Heather Hodges

I am teaching an Introduction to Psychology course at the University of Phoenix campus here in Tulsa.  This week I posed a question to my students that started an interesting and passionate discussion.

“Does religious commitment improve mental health?”

What do you think?

I recently sat down with Caleb(6) and Elijah(4 1/2) to watch the movie, “Miss Potter.” I have been a fan of Beatrix Potter my whole life and have of course read the tales of Peter Rabbit, Jemimah Puddle Duck, Samuel Whiskers and all their friends to my sons. I thought they would enjoy the story behind the stories. Another attracive feature of the movie for little boys, I thought, is that Obi-Wan Kenobi (Ewan McGregor) plays in it.

The movie is a thoroughly enjoyable true story about the life of an artist, naturalist, and children’s author. Beatrix Potter was a brilliant, modern woman living in Victorian England. She remains the most successful classic children’s author of all time. Her stories have been translated into more than 30 languages and it’s hard to find a child anywhere who has not heard of Peter Rabbit and Benjamin Bunny. In addition to all that, the movie was beautifully made and filmed on location in the Lake District.

About thirty minutes into the movie, I noticed both of the boys starting to squirm and fuss. “Mommy,” Elijah said, “this movie is boring, no one is getting shot.” I couldn’t believe my ears. Has my 4 year old already been conditioned to only be entertained by violent movies? Are my children buying into that wretched part of American culture? Am I a failed mother? Where did we go wrong?

Or is it possible that my sons are not unlike the millions and millions of boys of the past, present and future? From toddler-hood they have been trying to kill themselves, and each other for that matter. My primary daily task as a mother has been to keep them alive. If they can climb on it, they will jump off it. They have made “guns” out of carrots, toothbrushes, and sticks. They pick up hamsters by the tail, throw rocks, play with fire, and slide down the stairs in sleeping bags. They get great pleasure out of irritating each other, their mom, dad, grandparents, teachers, and other children. Their life motto is, “Jump first, look second.”

As a marriage and family therapist I know that boys act like this because of the way they are neurologically wired and because of the influence of hormones that stimulate aggressive behavior. I wish I could say this knowledge has helped me when I’ve been at my wit’s end with them. It does give me some comfort though, that others have noticed this rascally behavior in boys.

Over 2,300 years ago Plato wrote, “Of all the animals, the boy is the most unmanageable.” And a little more recently, an insightful author told a tale of two little boys who couldn’t resist the temptation to risk everything by sneaking into Mr. McGregor’s garden just to steal a few vegetables. Their thoughtless, rambunctious actions nearly landed them in a pie. So, Elijah, I’m afraid “Miss Potter” doesn’t have any guns. But she does have a wonderful understanding of the nature of little boys. Thank you Beatrix for your astute perception and the creative way that you remind us that “Boys will be boys.”

Parents: A great website for your children to explore the world of Beatrix Potter with downloads, coloring pages, games, and of course stories is www.Peter Rabbit.com. Enjoy!

I will no longer complain about the difficulties of travel. Our good friend Rob Browne returned home this week from a month long mission trip to Russia. He was traveling with two of his young sons and his 62 year old mother. They were about half way home when tragedy struck. Go to Rob Browne to read the entire story.

The last leg of my journey this summer was to stop in Madrid, Spain to meet Cecilia’s husband and four children. This was by far the most pleasant portion of my trip. I was treated like an honored guest and shown the true meaning of Polish hospitality. That’s right, I was in Spain experiencing Polish hospitality! Cecilia’s husband, Bogus, is from Poland. Polish hospitality is legendary and is rivaled only by Spanish hospitality. I have never eaten such good food, slept so well, or made to feel like such a special member of the family.

After Mass on Sunday we took a drive to the walled city of Avila. This was outside the cathedral at a lovely cafe sitting down for lunch. Starting with me and going clockwise are: Teresa, Bogus holding Julian, Cecilia, Daniel, and Adrian. We arrived in Avila around noon, but had to wait until 2:00 for the restaurants to open for lunch. My American stomach was growling, but the wait was well worth it. By the time I left Spain I had adjusted to the 2-3 o’clock lunches and the 9-11pm suppers.

The walls around Avila are 1,000 years old, but they are still in pristine condition. We took a little tourist trolley ride around the city. During the ride I held Cecilia’s daughter, Teresa, on my lap. She is a gorgeous little blond girl. She and I became quite attached to each other during my stay. During the 40 minute ride Cecilia and I unknowingly became the butt of one of the funniest practical jokes I’ve ever been a part of. Bogus, her husband pulled a fast one on us, that I will only repeat in person if you catch me at the right moment.

Teresa and me at her grandparent’s house in the country outside of Madrid.

Cecilia’s parents at their home in Collado. These two special people have not changed in twenty years. They took prodigious care of me, I could not have felt more at ease in their home. I even got to take a real Spanish siesta while visiting them. It was one of the best naps I’ve ever had.

Every evening while I was staying with Cecilia’s family I got to read a bedtime story to the children. This was a very special thing for all of us. In a previous post, I mentioned that I am fascinated by how languages are learned. An interesting fact about these four children is that they all speak THREE languages. Cecilia only speaks to the children in English, their father speaks to them in Polish, and they live in Spain and of course speak Spanish. What an accomplishment.

