pride. And, truthfully, my children’s laughter… which resulted in my own laughter… eased the dent in my self-esteem. To quote my high school football coach, Nick Colobro…

Remember who you are, where you come from, and what you stand for!

I’m proud of who I am, where I came from, and what I stand for—then and now.

And, because 2023 is the year of embracing imperfection, I thought I’d share a few of these gems with all of you (should you be interested, need a hearty laugh, or simply wish to marvel at how far AV technology has advanced in my four-and-a-half decades of life).

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“Substitute/Fill-In” Weather Personality on WKPT-TV 19, a local ABC affiliate

(1999-2000, 22-23 years old)