Tag Archives: society

Away

 

A child sleeps softly

Her dreams intact

Tragedy and fear

Just a whisper away.

 

But darkness embraces

This small little soul

It hides her, protects her

Keeps monsters away.

 

Too soon there is dawn

And the new light of day

The sleeping child wakes

To a world far away.

 

We owe this young one

A life of her own

Filled with the wonders

Not far away

 

We work and we pray

Please Lord make it so

A beautiful new world

Please show us the way

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What are we teaching our children?

 

 

A few days ago I was waiting to cross the street at a crosswalk. The ‘do not cross light’ was lit so I waited where I was. I noticed a young woman and a child across the street. The adult took the hand of the child, looked both ways and stepped into street. The two crossed unharmed but I wondered what that adult was teaching that child. “It doesn’t matter what the rules are, do what you want.” ?????

Perhaps I’m getting persnickety in my old-age but I take great delight in following the Little Rules. If the crosswalk says ‘do not cross’, I don’t cross. It doesn’t cost me anything and I think it shows others that the rules are there for a reason, let’s abide by them

Children learn by example. I’ve heard people say; “Do what I say, don’t do what I do”. Children are like little sponges, they soak up what they see and they mimic it. Statistics show that children growing up in homes of domestic violence tend to perpetuate that violence. What they see, becomes the norm.

When I was younger my mother and I were doing some Saturday shopping. We had quite a few parcels and we were storing them in the car when my mother realized that she had a pair of pantyhose in her hand that she hadn’t paid for. We were just about to get in the car when she said she would be right back. We were quite a distance from the shop but my mother walked that $2 pair pantyhose back into the store and paid for them. Now that’s a good lesson.

I have friends that brag about how they get away with things. Cheating on their income tax is a game to them and they’re proud of themselves. I willingly pay my taxes. The money I give the government pays for a lot of stuff I take for granted. They don’t always do such a great job on things but there are a lot of benefits in my life that I wouldn’t have without my government. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

Now allow me to rant a little about television. I watch television. There, I admitted it in public. My primary source of entertainment is the idiot box. I enjoy cooking shows and documentaries on animals. I enjoy movies, comedy, drama and even action films. I enjoy some primetime network series. But I do wonder about what our children are getting from television. When I was a child my parents watched television with me and explained things to me. I understood that it was fake. It was for entertainment purposes and I shouldn’t think it was real. They also wanted me to understand that when someone got hit in real life it hurt. No, my parents never beat me. I got a spanking when I deserved it. I have no qualms about that.

I worry when I see people in authority condoning violence or hatred. Our kids see that and they believe it. I do not have any children. But I believe I am as much responsible for the children around me as if I were a parent. We live in a global village and we are responsible for each other. But today it doesn’t always feel like it.

 

 

Days of Rhyme and Reason

 

There are more than 7 billion people in the world. I believe there are more than 7 billion, billion stories to be told. Some people are masterful with the written word. Some stories can only be properly told orally or visually. Sometimes that story takes generations to find a conclusion. And sometimes they never do.

My mother used to say that she was not artistic. She felt that she couldn’t paint or write stories. And yet my mother’s story was told through her children. And even though she is gone, her story lives on. I happen to think it is a wonderful story. Especially the way it intertwines with mine.

My story does include paintings that have evolved as I have evolved. My story also includes writing. The very first poem that I ever wrote was:

Eyes like a Hawk

Ears like a fox

Legs like a deer

To run through the year

I may have been eight when I wrote this. But I was proud of it. And so were my parents. They encouraged me. But my angst got in the way and I didn’t write again for many decades. My mother’s father wrote poetry during World War I. We found the originals a few years ago. I thought they were quite spectacular but then I’m probably biased. He was my grandfather!

My brother and I both paint and we both write. Our forms are quite different. My sister doesn’t paint or write but she is an incredible party planner. We all have our strengths. And we all tell our story differently and to different people. It’s like bumblebees moving from blossom to blossom to pollinate. They deposit something and they take something away from each encounter. I guess you could say they spread the love. Our stories interact with others and in doing so becomes part of their story and theirs with ours.

We need each other to survive but it is our individuality that ensures that survival. The problem is that there are some people who don’t quite understand. As I have said in the past the ‘big picture’ is a mosaic made up of a lot of ‘little pictures’. And there are more than 7 billion of them. I wonder how many it would be if we were to count the stories of those who have gone.

As long as we remember those in our past they will live on. Their story will not die. Now is that not a form of immortality?