A Written Response to Anti-Semitism at Ski Roundtop

Below is a letter I wrote the general manager of Ski Roundtop after I was forced to overhear a staff member of the Fireside Pub make an extremely offensive comment about Jews in the Holocaust. I am sharing this because it is all of our responsibilities to help foster communities of tolerance.

January 26, 2011

Dear Mr. Hawkes,

My name is Sarah Taby and I am a season pass holder at Ski Roundtop. This afternoon I came to Roundtop and had a lovely time skiing for several hours. When I called it quits for the day, I decided to head up to the Fire Side Pub and wait for my partner to finish his ski day. The waitress had just brought my beer and took my food order when I was forced (he was speaking loudly) to listen to a very offensive comment made by one of your employees. “It is coming down like a Jew out there.” Clearly this is a confusing comment and the individual’s sister aided him in clarifying what he meant by adding, “I didn’t know Jews came down?” To this the employee responded with, “They do when they’re in the shower!”

Needless to say I was offended, not just because this man was making light of the massacre of 6 million Jews, or that I am a Jew, but also because I am a person who believes in respect, tolerance, and understanding for all cultures. I let the bar staff and employees know that I was deeply offended and left the bar. I walked straight to Employee Services and demanded to speak with the manager on duty. I believe this individual’s name was Roger.

Roger was very sympathetic and tried his best to both comfort me and manage the issue at hand. After speaking with the offending party he let me know that the individual responsible for the comment wanted to personally apologize to me and he also offered me a free meal for a future visit. I declined both of these offers and thanked him for his time and effort.

I thought a lot about these events today. My feelings ran the gamut of sad and teary, to extreme anger. However, I could not shake the thought that if this individual is fired he may only learn from this experience that he should think before he speaks, this is obviously true, but I feel he and possibly your staff (because no one attempted to stop or correct his behavior) is in need of a bigger lesson here. In lieu of a free meal, a personal apology, or the loss of an employee’s job, I feel better knowing that Ski Roundtop incorporates a Diversity Training into its 2011-2012 Employee Training Program and in the interim creates and enforces a diversity policy, that would foster an environment of acceptance in the workplace.

By teaching and enforcing a culture of tolerance at your facility I believe it will both benefit your employees and your patrons. This training and policy would tie in nicely with the fifth pillar of your mission, Professionalism. Thank you for any time you could afford this matter and I look forward to hearing from you in the future.

Sincerely,

Sarah Taby

My Life with Ripple; A Memoir

I am submitting this essay into a contest about how dogs change your life. It is a memoir and a thank you to my best buddy Ripple.

As far as birthday

presents go, Ripple

was the best. As for the boyfriend that bought her, he was the

worst. I was introduced to Ripple on my 22^nd birthday. She is a yellow Labrador Retriever. Her full

name is Rippolean Toulouse Bonaparte and if you yell it, starting off low and slow, then building in volume and speed, she will do wild laps around the house. She loves her full name but will also responds to Sweet Pea, Pooh Bear, Love Bug, Rippy-Bippy, Rip-Dog, Rip, and Baby Girl. It would be an understatement to say, Ripple changed my life, the truth is she saved it.

The same boyfriend who presented me with this perfect puppy also cheated on me with several other women, told lies to hurt my reputation, smashed my car window and my heart. I began second-guessing everything about myself. I was shattered. All that remained were pieces of the person I once was.

So, I turned to the easiest outlet for my pain, alcohol and ephedrine. I would drink Monday through Saturday and occasionally Sunday. The ephedrine was used to keep me awake and the alcohol was used to make me forget. However, with a four-month old puppy to take care of, I couldn’t completely destroy myself.

At 3:00am I would stumble home and find Ripple in her crate staring through the bars. It was this stare, that adorable, big-eyed look, which led me to finally let her sleep in the bed. It’s also what gets her extra treats today. We would cuddle up together, me stinking of booze and she with the sweet scent of puppy breath. In the morning I would awake to her whining in my face. Miss Ripple has always demanded to be feed at 7:00am. Since I was already up, I would go to class. While, I was barely able to care for myself, having to care for her saved me.

With honor cords dangling around my neck, I graduated from college that spring. Preceding our break-up, my boyfriend and I were planning to attend law school, get married, and live happily ever after. After my break-up and an uninspiring internship as a legal advocate, I was planning on nothing. My undergraduate degree was in philosophy. This skill was not sought after in the Help Wanted ads and I was clueless as to which direction to head. So I joined Americorp as a Volunteer in Service to America (VISTA) and Ripple and I moved to Baltimore, MD.

