My most recent column leaves me wondering why people can’t keep some words to themselves. Here it is:
This past Sunday, we took a trip to our favorite beach. We had been looking forward to a getaway for weeks. If I had known how many times Brian and the kids were going to sing “On Top of Spaghetti,” I might have stayed home, but I had already committed to the adventure.
Once I got there, I wondered about the wisdom of trading one of the last warm days of the season for a foggy chill, but the coast was calling us. We had to go.
The beach is where we decompress. My kids love peering into tide pools, climbing the cliffs and running through the surf. They happily devote hours to finding shells and run screaming, “Mom! Mom!” whenever they find one they like. If anyone ever gets hurt or into trouble, I won’t know it, I’m so deconditioned to their outbursts.
Since the day was so cool, I suggested a walk along the Coastside Trail. The part we favor runs along a bluff overlooking the ocean. The children can run and play and get some energy out without getting wet. The kids agreed, in part because they like to search for bunnies at the end of the trail. Apparently, bunnies by the beach are way more interesting than the common jackrabbits that populate our field here at home.
Part of the trail borders a golf course. Last time we visited, Brian tried to explain the game of golf to the kids, but without a golfer in sight, there wasn’t much chance to connect what he said to what they saw.
On this foggy day, there were golfers everywhere. Who plays golf in the fog? Isn’t it hard enough to see that tiny little hole on a clear day? We tried to keep a low profile.
When we go places, we stand out. It isn’t only because Sophia insists on wearing her new tie-dye pants wherever we go. We rarely, if ever, see another family with as many children as we have.
In case we forget that our large family makes an impression, some folks are kind enough to ask questions. For the record: Yes, we know where kids come from. Yes, we have our hands full. Now for the answers we don’t often get to give: Yes, we know we are blessed. We are quite content, thank you.
So there we were, hiking alongside the golf course, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. We watched in near-silent anticipation as the first golfer approached the ball and completed her swing. Brian started fielding questions, going back over basic rules. He hadn’t gotten to the birdie versus bogie vocabulary lesson when we came upon our next group of golfers. Again, we waited.
The golfer hit the ball, and then surprised me. The fog momentarily cleared around the foursome as the air turned blue. These were some new golfing words, ones Brian hadn’t covered in his golf lesson. We quickly returned to our hike, relieved that nobody had asked for definitions.
The longer I walked, the more it bugged me. What happened to the concept that some situations, and some vocabulary, are not appropriate in front of children in particular, but also in front of total strangers? Have we, as a society, lost so much integrity that we can’t control ourselves just enough to shield children from inappropriate language and behavior?
It doesn’t stop on the golf course, of course. Billboards, bumper stickers, T-shirts ambush us with topics we’d rather not discuss with a 6-year-old. Conversations overheard at a restaurant can be equally alarming.
It can be enough to make this homeschooler just want to stay home.
Got a question? Something you want to bring to my attention? 
