May 30, 2002, 8:45 a.m.
So This Is 40
Milestone day.

By Susan Konig

May 30, the traditional Memorial Day before everyone got a Monday off. And today, the victims of September 11 will be remembered at Ground Zero as the recovery effort officially ends.

Today I turn 40.

Ordinarily, I think this milestone birthday would have consisted of take-out Chinese, construction-paper cards and Botox jokes. We're a busy family with three young children, tee-ball practice, and bills to pay.

But since September 11, turning 40 is more significant because, as I scan the list of victims identified in the newspaper, it's hard to find people who were older than I am today.

Chris would be 35 now. He wasn't my real cousin but our dads are best friends and his parents have always been "Aunt" and "Uncle" so he was my "cousin."

Because we grew up together and rarely saw each other as adults, I think of Christopher as a perpetual four-year-old boy to my eight- or nine-year-old self. Our dads were pals since childhood, and Chris and his folks spent a lot of nights with us at my parents' weekend place on the North Shore of Long Island.

He was the only little boy my sister and I knew intimately by virtue of being under the same roof. We were definitely a girly household and this young Hot Wheels connoisseur with big brown eyes was a fascinating departure from everyday routine.

Christopher was coddled by his mom, adored by his dad. His mom used to lie with him at night until he fell asleep in our unfamiliar house. If he called out after bedtime, my mother, who doted on this son she never had, would sneak him jelly sandwiches in bed to make the strange surroundings seem more friendly and fun.

I've often referred back to those days as I raise my own young sons, aged five and two. I see that little boys can be afraid of swimming in the bay and watching movies with tarantulas in them. A boy may have a special blanket he loves. Chris had "cozy." My sons have "blankie" and "gunk-gunk." A boy might have an adversarial relationship with the family cat and still love that pet.

Then a boy can grow up to be a handsome, successful businessman who gets invited to management breakfasts at the Windows on the World restaurant in the World Trade Center.

When I saw her last summer, Christopher's mom offered me his business card and said, "Call Chris, he'd love to hear from you." As I stashed the card in my bag, I remember thinking, "Oh yeah, he'd love to hear from his old, married pseudo-cousin in Westchester." I figured he was busy being a cute single guy in New York, in the prime of his life.

But when I heard the news that there'd been a cell phone call and then nothing, I reacted as a mother. I sat on my five-year-old's bed as he slept and I cried and cried.

At the memorial service for Steven, who married my sister's childhood classmate and worked at Cantor Fitzgerald, a lot of the girls from high school showed up. As we gathered in the church hall afterwards, Sarah, the class clown from 20 years ago, went outside for a smoke. She suddenly appeared in a picture window with her face against the glass. She blew with her lips on the window so that her cheeks puffed out and the smoke from her cigarette slowly billowed out of her mouth. We had to stifle a laugh because it was silly and gross and a sign that nothing had changed since high school. Except that one of us was a widow with two small children to raise on her own.

When I visited Ground Zero in October, I gasped and thought, Chris is in there. Lisa's husband, the two young dads from our church. It was so paralyzing, I forgot to say a prayer.

Of course, this sense of loss has occurred in previous generations. The young have perished in cruel numbers in the pursuit of noble causes. But we were still children during Vietnam. We came of age in peace, somehow thinking war was a thing of the past. We grew up slowly because there was no need to rush.

By September 12, we'd grown up overnight and we continue to travel down that sober and adult road. Girls like Sarah will still be able to make us crack up when we get together, only I guess we're not girls anymore.

This is 40. Comforting widows and orphans, mourning eligible bachelors. And putting away childish things.

— Susan Konig, a journalist, has just written a book, Why Animals Sleep So Close to the Road (And Other Lies I Tell My Children).


May 9, 2003 11:20 a.m.
Thanks, Mom!
Why can’t parents be more like my mother?

s Mother's Day approaches, I pause to think about how moms (and dads) these days are raising their teenagers. In a recent series of drinking-related scandals, parents have been arrested, kids suspended, and, in one notorious case, a teenager died.

It's a given that kids have to be taught responsibility — but that's tough when their parents think and act like teenagers themselves.

This week, 15 varsity baseball players from Massapequa, Long Island, were suspended from playing for the rest of the year after it was learned that they visited a strip club on a Spring Break trip to Florida. Who took them? A parent. Oh, and he bought the drinks.

Meanwhile, in the Hudson Valley, a mother was arrested for throwing an underage beer bash for her high-school-aged son and about 25 other minors. As she was hauled off, she protested that she didn't think it was illegal to let minors drink if no one was driving.

