Return to Sanity

A woman in he US was stopped and held by TSA because she requested her milk not to go through the x-ray machine (under TSA guidelines, breast milk is considered a medical liquid and can be given an alternative security check). Obviously the TSA agents didn't like her tone or attempt to dictate what should be done with her breast milk: they not only searched her several times, but held her in security long enough for her to miss her flight.

To me, this is a gross over-stepping of authority by persons who chose not to use any common sense.
There's just no real sane reason why this behavior should ever be tolerated. And to think that this US citizen was in such a powerless position, that she wasn't even able to question what was happening to her... scary.

See the footage here:

Growing Up is Hard to Do

Maybe growing up isn’t so hard, but getting older definitely is.

I remember a time when all I worried about was how many weeks it was until Christmas or my next birthday; or whether or not I would like what my mother was cooking for dinner. It was a time when pain was easily soothed by a couple of choc-chip cookies and a glass of cold milk.

Life is different at 30. At 30, everything seems more complicated and worrisome, and no amount of cookies will make it better. In fact, with its fat content, it’s bound to make things worse.

I don’t feel any older than I did at 21, but my body and my surrounds do a good job at reminding me. Every time I look into the mirror, I curse its lying reflection: that can’t be me, can it? When did those wrinkles, grey hairs, and chicken wing arms sneak up on me? Best to stop looking in the mirror.

But there’s one morality check, one happening that reminds us all that ageing is inescapable: the first time you see your parents “old”. I’m not talking about viewing them as being adult, uncool, daggy, older, stiff or conservative… but the first time you see your own mother or father grayed, wrinkled or hospitalized (due to age related sickness). Suddenly the focus on the grey hairs, wrinkles and turkey necks fade, and you’re forced to re-evaluate your own mortality.

My mother recently had a stroke. It was her second stroke in three years. She’s doing well, luckily, but seeing her in the hospital was unnerving. Seeing her look frail, weak, subdued, and old was scary. It’s the kind of growing up that’s hard to do.

Home and alone, I decided to look through some old photo albums. In a clarified moment, I realized that the farther along life’s path I move, the farther along they move too. Although I feel less-than rushed to get married and have children, my parents aren’t going to live as long as I do.

Soon after opening a bottle of red, I had a second enlightening moment: wine is so much better than cookies and milk. Maybe this getting older thing isn’t so bad after all.