As a member of VISTA you have to live where you work. I was hired to help revitalize Waverly. Waverly sat directly across from Better Waverly, which had been destroyed by blight. Waverly was struggling to avoid a similar fate. I lived in a row home on 33^rd street, with a yard the size of a jail cell. Ripple was a young lab who needed to run.

Everyday after work we would walk up 33^rd street making our way to the park across from The Baltimore Museum of Art. This is where dogs and their humans gathered to socialize. It was here that I actually made friends in a city of strangers. Dogs are great conversation starters and seeing the same people routinely can lead to friendships. Through these friends I actually began to put myself back together. I wasn’t that Sorority President who got her heart broken. I was no longer the Vice President of the student body, who could barely do her job, due to depression. I wasn’t the idiot girlfriend who didn’t know her boyfriend was sleeping with everyone on campus. I was simply Ripple’s mom. It was a fresh start, a time to rebuild myself starting from my dog up.

Gradually the pain in my chest subsided and so did my need to be drunk. I was home more. I took better care of myself and subsequently took better care of Ripple. This was a good thing, because Ripple was sick in Baltimore all of the time. I don’t know whether it was the disgusting things she ate off the street or the other dogs she played with, but she was at the vet monthly. With so many extra bills, I couldn’t afford to drink if I wanted to.

Being in the inner city of Baltimore was scary. Walking by your self can be very dangerous. However, with Ripple by my side, I was able to go where I wanted. My dog’s presence provided me with protection. Sometimes people would actually cross the street to avoid walking past us. She gave me independence and confidence in an environment that otherwise could have turned me into a neurotic, frightened mess.

On one occasion she literally saved my life. I was picking a friend up from the bus station. While Ripple and I waited in my car an irrational man approached. He was yelling obscenities and began to pull on the car handle. Ripple let loose, barking, growling, and showing her fangs. The man took one look at her and backed away. His last words were, “You’re lucky that dog is in your car.” Funny, I was thinking the same thing. On the way home from the station my best friend Ripple sat in the front seat and my friend sat in the back.

After finishing my year-of-service in Baltimore, I was not my old self; instead I was a newer, braver version. I had survived in the city with a little help from my dog. I set my sights on new goals and had a better idea of what I wanted to do with my life. I enrolled in graduate studies at Shippensburg University’s Counseling Program. Once again Ripple and I moved and started a new life.

Shippensburg appealed to Ripple. She had a huge yard and learned how to open the back door. She spent the warmer months happily letting her self in and out of the house. It was not so pleasant for me. Finding appealing friends was difficult. The pace of Shippensburg crawled compared to the speed of Baltimore. I wanted to move near my friends in Philly and abandon graduate school. It was Ripple’s companionship that kept me going.

Ripple, like always went everywhere with me. We walked for coffee in the morning, went to see professors, she waited for me in the car while I did my grocery shopping, She was with me when I finally was able to run three miles and even sat next to me at the drive-in movies. It was because we were always together that a local newspaper writer noticed us and asked if he could use us for a story.

I always knew Ripple was calendar quality and now was her time to shine. I had her groomed to perfection for our photo shoot. The photographer took pictures of us playing on Shippensburg University’s campus. Ripple and I playing in the water fountain together, throwing a tennis ball, and the picture that finally got published, her and I simply resting under a tree. When the story came out, it was on the front page of the Shippensburg Sentinel.

The article reflected on our past three years together. I cautioned college students about the hazards of getting a dog while in school. Detailing the difficulties of paying vet bills, finding apartments that would allow pets, and having the time for your dog. Mostly though, it talked about my gratitude to Ripple, my constant friend during the most difficult years of my life. Through her eye’s I saw my goodness and self-worth. With her I met friends that aided me in my rebirth, and I stayed in graduate school.

I promised Ripple if she stuck it out with me, life would be nice for her someday. Throughout our time together we moved on eight different occasions, She lived in apartments, row homes, the country, and the inner city. She has spent days in puppy care, at friend’s houses, and home alone. Throughout all of this she has always greeted me with love and those big brown eyes. Four-years-ago I kept my promise to her. After meeting my current partner Dave, we bought a house with a fenced-in yard, close to a park. Dave loves her like she was always his. We take her on outdoor adventures, car rides, vacations, let her sleep in the bed, and always feed her by 7:00am. Life is good for us.

