What would you do for $33,000

Ms. Hawkenson, proudly showing her ASU student ID card.

Granted, nobody wants their 18 year old daughter having live sex on camera in exchange for $2000. But, honestly, is it that big a deal?

The news sources have landed on this loopy tale about Elizabeth Hawkenson, the ASU geology student, who appeared in a video for the porn Web site Backroom Casting Couch and allegedly lost her $33,000 ASU scholarship.

Well, first of all, the whole kerfuffle about the scholarship is a hoax. Apparently there was no irate alumnus who wrote to the board of regents insisting the scholarship be revoked. The video itself; however, does exist. Ms. Hawkenson, finding herself a few thousand dollars short of tuition, (and apparently a few cards short of a full deck), made the unwise decision to appear in a “reality porn” video about a young student who innocently ends up copulating for a promise of 5 grand that never materializes. The “reality” is that Ms. Hawkenson knew exactly what she was doing and chose to have sex on camera supposedly believing that the tape’s distribution would be limited to pay per view websites.

Okay, naivete is one thing. But let’s examine the idiocy of this young woman’s choices. First of all, no matter what part of Texas you’re from, you ought to know that sex videos go viral. And if not right away, 20 years later when you actually have a family, career or husband who might really be humiliated by them. Sex on camera, nude photos, and compromising voice-mail messages all fall into the category of idiotic mistakes that even a country rube just off the turnip truck shouldn’t make. Can you say “Dr. Laura?” But there’s an even more asinine choice that Ms. Hawkenson made and that one really baffles me. At one point in the video, she proudly displays her drivers license and ASU student ID card. I’m sorry. But that takes the cake for stupidity. I mean, if you’re gonna have sex with strangers for money, at least pretend you’re from U of A, or Oregon, or USC for that matter.

Now I actually get that people sometimes do foolish things when finances are waining. I, for one, remember a time, eons ago, when a starving actor in Chicago, posed nude for a high class shoe advertisement that turned out, luckily enough, to only expose the scaly skin of a pair of crocodile leather Jimmy Choo stilettos. I was fortunate. A lot of young women aren’t.

Ms. Hawkenson is quoted in several articles saying that her dorm life has become treacherous since the viral video hit the web. No kidding. It’s gotta be rough fielding all those late night “study” invitations she’s no doubt been receiving. But what did she expect? If you’re gonna have sex on camera, you need to realize that someone is going to see that. That’s the whole bloody point of it, you dodo. I mean, they’re not capturing the act on film in order to bury it in the backyard.

I’m glad Ms. Hawkenson didn’t lose her ASU scholarship on account of her poor choices. I can even argue that it’s partly her parents fault for not finding the cash to fund tuition. She did what she had to do to make some much needed dinero. If she’d founded an internet start-up, we’d all be praising her independence and entrepreneurial spirit.

But instead, she used her God given gifts to up her bottom line (if you’ll excuse the expression). And that, my friends, is considered a no-no in our culture. But perhaps we all ought to just drop the “holier than thou” attitude and look within to see how we may have contributed to this sad scene of juvenile delinquency

Maybe there aren’t enough legitimate work-study options at ASU. Maybe sky-rocketing tuition costs for out-of-staters need to be re-evaluated. Or maybe, we all need to step back and stop reveling in the juicy details of this poor woman’s misfortune and focus on earning a few extra bucks ourselves, so that by the time our kids need to pay tuition, we’ll actually be able to cover it. I mean, given the choice, wouldn’t you rather spend a few extra years with your nose to the grindstone, so that your poverty stricken youth don’t end up hocking their wares in today’s equivalent of the world’s oldest profession?

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DWS (Driving while sharing)

Listen; your kids might talk to you

A woman I know once told me not to talk on my cell phone while driving if my kids were in the car with me. The funny thing about it was that she wasn’t cautioning me at all about safety. She had older kids than me. And she said that driving in the car was always the place where her normally reticent children shared their most intimate life stories. She learned about bullies at school, first crushes, and all kinds of fascinating personal philosophies.

Lately I’ve really been working on this. And it’s paying off in spades! Last night, for example, I learned where my ten year old plans to go to college. It’s ASU, by the way, and he plans on only living in a dorm his freshman year because he wants to have a really nice kitchen where he can cook delicious meals. “Mom, did you ever eat uncooked Ramen when you were in college?” he asked me. “I’ve heard that lots of college kids eat that.”

