A Pilgrim’s Digression

When you were a teenager, did you sleep more than you do now? When you were a teenager, if someone offered you quality, name-brand clothes, would you turn them down, instead opting to buy your clothes at the Goodwill?

Having a teenager come live with us as a foster child has been both rewarding and revealing. It has been rewarding in that so far, we seem to have lucked out and been given a mannerly, thoughtful, creative teenage son without all the pains and tribulations of raising him for 18 years. It has been revealing in that I think both Lynn and I have long forgotten what it was like to be a teenager.

Case in point: during his first week with us, indeed almost on his first day, Lynn remarked that J. seemed to sleep a lot during the day and stay up late at night. She was worried it was going to disturb B.’s sleep patterns. His first or second day with us, J. slept until around noon, at which point Lynn woke him for lunch with her and B. After eating, he puttered around the house. He did a load of laundry–and folded it–much to Lynn’s surprise. he watched some TV. Then he went back to bed.

Around five, Lynn started to worry that he was going to sleep too much and be up all night. So she released the puppy into the bedroom, and Saffy crawled all over his face and licked him and nibbled his ears until he woke up.

In the coming days, Lynn and I talked concernedly about his sleep patterns, feeling like two old relics of a former era. Was it something to worry about? Should we mention it to him?

We did mention it to him, not as a reprimand or anything like that, but kind of in a joking way. His response was, “I’ll be getting up early for school soon enough. I’m going to take advantage of the summer break for as long as possible.”

This seemed perfectly reasonable to me. We really haven’t thought much more about it. But it reminded me of my own teenage years, and how I would love to have had the luxury of parents who let me sleep as much as I wanted. My parents thought sleeping past eight was a sure sign of delinquency. My grandparents were even worse. When I stayed over with them, around seven and sometimes even earlier, they would start purposefully banging pots and pans around in the kitchen as they made breakfast, in order to get me up.

Then, this week, Lynn started talking to J. about buying him some school clothes. He is very proud of the fact that he buys his clothes at Goodwill, and we think it’s admirable as well. However, some of the clothes he has bought there look pretty natty. I understand, natty is probably the style, these days (oh God, I sound ancient saying that!), but as Lynn remarked to him, his girlfriend might want him to take her to a nice place on a date and he might want to dress up a bit. Lynn said she wants to take him to J.C. Pennys or Peebles and buy him some nice clothes, maybe some Levis, or Ralph Lauren, or Polo.

J.’s response was, “I’m not paying $30.00 for a pair of pants. I’ll go to the Goodwill.” Lynn said, “You wouldn’t be paying for the clothes. I would pay for the clothes.”

Yet he still said no, he wanted to do his shopping at Goodwill. So finally, Lynn said, “Look, I’ll give you a hundred dollars to go shopping at Goodwill, but I am going to buy you some nice clothes, too.”

Will he wear them, though? Who knows. He definitely has a unique style, and it’s hard to imagine him in name brand clothes. Personally, my feeling is, if he wants to buy his clothes at Goodwill, let him. If the pants have holes in them and the shirts are stained…well…I’ve seen college students wearing clothes that look as tattered, or worse.

Anyway, for boys, what they like to wear is not so important as for girls; I imagine with a girl, getting them to dress more discreetly is of primary importance to parents. But with a boy, if he wants to dress like a bum, or a lumberjack, or a punk for that matter, oh well. More harm is done by arguing with him than by acquiescing.

J. is a good kid, and I feel lucky to have him living with us. He aspires to be an artist, a goal I am intent on encouraging him to pursue. I talked with him last weekend about his college ambitions. He wants to go to either Virginia Commonwealth University, which apparently has a good art school, or Berea College in Kentucky, which offers excellent financial aid to underprivileged youths. I am probably going to root for Berea, knowing what I do about the school, and knowing that in general, the small, private college experience is more rewarding than the large, state school experience.

I’ve talked with him at length about comic books and movies, his primary interests. He has spent time with B., coloring and drawing with him, and sometimes just watching SpongeBob. This makes B. incredibly happy, as you can imagine. He already calls J. his brother. J. is a bright, curious, intelligent kid, and I am very happy to have him as a member of our family.