And, of course, there was the notorious case in Westchester County last year when a group of high-school students were let out of school early and went to a student's home while his parents were out. A drinking party ensued and one boy was killed when another punched him and he hit his head on the patio.

As a result of these kinds of incidents, legislation has been proposed to require all kegs to be registered. Another bill would force all bartenders to take special training. But how will these laws make kids behave?

I agree that establishments that sell alcohol have a responsibility not to sell to or serve minors, but that has always been the law. Kids have always tried to sneak into bars or charmed a clerk into selling them a six-pack, and that won't change.

Parents who condone — or even allow by their absence — an environment where drinking parties can take place are endangering scores of kids at one time. And it's sending the wrong message.

Responsible activist types like Mothers Against Drunk Driving (MADD) are undermined by their permissive contemporaries. And we're not just talking about parents who explain, "Oh, we're European so we let the kids drink wine with dinner." We're talking: "Let's have a beer bash and call all your friends." Or, "Let's get a hotel suite and have a Sweet 16 party until we're raided by the cops."

What if kids out there were under the impression that their worlds would come crashing to an end if they ever sought to host an underage drinking party in their own homes. That if they attended one because they didn't want to be called a chicken, then that might be the last thought they ever had.

Obviously, I am not condoning violence against children. The threat is not toward their mortal lives but toward their social lives. Can parents today say, "You will never ever go out unchaperoned again and you will miss every cast party, pep rally, victory party and student union meeting forever" — and mean it?

The parents who are letting this happen are either bona fide idiots whom we can't do much about, or they are trying to be their kids friends because "Hey, we drank and smoked dope and it's not fair that 'the man' is bumming our high." Which also makes them idiots.

Parents should be held accountable for the misdeeds of their children because it is their responsibility in the first place to make sure that their kids know the rules and follow them.

Basically, parents should just act like my mother. We didn't need a task force or an alcohol czar. My mother was the alcohol czar. We lived in New York City where bars on Second Avenue catered to underage high schoolers and sold them drugs as well. Was I at risk? Not with the teeny tether I was kept on until I reached college age. I had an impossibly early curfew and always had to leave before the trouble began.

No sloe gin fizz or illicit substance ever had enough appeal to overcome my fear of getting into really big trouble with my mom.

And for that, I thank her.

 

 

FalconRun.com Sponsors

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
FunClassics.com


Ready to Hang
 
 
Route 66 USA.us
The Mother Road Calls
 
 
Read the Inside and OUT-side temperatures easily from inside your room.

Great for the bedroom, kitchen or any room.
Priced right at EagleBayCommons.com
 
 
 
Magic Wadding Polish

Cleans and polishes all metals including silver, gold, brass, copper, pewter, glass, steel, aluminum and chromium.
 
 
FunClassics.com
 
 
FunClassics.com

Ready to Hang
 
 
ClassicClock.Com
 
 
FunClassics.com


Nostalgia
 
 

Feature Clock:
Giant 20" Rock n' Roll Diner

Fab 50s Diner
Clocks, Diner

 
 
FunClassics.com

Ready to Hang
 
 
FunClassics.com

Uncle Sam Cast Iron Mechanical Bank
 
 
FunClassics.com

Ready to Hang
 
 
ShopEagleBay.com

Tools for your home or office

 Priced right
 
 
Lost in The 50s

Wall Bottle Opener
 
 
ShopEagleBay.com
Tools for your home or office

 Priced right
 
 
Sports Posters
Ready to Hang



BASEBALL



BASKETBALL



GOLF



FOOTBALL



POOL


Beautifully Painted
METAL POSTERS
 
 
ClassicClock.Com

CUSTOM Neon Clocks
 
 
FunClassics.com

Ready to Hang

 

 

 
 

Providing affordable Web Hosting, Design & Publishing; Marketing & Advertising.
webmaster@FalconRun.com

  webmaster@falconrun.com 

© Copyright FalconRun.com  all rights reserved

*CAVEAT EMPTOR (LET THE BUYER BEWARE): FalconRun.com is an Internet service provided for your convenience neither assumes or accepts any responsibility of any kind, for any reason, whatsoever, regarding anything done or accessed from this site except in regard to your financial dealings DIRECTLY.  The best advise in business and personal dealings comes down to us through history from the Roman Empire: Caveat Emptor, and we pass it on to you here, always be aware and beware.  Learn about the companies you deal with and be sure of the agreements you enter into, because you are responsible for your actions and the companies that you enter into agreements with are responsible for theirs.

The  material on this website is  Copyright Material, all rights are reserved FalconRun.com