Fairness

How often do you hear people, grownups and kids alike, complaining that something isn't fair?  And you want to scream out that cliche parenting response, "life's not fair."  What does that really mean though?  Can fairness be measured?  It's like talking about moral values in decision making.  How do you tell a right from a wrong?  To some extent the answer demands knowledge on the part of the decision maker.  If it is against the law to drive while talking on your cell phone without a hands free device, why do you do it?  Does the fact that so many people break that law make it acceptable?  Do we forget it's against the law?  No.  We choose to do the wrong thing because we make a moral judgement that it is a minor infraction.  Yet, it's still wrong.

Fairness works much in that way.  Why does one kid get ten M&Ms in his fun-size halloween bag and another kid gets twelve.  "It's not fair," the kids with ten candies will say.  Then some quick math reveals that if the kid with twelve candies gives one to the kid with ten they will both have eleven.  Has fairness been achieved?  Or is it some evil plot at the assembly line of M&M Mars Co.?  Another cliche parenting phrase creeps out of your mouth: "You get what you get and you don't throw a fit."  Huh?  So fairness is acceptance of life's inequities?  Maybe so.

All of the examples thus far are trivial which makes the discussion much less complex.  However, I often think back to my volunteer work with FOCUS (Families of Children Under Stress) in Atlanta, GA. FOCUS provides emotional, informational, and physical support to parents of children with disabilities or with ongoing medical needs. FOCUS families deal with a variety of developmental delays, including rare syndromes, cerebral palsy, heart problems, immune deficiencies, and neurological involvement.  FOCUS provides a network of parents who share common experiences with each other. FOCUS families provide each other with a sense of community, sharing the joys and frustrations of parenting a child with extra-special needs.

This voluntary work was incredibly rewarding to me and I was honored to serve in any capacity.  It was at this same time that my wife became pregnant with our first child.  I remember thinking that we were uniquely qualified to handle anything life threw at us even if it meant a child with special needs.  My wife and I would look at each other and reaffirm our commitment to parenting no matter the circumstance.  Now that I see how hard it is to raise children without special needs, I beat myself up for ever thinking I was "qualified" to handle a special needs child.  The parents of these children are superheroes.  They didn't qualify nor did they ask to be extraordinary parents under extraordinary stresses.  And when they are not donning a cape and moving mountains for their offspring, they are tired and vulnerable and anxious.  That is their reality.  And when they say, "it's not fair," the stakes are a little different.

Today I read a story about a family that has been selling a little boy's monster drawings on Etsy to pay for his leukemia treatments.  The family had already run through their savings and they were in danger of losing their home despite having health insurance.  The mother left her job with a newborn.  The copays were adding up.  The husband was losing wages because he chose to hold his son's hand during a spinal tap rather than report to work.  To them I nod and say, "life's not fair."  And yet, this story has a uniquely happy ending.  2,500 people bought this young man's monster drawings for $12 each totalling $30,000 and the orders keep coming from all over the world.  [Update: His blog indicates the number of orders is now 4,000]  Better yet, young Aiden's particular type of cancer is more than 90% curable and doctors are hopeful that the treatments are working.  You can read the story here.

In this context of genetic, viral and traumatic inequality I must concede that fairness is simply absent.  But it is the hope, the love, the generosity, and the endurance of the human spirit that can, on occasion, triumph over adversity.  And I hope to remind myself of this fact regularly.  To the child missing an extra M&M I say, be thankful.