DEAR ABBY: Recently my son entered a derby car race at his Cub Scout meeting. He left the house proud of the derby car he fashioned from a block of wood. My husband had shown him how to use the proper tools, to sand and paint the car -- but it was our son's design.
When my son and husband arrived at the race track, it was obvious many of the fathers had done far more than supervise the making of the derby cars. In fact, many of the fathers bragged about how they had designed, cut and painted their sons' cars -- even going so far as adding "hidden" weights so they would go faster! One of the youngest boys in the pack won a huge trophy for "best in show." His car was elaborately carved and decorated far beyond his capabilities.
We told our son he should be proud of his car because he had followed instructions and created it himself. Unfortunately, some of the other boys made our son feel their dads loved them more because they had made prettier, faster cars for them.
Abby, I am afraid this is another example of parents reliving their youth at the expense of their children. The fathers should never have taken over this project. What did these boys learn? That it's OK to cheat? I'd love to see this addressed because I know it happens all over the country. -- PROUD MOM IN OHIO
DEAR PROUD MOM: You are describing parents who are determined to make sure their children succeed even if it means cutting a few corners. And you're absolutely right -- I doubt that a trophy a child hasn't earned and knows isn't deserved will make him or her feel like a winner. The prize becomes meaningless. The child's abilities are diminished, and the youngster is left feeling that he or she can't perform.
DEAR ABBY: I'm enclosing a poem I wrote after visiting Auschwitz. I hope you will print it in your column on April 19, Holocaust Remembrance Day. -- TAWNYSHA LYNCH
DEAR TAWNYSHA: I'm pleased to print your poem as a tribute to the many souls who have been sacrified over the centuries because of man's inhumanity to man.
NEVER FORGET by Tawnysha Lynch
(Excerpted from "Remembrance," copyright 2001)
I may have died long ago,
But I am not gone.
My body may rest among thousands,
But I still exist.
When you see this camp before you,
You see where I breathed my last.
When you look at the ground,
You see my footprints.
As you walk upon this soil,
You step over my bones.
When you see old photographs,
My eyes look at yours.
When you hear the wind whisper,
You are hearing my voice.
When your eyes brim with tears,
It is me tugging your heart.
"Never forget," I whisper to you
And you hear my desperate words.
I may not be alive today,
But in your heart, I still live.
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