Ripple is now eight-years-old. The hair around her face is turning white. She hasn’t exactly settled down. She is still one of the fastest dogs at the park, but she sleeps more. She is a lot like me now, comfortable, settled, and happy. I feel as if I owe this all to her, my best friend, constant companion, and healer of my heart.

Technoships and Relationships

I was introduced to two Ryan Binghams today. One was a fictional character from the movie Up in the Air and the other is an alternative country singer. After seeing Ryan Bingham from Up in the Air, I was pretty sure I wanted to write something about how human nature and personal relationships are suffering because of our tech-obsessed world. Then because of technology I was exposed to Ryan Bingham the musician. Call it serendipitous that I googled and fandangoed both of them in one day.

So here is the conundrum, does technology bring us closer or further away from others? True Facebook keeps me connected to high school and college classmates that I might otherwise never speak to. But maybe we’re not supposed to stay that connected. With so many connections it’s easy to lose perspective on our own lives and happiness. We are overexposed to pictures of people’s kids, husbands, wives, houses, cars, and dogs. We read hundreds of tweets and updates about everything from where and what people are eating, to how many babies they are having, and how much weight someone lost or found. I myself have tweeted about having to look at someone’s gunt and posted pictures of the dinner I was eating. It’s overwhelming and difficult to balance your sense of wellbeing, when you are being inundated with all these images. If keeping up with the Jones’ wasn’t hard enough, keeping up with everyone you ever graduated with is absolutely exhausting!

On the other hand, it is because of technology that I was able to connect from watching a trailer of the movie Crazy Heart, liking the song from the trailer, googling it, finding the artist, plugging him into Rhapsody, where I enjoyed his entire catalog of albums. I then posted a link on my facebook telling all my friends to check out Ryan Bingham. Certainly in this case technology brought Ryan Bingham and me a lot closer. But while I was busy with that, I was ignoring Dave, the person in the kitchen with me.

Which makes me wonder how often I give 100% of my attention to anything or anyone anymore. Even as I write this blog, I am listening to music, and screening a cell phone call. Thich Nhat Hanh writes, “The most precious gift we can offer others is our presence. When mindfulness embraces those we love, they will bloom like flowers.” How can we possibly stay mindful in this day and age? Certainly this practice was much easier before Iphones, Blackberrys, and Facebook. We might not have had as many relationships, but perhaps we could give our full attention to the ones we had.

In the end, I believe that technology creates more connections and technoships, but I am not sure it fabricates real relationships. These are made through long dinners with great glasses of wine, walks in the fall, late night adventures, road trips, laughing till you cry, and holding someone while they sob. Technoships are held together by comments posted below a picture, rushed written greetings, voyeurism, and virtual bouquets of flowers. Nothing can take the place of being physically, mentally, and emotionally there for someone.

So while I enjoy listening to Ryan Bingham’s music coming from my laptop, and I find myself recalling certain scenes from Up in the Air, a movie I saw on a huge screen, in surround sound, with high definition technology. The best part of my day was waking up next to Dave, petting my dog, and eating a delicious dinner, all real, tangible, wonderful moments.

I will now proofread and post this on my blog, Facebook, and Twitter account. As a result technology can once again create connections, but hopefully we will find the time to strengthen our relationships with those in the same room as us.

http://www.theupintheairmovie.com/

http://www.binghammusic.com/

Where is that Pesky Voice?

My New Year’s resolution is to write something every day. However, there are a few obstacles to this, simply the pace of my life for starters and my lack of any real knowledge about writing. I don’t just want to write, I want to create something eventually worth reading. I have an inextinguishable desire to share my thoughts with others. It eats at me all the time. It drives me to talk a mile a minute to anyone who will listen. I break into conversations, forget to listen to what people are saying, and speak really loudly. I have something to say! But what is it?

Over holiday break I was telling my family my desire to find my voice as a writer. I laughed and said, “ I hope when I do find my voice it sounds like David Sedaris.” I admire his openness, his humor, and his ability to start a story off as if he is the most unique person in the world and then to sum it up with his ordinariness. This contradiction, I believe, is something that is present in all of us, the idea that we are unique hiding the underlying truth that we are not. But my voice is not David Sedaris’. I don’t know what it is, but I want to find out, so I googled it.

You can google anything! I found in article that tells you how to find your voice in 5 simple steps! It’s titled, How to Find Your Voice as a Writer, the author is unknown. Here are the five steps.