On my last night in Spain, Cecilia threw a dinner party for me so that I could visit with her brother, Gonzalo and his wife, and her sister, Teresa and her husband. We had all gone to the American School of Paris together and had a fun evening.

Our meal at the dinner party…paella. In Spain you can order paella out, just like we order pizza out here. Yummmmy.

“Feathers shall raise men even as they do birds, toward heaven; that is by letters written by their quills.”

-Leonardo Da Vinci

Cecilia de la Hoz and I met when we were 13 years old in 8th grade. Our dads were each working in France at the time and so our paths crossed while we were attending the American School of Paris. Cecilia is from Madrid, Spain and I am from Ft. Worth, Texas, but a fast friendship was formed and has lasted for 22 years (so far.)

The American School of Paris (ASP) is an international school and students from many different countries attend the school because their parents are in France for business, diplomatic reasons, etc. It has great academics but an excellent performing and visual arts program. My 8th grade art teacher, Mr. Kingsly, made an indelible impression on me and I can still hear his voice booming out encouragements over the class.

It was our first full day together in Paris and we set out to see our childhood homes and our old school.

This was my family’s home in Garches.

The Boulangerie/Patissierie by our home. The best baguettes and pastries in the WORLD!

We were met at ASP by Chris Chater the lower school music teacher and performing arts guru. He hasn’t changed a bit in 20 years….well except he has gray hair now instead of brown. This picture was taken in the classroom of Marie Wright, the mom of another of our good friends, Paloma.

In the middle school band room where Cecilia played clarinet and Paloma and I played flute. Our brothers were also in band at the same time, Houston on trumpet and Gonzalo on trombone. What a nice little ensemble we made.

By the old printing press at ASP, looking towards the gym and cafeteria. The upper school is on our right.

The softball diamond and soccer field and the old gym in the distance. It had been a great trip down memory lane. We looked at old year books and saw old teachers, friends and old crushes. We wondered what had happened to them all. We talked about how the school has endured bomb threats, a fire, and several floods. It was a joy to be there again twenty years later with one of the people who had made my experience there so memorable. Thanks Cecilia! The only thing missing was you Paloma!

After visiting L’Orangerie I set off for the Louvre. One of the things that has changed about Paris since we lived there is Le Pyramid. The plans and construction of this new architectural feature were just beginning when we left Paris in 1987. With only a few hours I had to decide where to go first. So I quickly found the Vermeers and Reubens.

This small gem was just as I had hoped it would be…perfect. Next to it hung “The Astronomer.” I”m sorry to say I didn’t get a good picture. We could take photos without flash, so some of the shots are a little blurry.

This is the Hall of Reubens. One gorgeous painting after another. One of the things that kept surprising me was the size of paintings. Either they were smaller than I had imagined or they were much larger, like these.

The “Winged Victory of Samothrac.”

Taken from a window inside the Louvre looking towards Le Pyramid and the Eiffel Tower.

Next were the Egyptian artifacts, I was actually looking for something in particular that I had remembered from my childhood. But this piece looked a little incomplete without a head, so I had to stop and help out.

I found him. This is “Pete.” I’m not really sure who this man was in real life, historians place his death around 332- 330 B.C. But this mummy caused me more nightmares as a child than any scary movie I ever saw. My brother, Houston, and I named him Pete many years ago after the decomposed garden additive Pete moss. I sought him out to symbolically conquer my fears of mummies. Yep, it did the trick. No big deal any more.

On to the Persian antiquities. Does this look familiar? This is from King Darius I palace in present day Iran. This is similar to the bird-like version that my brothers and I stood on when I was about 3 of 4 years old. (May 2007 Archives)

I knew I had seen this before. This is also from King Darius’ I palace in Persia. The Frieze of Archers circa 520 B.C. Note the picture below is about thirty years old, and was taken in Iran. Yes, that’s me, and Houston is on the far right. Cute tummy bro !

Paris, France. It has been 20 years since I lived here in 1987. My family lived in France because of my dad’s job and my brother’s and I went to the American School of Paris. Returning to this beautiful city felt almost like coming home. It was very paradoxical for me, so much had changed, but so much had remained the same. But the one thing that has not changed is how much I love Paris!!!!! I had about 8 hours to myself before my friend, Cecilia arrived. I bought croissants and pain aux chocolates and I set off to visit the Musee de L’Orangerie, the Jeu de Pomme, and of course the Musee de Louvre. With only 8 hours I had to run!!! The Louvre alone can take days to see, so I had to decide what I wanted to see the most.

Artists selling their works along the Seine.

L’Orangerie was spectacular. I have not seen these works as an adult and they were breathtaking. Monet’s waterlilies each had their own mood, and I saw things in the paintings that I had never seen before. I’m sure the next time I visit them I will see something new again. His “Red Boats at Argenteuille” was so fresh, it looked as though he had just put down his brush.

There were many Renoirs in L’Orangerie. Around each corner was a new treasure. I could scarcely control my emotions. I would vacillate between giddiness and tears. So I laughed and cried at the same time because of the beauty. I was so happy to be there and could scarcely take in the whole experience.