The Pre-teen, the Pop Princess, and the Green Beret

. . . and what they taught me about courage. (A repost from the archives)

I’ve always beena slow learner. I have no idea why. Or how to fix it. But I have to do things three times to remember them. In college I would read through the notes/textbook, rewrite the facts onto index cards, then read them aloud. If I put in the time, I got an A. If I didn’t, I failed. Over the years I’ve come to realize that this discipline was also a way to deal with the knot of anxiety that lives in the deepest pit of my stomach–aka FEAR.

So when I saw Bob Mayer’s book “Warrior Writer: From Writer to Published Author” at this year’s RWA National Conference in NYC, I bought it. Since he’s a West Point graduate and a Green Beret, I count on his no-nonsense approach to facing–and overcoming–fear. But what I didn’t expect was his chapter on Courage. On page 110 Mr. Mayer writes, “Courage is . . . the strength in the face of pain or grief.” Knowing I was going home to a difficult situation, I wrote this quotation down and slipped it into my wallet.

Like me, my eleven-year old daughter has scoliosis. A few days after I got home from New York, she was strapped into a Boston Back Brace which she has to wear 23 hours a day for 2-4 years. If this brace doesn’t correct the curvature in her spine, she’s facing surgery where they put metal rods in her back. As a child, I lived in fear of that surgery. And it broke my heart to see my daughter facing about the same thing. So, to cheer her up, I bought tickets to the Miranda Cosgrove “Dancing Crazy” concert for her and her best friend. For those who don’t have pre-teen daughters, Miranda Cosgrove has a TV show on Nickelodeon called iCarly. She plays a teenager with her own internet web program . . . who also attends high school.

For an entire month, my daughter counted down the days while dancing around the house to the iCarly theme song, much to her twin brother’s disgust, until the time arrived. The theater brimmed with girls ranging in age from 5-12 years in pink glittery T-shirts. And unlike concerts in the olden days ( like last year), photographs, texts, tweets were encouraged, with hashtags flashed up on jumbo screens over the stage. Despite the triple-digit heat index, the high-pitch squeal factor was enough to bring down the International Space Station.

But I didn’t care because my daughter, for the first time in weeks, danced down the aisle to our seats in her familiar, confident way. A way I hadn’t seen since the brace had become part of our family. I realized then that heaviness in my heart wasn’t just sadness on my daughter’s behalf, but grief on my own. Without the girls noticing, I pulled out the tiny slip of paper and rewrote Mr. Mayer’s words into my purse-sized moleskin notebook. 

Courage is the strength in the face of pain or grief. I needed to remember this.

Then the show started, and Ms. Cosgrove shattered my cynical expectations of Pop Princesses. Ms. Cosgrove, barely 18 years old herself, came out on stage in a flurry of lights and sequins. With un-swavering confidence, she stated her single goal. She was here to be with her girls.

There was no pretense of being a Hollywood actress, a rising singing star, or a model. Her dresses–which she changed frequently to the delight of her girls–were modest and glittery. Her lyrics were sweet and clean. And her attention was solely on what her girls wanted–the songs, the music videos, and personal stories about her life. But what struck me most was she not only knew what her girls wanted, but what her girls needed.  She knew that the 5-6 year olds would need frequent breaks and worked them into the show, and that the older girls needed to hear they were strong, smart and beautiful–by someone other than their moms. Most of all, she knew her girls needed her to respect them. You see, 13-17 year old girls think Miranda Cosgrove is for babies.

For weeks before the concert, my daughter had been teased by her older friends. Although it broke my heart that girls she’d had known since Kindergarten were acting this way, I was powerless to stop it. But I was proud of how well she ignored their jabs. I honestly don’t remember if I had her confidence at that age.

Suddenly, my daughter gave me a hug and screamed, “I’m so glad I came!”

I, being the ever-worried mother, said, “Even if you’re going to be teased?”

With her serious frown, she pulled my head down to yell in my ear, “Mom, if Miranda Cosgrove can believe in me, then denying that I love her music makes me a coward. And I can’t do that to her. Even if the teasing hurts.” Then, as if she’d said nothing at all, she closed her eyes and went back to “Dancing Crazy”.

While I, being the ever-worried-but-hopefully-wiser-mother whispered, Courage is the strength in the face of pain or grief. Three times. It always takes me three times to remember. But even if I forget, at least now I have my daughter, her Pop Princess, and a Green Beret to remind me. So, are you a slow learner too? Or am I the only one?

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