Step 1
Explore yourself. Work through what you feel and think about things, what you went through as a child, the people who hurt and helped you throughout your life. By doing this, your natural voice will show through in your writing. The best guide for this kind of exploration is Julia Cameron's "The Artist's Way."

Explore yourself. I have been in some form of counseling for the past ten years. I have been “exploring” myself for a decade. I have discussed my childhood, teen years, family, friendships, boyfriends, life, thoughts, habits, etc. for the past ten years. I feel I have thoroughly put the foundation down for Step 1.

Step 2
Read the great writers. Start with anthologies like "The Best American Essays" and "The Best American Short Stories," which come out annually. Read nonfiction to get the unmediated writer's voice. In fiction, identify some of the narrator's traits that influence how they are telling the story.

Yikes! Yes I do read. But I don’t know if I read enough. I estimate that I read four hours weekly. The topics generally have to do with counseling, self-help, marketing, and business. I do not usually enjoy fiction, unless it is that heavy fiction that makes you think existential thoughts about yourself and generally only find something interesting if it applies to my current goals in life. Like I said, I got Step 1 down. Another problem is time. If I am reading in the little free time I have, how will I have time to write? However, after thinking on this for a bit, I believe that it is not so bad. I don’t want to write a fiction story. I am a confessionalist by nature, I want to confess to people, knowing myself is probably the most important piece to that desire. So perhaps I have Step 2 down too.

Step 3
Practice your voice through writing exercises. Keep a journal and explore different techniques for discovering things about yourself. Search Amazon.com for "writing exercises" to get a wide selection of books or do the daily writing prompt at Writer's Digest.

Daily writing prompts at Writer’s Digest, check. I went to their website and subscribed to their daily writing prompts. They are interesting exercises, and I look forward to toying with them in the future. Journal writing on the other hand is a little tricky. When I was younger and suffering as only a woman in late adolescence can suffer, keeping a journal was a piece of cake for me. It took no effort to fill the pages with all the agony that I was inviting into my life. I needed those journals, because I had to document all that pain. Now I find myself in a beautiful place, little pain, and the urgency in which I use to write in my journals has completely dissipated. I guess misery leads to action. This is merely an obstacle I will have to overcome. A new journal with a pen will be placed by my bed and I will make sure to find fresh ways to make it part of my life again.

Step 4
Write short stories, essays, articles, poetry, monologues, even blog entries. Each written form forces you to explore a different aspect of your voice. It's especially beneficial to stretch your comfort zone. The forms you're most uncomfortable with can, with practice, lead to insights about how you want to express yourself.

Yuck! Sorry Step 4, I will not be following you. Well this was my first thought but with further inspection I may already do this. I write a monthly newsletter for my store, so I guess I do write articles. I have a history of attempting to write pathetic poetry, and hell I even write this blog. So maybe Step 4 is not so bad after all. I just need to widen my genre and write more.

Step 5
Explore your narrator in your fiction. Have them write a letter of introduction to your reader and be mindful of the intrusion of your writer's voice. Especially let them say all the things you would never say or don't want them to say. Even if you don't use the material, you'll know your narrator's voice better.

Step 5 is a little difficult for me to do, considering I have not written anything that would require a narrator. Step 5 will have to wait to I actually write some fiction and then I will add it to one of my new, nightly, self-appointed, journal assignments.

That was all of them, five easy steps to help me find my voice as a writer. Surprisingly, I have found that I have already done most of these steps and still I do not think I have a unique voice in which to write with. Furthermore, if I was being honest, I don’t even know what “finding your voice as a writer” means. I have always been a unique individual; self-reflection is one of the staples of my spare time. I don’t think I have to find my voice as a writer; I need to learn how to get it onto paper. I’ll have to google that next.

Teenagers Make the Best Teachers!

Many of you know that I am a counselor who specializes in adolescence. I truly enjoy working with teenagers and their families, however sometimes when you spend so much time working with individuals and families in crisis you forget there are plenty of adolescence who are doing great and are making amazing lives for themselves. This summer I had the opportunity to spend time with some of these unique teens and I truly am better for it.

Throughout this summer I spent more time working at Miss Ruth's Time Bomb and because of this had the time to truly become friends with some teenagers who have grown very important to me. One is Hope. Hope is an amazing, vintage, fashion, Goddess. It is her destiny to become an important figure in fashion. She inspires me with her personal style, drive, and intelligence. I really got a sense for how to mix vintage pieces up, beyond the expected. I also was refreshed on the importance of going after ones dreams with the passion of a 16-year-old. Thank you Hope for renewing my childhood passion for fashion and for encouraging me to write my blog more often. I am so blessed to have met you and your fantastic sisters.

