M + K, Bff’s

bowl of pretty rocks, collectionMy 20-year-old niece suffers from the affliction commonly called Down Syndrome. She functions on a high level and even participated in the cheer-leading squad in her public school. She loves collecting things and has a large collection of horse statues and an enormous collection of pretty rocks.

Recently she was a bride’s maid in my brother’s wedding. She basked in every minute, and although she is a funny trickster, during the rehearsal she agreed to the importance of being sober-minded during the actual holy occasion.

So many were so happy for her.

The other bride’s maid was a niece of the bride, a young lady about the same height and build as my niece, but only ten years old. The two young maids bonded instantly and became fast friends. Dressed and coiffed alike, pressed into the same elegant lady mold, choreographed, required to wait and be quiet together, how could they have become anything but fast friends?

Several weeks have passed since that wedding, since that time of sweet, girlish friendship, but my niece has continued remembering her new friend, as she does all friends. She has spoken often of the girl, how they have so much in common, how they both love that their dresses were “twirlable”, how happy she is to have made a new friend.

We all wondered if the other niece would remember her back. Heartbreak between girlfriends is too common these days, among girls who see each other often, let alone girls who met once and will not often see each other again. We waited . . .

My niece received a wrapped package in the mail, yesterday, and it was given to her while we were celebrating several happy family occasions at a restaurant.

The gift included a bff card! Of course!

But the simple perfection of the contents of the package brought tears to my eyes.

Somewhere in this country lives a sweet, ten-year-old girl who understands gifting: My niece carefully unwrapped the heavy and rattling package to reveal a pretty dish of my niece’s favorite color, purple.

The perfect gift between friends: a bowl of prety rocks.And in it? Pretty rocks.

Hand-selected and washed spotless.

For her collection, of course.


Have You Ever Been Kidnapped?

When someone takes a child away from his parents against their will, without any provocation, what do we call it?

Kidnapping, of course. Right?

So why are we okay with the government taking our children away from us and locking them into unarmed-police-state type institutions?

Oh, yes, we did vote, long ago, for free, compulsory education. We overlooked the fact that “compulsory” is not free.

Now we see.

Good has come from the schools of long ago, including the intended results that all US citizens enjoy a common language and all voters be well-educated.

The big idea, that all voters be well-educated is slipping away, fast.

As is the common language that made us so strong.

Although I tend to reminisce a lot about the good ol’ days, I must realize we are not there, anymore. The idea of the states controlling their own educational systems was good, but is fading as Uberama takes over.

These days have big troubles that have stemmed from the good ol’ days when folks trusted so much, they even forgot what they learned in school and began trusting the government. For some reason, they did not know that government of the people, by the people, and for the people would not be what we would get from an education that is of, by, and for the government.

Instead, we now have the government killing as many babies as it can, then appropriating more and more money for brainwashing the few who remain.

As our government attacks us more every day, we need to hug our children ever closer to our sides, like the targets of kidnapping they have become.

Unhappy child.


What can I say? It was free. Now it’s gone. And…

“Although I tend to reminisce a lot about the good ol’ days, I must realize we are not there, anymore.”

Go home.

Smarter than a worm? Hmmm?


Earthworms! (Photo credit: goosmurf)

My daughter-in-law is an avid fisher.

One day, I watched her teaching her three-year-old how to find earthworms. She was about to show him the most exciting thing he had ever seen.

But she wants to teach him to come to her without fanfare. So, in a normal tone of voice, she told my grandson to come to her.

He always wonders what Mom has for him, regardless of what it appears to be and regardless of her tone when she calls.

Outward appearances were unexciting that morning. Mom wanted him to look at dead leaves.

What he found, though, was a thrill—several worms lived under that debris and squirmed to evade exposure.

Mom picked up a worm and handed it to him. Although he did not enjoy touching it, I noticed a couple of times that day, he sidled over to that leafy area and scuffed his shoe through it, as Mom had done, and examined the ground.

Lesson learned.

Worms are smart enough to set up housekeeping in some type of shelter. They are not too particular, but it must meet their food and water needs. Although they crawl out when they think conditions are safe, they spend most of their lives hidden. Their secluded world helps them thrive.

Maybe we can learn from the worms.

We set up our homes to help us thrive. We choose colors with care and arrange furnishings according to plans. Our curtains help us adjust the lighting, as do our lamps. The thermostat reflects not only our need for comfort, but also our beliefs about saving energy. We provide scented candles. We stock the pantry and closets.

Then do we spend most of our lives elsewhere?

After establishing the  best environment for us, do we ship our children to a place that is not cozy? Do we drop them off where the ambience ranges from putrid to sterile to inane? Do we force them to forgo candlelight for the blaze of the fluorescent tube?

And do they thrive? I mean, do they grow to be the best they could possibly be?

And how can we know?

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