There really is so much to write about, as parts of the world seem to be falling apart, while parts go blithely along, seemingly unaffected, even though they too are being corrupted.
Having a warm, round, large cheeked, snugly little thing resting peacefully between my shoulder and my neck not only takes a lot of time away from blogging, but puts everything in a new perspective. Watching the formation of one's own next generation makes me sad about how little really changes in the relationships between states, and between individuals. Just when I reach the stage where it all seems like a performance piece that is done solely for my entertainment, I realize that this little lump in my arms has a good chance to be here at the turning of the next century, and that will be long after Medicare, Social Security, and Afghanistan have used up all of the available money. There is no certainty that any of those problems, as well as what to do about energy or the air we breathe, will be settled by then. The solutions our generation seems to come up with has been to make a lot of noise, have blustering confrontations, often using guided bombs or suicide bombers, or just radio and TV rhetoric, and then actually do absolutely nothing. We do seem to be able to blame the Democrats, Republicans, Koreans, Chinese, Palestinians, Israelis, Iranians, Muslims, Jews, Irish, Swedish women who consent to sex and then change their mind. Wki-leakers, Wike-pee-ers, the rich, and the poor.
Of course, all of the above are to blame, but no one seems to want to be part of a solution.
Handing all of this off to this little pink lump does not seem to be the way I would like to be remembered, especially if in seventy years she is left to breathe through a mask and shift through the rubble. But my standing on the street corner yelling as loud as I can will not really effect much change, as those places are already full, as are most of the airwaves and and millions of virtual bullhorns.
The best I can do for now is to give her comfort, make sure she knows she is loved, and make sure she learns the value of peace, love and understanding. She also needs to know how to work hard, and have fun.
But right now, when it's my turn, I will hold her so that her mother can take a shower and her father can sleep.
1 comment:
Amen. Nature has its ways of making sure there's a next generation and I'm so glad. I'll always remember the quiet days of just sitting and rocking our little grandsons. All too soon they became big boys, age 8 and 2.
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