I also had the pleasure of enjoying my summer days with our old employee Jess. She was our first Time Bomb girl and as she prepared to move on to her new ballet company, we got to spend time together and know each other more. I tried to emulate her care free attitude. She was in the middle of transition central and she seemed pretty collected about the whole thing. I remember one day we were walking back from the post office together and I tried to pretend that I too was 18-years-old again. I walked with a little less stiffness, tried to ignore the fact that we were walking in the middle of the alley and cars were struggling to avoid us. I also attempted to play it cool as my shorts got caught on a fence and I tripped. All in all, it occurred to me that I was far to aware to go fully back to my teen years, but I certainly enjoyed pretending from time to time. Jess thank you for sharing your world with me, dance your heart out.

Then there was Frankie. Frankie is a 19-year-old boy who lives his life on a stage. He finds a way to entertain those surrounding him at all times! He is totally a blast to be around. His passion for dressing up and singing is contagious. He is truly one of the most talented individuals I have ever met and I know he is going to make his mark in the theatre world. One night he came to puppy class with me, even though he was not raising a puppy, he managed to become the center of attention, volunteering and telling jokes. He brought everyone there so much joy. Frankie, you remind me of the importance of letting your true light shine. Thank you, you truly are a gift!

Finally there is Erin. She is our new Time Bomb employee. She is 19-years-old and really knows how to work hard. It is a pleasure to do a shift with her. She seems to simply love to be working around vintage clothing. She feels like an old soul with the heart of a child. I am so thankful she applied to work with us. When I am with her I am reminded of the importance of being unique. Spending the day working with her is a joy, because she is so full of life. Erin, thanks for being you and inspiring me to keep my edge. You're awesome.

All in all I have been so lucky to know these dynamic, awesome, adolescent individuals. I often hear people talking about how kids just aren't the same anymore and they're right. Kids today have so much more access to information, music, art, relationships. Their worlds are so huge, it is almost impossible for us to understand. But everyday I go to work and try to relate to them. I open my heart and head up and let them teach me about their lives. They are awesome and my life gets better and better because they're in it!

Fashion and Personal Identity

Two weeks ago I walked into my therapist’s office and immediately apologized for being in sweat pants. He said, “Sarah, this is the third time you have apologized for wearing workout clothes to my office, what’s with that?” I sat dumb founded, “what was with that?” I have been thinking about this for two weeks. I see him again tonight and I am now ready to discuss my connection to fashion and self.

I grew up in Shamokin, PA. The population was nearly 10,000 and I graduated with about 130 kids. It has many charms, however fashion was absolutely not one of them. Mom jeans, stretch pants, and T-shirts are the uniform. I was lucky however, to have a mother who was very aware of fashion, even if it was not accessible, an aunt who would take me to the Philadelphia every year and buy my school clothes, and a father who instilled in me the importance of being unique. All of these factors created the perfect foundation to express myself through clothing. I may not have had fine art skills but I did have leopard tights and outrageous dresses.

I never bought basics, instead I looked for pieces that would make me stand out, help me be seen. It worked and continues to work. I am known for my unique personal style. While, I completely embrace this, it has also created existential anxiety.  If the way I dressed was fused with my identity, who was I when I was simply in jeans and a sweatshirt?

I often feel like a polarized person. Because of my work as a counselor at an all boys adventure school, I spend many of my days in the most blasé clothes. While, I don’t seem to mind this at work, as soon as I step into my shop, I feel very uncomfortable. I start the apologizing and explaining game. I tell my employees that I can’t dress fun at school; I tell customers what I do during the day, etc. I apologize to almost everyone.  I don’t want them to think the person they are looking at is the real me.  I mean the real me would be in vintage skirt with red cowboy boots, and a bright hair flower.

In addition to this behavior, when I am at home, I immediately take off my clothes from the day and put on pajama bottoms and a sweatshirt. I want to be in a cocoon of comfort and safety. Its like stretching for me, I feel relieved, relaxed, and it symbolizes that the there is no imaginary or real eyes looking and/or judging. Its as if I am invisible. Surprisingly, this is comforting.