“No, sweetie,” I smiled. “I always made it a point to take 30 seconds and cook the noodles before eating them.” But then, recounting my earlier days, I added, “But they sure were a great value. We used to buy 10 packs for a buck. That could feed you for a week back in the day.”

After discussing his future menu selections, we moved on to intermarriage; he thought it was not the right choice for him since he wants to raise his kids Jewish. Then he told me about a girl who wasn’t terribly kind in his class, his future career aspirations, what his perfect wife would be like, and how disgusting the egg frittata at school was that day.

It was a mixed bag of somewhat scattered thoughts, yearnings, and beliefs. On the more banal matters, I needed to read between the lines and ferret out the deeper truths that lurked within his complex psyche. Like his obsession with how he would ever be able to pay for auto insurance. It reminded me how much of a planner he is and how uncomfortable he is with uncertainty. His focus on having the consummate spouse represented his ever-growing anxiety around making mistakes; a topic we surely need to raise next week at the talking doctor.

I learned an inordinate amount. And by the time we got home, I felt certain that I knew him better. The mere 10 mile trip that could’ve easily been occupied with a phone call to my mom or a quick voicemail message to a friend, had served as a safe haven for a deep and meaningful dialogue. His off-handed sharing about the everyday facts of his life, his worries and future aspirations, had served to open a portal into his soul and I was deeply grateful for having been granted access to this private sanctum.

I’m not deluded enough to think that this kind of sharing will go on forever. I’m painfully aware of what happens to heart-sleeved little boys who all too often grow into “strong, silent” young men. But for now, I’ll stay off the cell phone. I’ll keep asking the questions. And I’ll keep listening, hard, for the truth behind the words, the essence beneath the answers. Because after all, is there anything more important than that?

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I hate Mario Kart!

It’s not the typical mom against video outrage that a plethora of parents express every day in this country. I don’t really mind that my kids enjoy it. Nor do I feel that it’s rotting their brains, leading them towards obesity or peppering their psyches with too many images of death and destruction. I hate it because it’s not fun.

Frankly, it makes me tense. Every time I try to play it I become both anxious and aggressive at the same time. My ugly competitive spirit rears its head. I begin cursing like an old sea dog. And within 30 seconds of the first race I start sweating like Albert Brooks in “Broadcast News.”

“Get away from the tv!” I scream as my innocent children try to point out the arrows on the track that I can actually see but can’t seem to follow. “Here, mommy!” they shout in helpful unison. “Don’t talk to me! I see them.” I shriek like a cornered hyena.

Naturally I come in last nearly every time I play. I wouldn’t care about that except my kids seem so deeply disappointed in my failure. “Don’t worry, mommy. You’ll get better,” they try to sound encouraging. But I can see the sadness in their droopy eyes. Again I’ve let them down. Dejected, I turn the wheel back over to them and make my way to the laundry room to fold yet another load of laundry. Ah yes, this is where I belong; here’s something I’m good at.

“So why play it?” I’m sure you’re asking. Because I don’t want to lose my children. Now I realize this may sound ridiculous to some of you. But where does it stop? If I don’t share their interest in Mario Kart, what’s next? I don’t care about the NCAA championship. Okay, no harm there. I’m not really interested in Harry Potter. That’s fair. But do you see where this is leading? Suddenly, I can’t stand their music, don’t like their friends, don’t know anything about what interests them. They become goth, start smoking cigarettes to be cool, go off to college, get a slew of body piercings, bad grades, and stds and I have only myself to blame.

No. I’m not willing to lose them. I will learn how to play Mario Kart. I will not give up because it’s an inane game that makes me dizzy, depressed and nervous. I will practice while they’re at school until I earn a damn medal. I will make them proud of their mommy. I will learn how to throw mushrooms and banana peels and make everyone else small. I will not give in to my inner adult.

I’m actually serious about this. I truly believe that we, as parents, have to stay in tune with the things that matter to our kids. I see so many families that just drift apart because parents are too busy doing their own thing to pay attention to the hobbies and interests of their children. It’s not dissimilar to any relationship you want to keep vibrant and strong. I try to pay attention to the things my husband cares about. I read the business news, listen to political talk shows, watch which wines are earning a perfect Parker 100. Why wouldn’t I do the same for my boys?

Sure it’s one more thing on my “to do” list. But the way I look at it, who can’t take a little time out of their day to spend a few minutes palling around with Donkey Kong, Koopa Troopa, and Wario? Besides, if I get really good at it, I’m hoping to learn how to splat ink over all those obnoxious 101 drivers who cut me off when I’m trying to merge onto the 51 on our way to school in the morning.