My mother used to tell my three siblings and me to mind our own beeswax. She said it when we tattled; she said it when we eavesdropped on a grown-up conversation; she said it after we asked one too many pointless questions.
It stuck. I have made a good life for myself by minding my own beeswax. Minding my own beeswax meant putting my nose to the grindstone and paying my own way through college when most of my peers were on their parents’ dole. It meant following a math track and choosing engineering as a profession at a time when the field was only 10 percent female. It meant finding a way to pursue career changes and advancement opportunities even as I raised my family, regardless of the paths other moms may have chosen.
Now that I’m grown, “Mind your own beeswax” is an imperative that as long as we all stay within the law, I will let others live their lives and make their own decisions, while I live my life and make mine.
I have never considered myself qualified to make decisions on behalf of other competent grownups. Assuming that my way to do things is the only way to do things would be very narrow-minded of me.
If you don’t believe in abortion, then don’t have one. Period. Choose never to have an abortion; teach your children that abortion is wrong; attend church with like-minded individuals.
Under current laws, each and every one of us is free to choose for ourselves. Isn’t it amazing that all the discussion, debate, time, effort, and political hot air over the abortion issue stem from the simple fact that those who oppose abortion so publicly are working to oppose it for others? Mind your own beeswax.
For that matter, if a couple of men come out of the closet, decide to marry, and then move into the house next door to me, that’s fine. I welcome my new neighbors and I wish them a very nice life.
At the risk of promoting a stereotype, my greatest challenge might be making sure I keep my yard and my house as lovely as theirs.
Religious conservatives claim that the Bible says “gay is wrong.” Okay, for the sake of argument only, I’ll bite. But doesn’t the Bible also tell us very specifically how to treat people we consider to be “wrong”?
How about, “Love the sinner, not the sin.” “Turn the other cheek.” “Love thy neighbor as thyself” (my pastor says that’s a commandment, not a suggestion!) And my favorite scripture, “Judge not, lest ye be judged.” Mind your own beeswax, indeed.
I have listened to quite a bit of discussion about gay unions “destroying the sanctity of marriage.” With a heterosexual divorce rate hovering around 40 percent for first marriages and 60 percent for second marriages in the United States, it doesn’t appear to be the homosexuals who are destroying the sanctity of marriage.
And if that gay couple living next door decides to foster or adopt children, God bless them all. As a parent of two teenagers and a 10-year-old, I have seen first-hand over many years the damage some heterosexual parents inflict upon their own kids, and let’s just say, moms and dads, we don’t exactly own bragging rights.
I have witnessed countless children neglected, abused, or kicked out of their homes, sometimes for no better reason than because a mom and her new boyfriend want some private time. I have opened my home to these children on numerous occasions, offering a hot meal and a pat on the back while my heart quietly breaks.
Perhaps instead of wasting time criticizing gay adults who have love in their hearts and space in their homes, we could all benefit by minding our own business and turning our attentions to something more positive, like volunteering in our communities or helping in our own children’s schools.
Now I’m on a roll. A terminal patient who decides that she is ready to enlist help from someone knowledgeable and skilled in the principals of dying with dignity most certainly does not need my input.
I can’t imagine a more personal decision than choosing the terms and conditions of one’s own end on this earth. Whether she opts for assistance from a doctor, a preacher, a family member, or Jack Kevorkian himself, her decisions are deeply personal and involve her faith and her family. Definitely none of my beeswax.
The beat goes on. Prayer in public schools? We should, of course, assure a moment of silence to allow each and every child to either worship or contemplate their day as they and their parents see fit. Far be it for me to impose my own Christian prayer on a roomful of children of virtually every faith and nationality. I’m just not that needy.
Should we pass laws requiring motorcyclists to wear helmets? No, but we should pass laws requiring them to pay for their own injuries. Viagra? Knock yourselves out, guys, just don’t ask me to buy it for you. Want to buy lottery tickets? Good luck beating those odds. Stem cell research is supported by virtually every family affected by Alzheimer’s, Parkinson’s, diabetes, and more. Those of us who are fortunate to be unaffected by the ravages of these diseases would do well to close our mouths and spend our energies breathing a simple prayer of thanks for our own good health.
Yes, I am way out there. Really extreme. And very busy minding my own beeswax. My mother would be proud.
Kim Learnard
Peachtree City, Ga.