Clothes have become a costume for me, a way to express myself, but also a way to hide. What am I covering up? What am I trying to communicate? I believe I am attempting to tell the world that I am a unique and deeply complicated individual. When I am wearing something simpler, I could be confused as an average person. This misunderstanding feels unbearable. The most important part of my personal identity is the idea that I am unlike others. The root of this notion may have developed from the attention I received throughout my life from my clothing choices. So, if it’s clothing that makes me unique, than if I don’t have the right clothes on, I am not unique. Shit, that sounds so base and yet eerily resonating.

I remember when I was four and I loved to wear these red shorts with white trim and a white tank top that had red trim. I remember the jean skirt and purple polo I wore on the first day of kindergarten (I was looking classic and smart). I can recall fighting with my mother about navy blue mary janes (they were ugly and childish) and becoming hysterical over her attempts to make me wear brown tights to ballet class. I loved my purple blazer with rhinestone buttons in sixth grade, in seventh grade I wore V-neck sweaters backwards and by the time I was in high school, I was a thrift store junky, always looking for pieces no one else owned or could find. These memories are the fabric of my personal identity development. However, at thirty its time for me to allow the less complicated, toned down, average pieces of myself to have some room too. I think if I give her some space to grow and fuse into my identity, she might end up surprising me. 

Miss Peanut Ponders Chinese Adoption

Ever since I learned in junior high, that in China, female children are not valued or desired, I had an impulse to adopt one. I don't know why or where this inclination came from, probably my feminist beliefs, but when I think of my future with a child, I never imagine that it will pass through my body. Instead, I picture her as a Chinese baby girl. 

However, "my impulse" would have to change to "Dave and I's dedication" if this was truly going to happen. The Chinese government has very strict international adoption laws.  

These requirements are...

 

·       Married couples age 30 to 50 years are eligible to adopt a healthy child; couples age 50 to 55 years are eligible to adopt a Waiting Child

·       Married for 2 years; if either parent was previously married, current marriage must be at least 5 years; no more than 2 previous marriages for either parent

·       Both parents are fully mentally and physically healthy, including Body Mass Index under 40, no medication for psychological conditions within the past 2 years, no chronic medical conditions that limit life expectancy, no significant mental health diagnosis, no history of substance abuse within the past 10 years.

·       Annual income exceeding $10,000 per family member, including child to be adopted (i.e. $30,000 for a couple adopting their first child)

·       Family’s net worth must exceed $80,000

·       Both parents have high school diploma or higher

·       Families with more than 4 children under 18 are not accepted; youngest child must be over 1 year old (Restriction does not apply to families adopting Waiting Children)

·       No criminal record or history of domestic violence, sexual abuse, or child abuse/neglect

·       One applicant must be a U.S. citizen

·      

Some of these requirements Dave and I could pass with our hands tied behind our backs. However, others would require more planning. For one, we would have to get married immediately. Due to Dave’s past marital status we would have to be married 5-years before starting the application. If he could possibly get his marriage annulled and I don’t think, “ I was really drunk at the reception” counts as grounds for an annulment, the minimum would be 2 years. In addition to this, it takes 3-years from the start of an application to receiving your child.  So we are all ready up to a 5-8 year wait.

Now, if we would start this process; we also have to pay $23,000, when finalized. While, they don’t expect you to pay up-front, you do need to come up with thousands of dollars at a time. I guess one positive of waiting 8-years is that you have time to save!

Then there are requirements that almost seem impossible, “Family’s net worth must exceed $80,000.” In 5-years could Dave and I’s net worth exceed $80,000? With a mortgage, school loans, credit card debt, and car payments, is it possible? I haven’t actually sat down and done the math, partially because I am too scared to look at those figures.

When I started researching the process, I didn’t expect to find myself seriously considering my financial situation. However, maybe this is the Chinese government’s intention. Should, anyone haphazardly decide to adopt or have a child? Maybe, some version of these requirements should be in place in the United States. Honestly, should just anyone be allowed to have a child? I understand what road that would lead us down. One filled with elitism and Whites. But truthfully, the criteria set by the Chinese government isn’t so insane. It shows an expectation of stability and as an adolescent mental health counselor, I know stability is what children thrive on. After consideration the Chinese government's requirements seem logical. 

Currently, I am sitting at Panera Bread. When I walked in the doors, I saw in the corner of the restaurant a White, married couple, with their Asian baby girl. They had that “we just returned from attending church” look. They appeared clean and crisp. I am the antithesis of them. I am a single, in-debt, tattooed, and agnostic. Could I ever clean up that much? Could Dave and I fake-out the Chinese government? I think we can and give one baby girl, a life full of Love, Fun, Creativity, and most importantly Stability.