The kids were warned before I left the house that I needed to make a detour, just a short stop to fill up the gas tank.  I told them that King Fahd of the House of Saud had died and that oil prices had risen in response to the announcement of his death.  Better fill my tank now before the oil price increase registered at the pump.

My seven-year-old asked when there would be a new king; I told him it was already done, that King Fahd's brother had been named as his successor.  Oh, he said, chewing on his lip, thinking this over.

My 11-year-old asked why the prices rose if there already was a succession, and why would the entire stock market be sensitive to this; I explained that investors were probably concerned about instability in Saudi Arabia, one of the largest sources of oil in the world, explained that investors would be worried that oil production might be disrupted by a change in leadership or resulting related problems.  I also reminded her that oil isn't just gasoline, but plastics and fertilizer and diesel fuel, all of which are made from oil.  Something that affects the price of oil affects all these things and processes or businesses that use these things.  She nodded her head in understanding; her lessons in economics during this past school year helped a lot.

I stepped out of the car as I pulled up to the pump; the news began on the radio since it was at the top of the hour.  Listen, I told my son, the story about the king might be on the news.  I hoped this little assignment would keep him from getting too restless or itchy while waiting for me to finish pumping gas.

When I got back in the car, my son asked, Remember the 9/11 movie we watched together?

Yes, I do...we'd watched most of Fahrenheit 9/11 on DVD together recently, excepting portions which compelled me to cover his eyes and for which my daughter would either cover hers or leave the room.

Is the king that died the same king that the movie talked about, the same Saudis, the ones that President Bush knows?

Yes, baby, it is.  The same Saudi family, the same country, the place where so much oil comes from.

Hmm.  Okay, he said.

Ah.  He's put it all together; I'm torn with pride that he's bright enough to put all the pieces together, and sad that he has to.

On the other hand, I remember what I'd learned alone, by myself, when I was his age and my daughter's age.  Most parents didn't talk about the Vietnam War or Watergate with school children; the war and impeachment were just background noise in our daily lives.  I don't remember consciously thinking about the lack of discussion; I only remember my unspoken and frustrated hurt and anger about My Lai and Kent State and the body counts on the news, the icky feeling of betrayal by a man who seemed to sweat too much on television even for a politician.  My feelings were never really validated except by the passage of time.

I'd told the kids when we watched Fahrenheit 9/11 that I wanted them to see what made me so angry, wanted them to understand what compels me and my fellow activists to change the political landscape.  The kids have been to a number of political action committee and party meetings with me; it all seems like dry and disconnected ant-like scurrying without context, I'm sure.  But the movie F-9/11 generated a lot of family conversation; it helped me point to things that we have to do differently on a local basis and on a national basis.  

And I told them I didn't want to learn these things on their own; I wanted to be able to talk about them, didn't want them to think they were all alone if they heard or read about the war and 9/11 and the end of oil.  I wanted them to be able to see the big picture without thinking it wasn't any of their business, that they weren't entitled to think about the whole world and how they fit into this picture.

Most importantly, I told them that they couldn't count on the problems they saw being solved by adults before they became adults themselves.  These were problems that had been a long time brewing, would need to be solved by them as well as by people who are adults now.  Like designing cars that don't use oil and figuring out how to make fuel available for these instead of gas stations -- it will take a lifetime to unwind what we've wound as culture for longer than a lifetime.

Of course as soon as I say this my son wants to whip out pen and crayons right then and there and start drawing cars of a kind that don't burn gas and fly through the air...

I suppose for a summer vacation at home with Mom we're doing okay.  It's not action-packed from a kid's perspective and it's not always easy, like explaining why Saudis haven't permitted women to vote or drive, or converse with men who weren't their father or spouse.  (My son had asked me why I didn't like the Saudi family; he could already tell I didn't think much of them.  I told him I didn't like the way they ran their country, didn't care for their politics -- and of course he asked why yet again.  I told them a close friend, one they think of as their aunt, left the Army back way back when the first Iraq War started; she helped her reserve unit muster out, but she refused to serve in a land where her own country would expect her to submit to anti-woman laws, not being able to smoke, swear or drive being her idea of hell on earth.  Let alone that the Saudis helped create Osama bin Laden.)   

But we're cramming in a lot of stuff I know they won't get in school.

Just wish I knew what this week's lesson plan would be in advance of living it.

2:39:46 PM    comment []