Two full pages of this morning's newspaper were filled with smiling 10-year old faces.  Alongside were their answers to the question: What will life be like in the future?

Some of the answers were funny and optimistic. One boy  predicted his Dad would be president, and he would be vice president. Another said he thought about drones delivering everything. Asked 'what would you have delivered?'  He said -  'Pizza.'  An ocean loving girl would have a floating house, with a slide to go down and a trampoline to go up. There were quite a few thoughtful responses about the environment and kindness.  

Other answers were more complex.  One girl said she thought Mount Rushmore was going to fall down. Because, she said,  'someone's going to bomb it or something.'  A boy said 'They might pay people to go to space because the population is so big there might not be enough room.'   Others predicted: There's bound to be another war.  AI will mostly replace people.  Houses will be made of metal with a lockdown button, so if someone breaks in they will be trapped. 

These are 10 year olds.  Be honest.  At their age what would you have predicted?

As a 10-year old, I lived in England. World War II was raging.  History indicates no-one  asked our opinion on anything.  We were told -  'This is how it is right now.  Things will get back to normal.' Our elders decided filling 10-year old minds with what was happening, and what might happen was too much for undeveloped minds.  

Like most adults, I do worry about our children's futures. Still, acknowledging that awareness is different than fear, I worry we might be emphasizing fear over possibility. There's a quote lurking around my desk from Don Quixote -  it says

"Madness (fear) is seeing things as they are and not as they might be."  

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I saw the words 'she grew up poor' and thought - who are they talking about?  Surely not me

We grew up rich in every way that matters.   Great parents. Never hungry. Never without a home.

Loved. Never molly-coddled.  Music. Stories. Dancing.  Reading. Consequences. Arguing.  Sharing.

Working.  Sports. Winning. Losing. Responsibility.  Appreciation. Truth. Friends. Protecting...and the list goes on.

The list does not include luxuries.  It does not include extras.  It does not include eating 'out.'  Truth is - we had so much more we never missed

those treats.

Those who did not have any of these experiences were, indeed, poor.  As for the rest of us  - as one  sage said : True wealth is the ability to live a meaningul life.

Enjoy the richness of your day.  

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How lucky …

I recently saw a quote that made me think deeply. It said How lucky I am to have someone who makes it hard saying Goodbye.

Having just said Goodbye to someone I love it confirmed for me – yes, I am lucky. Very lucky. How many people go through life without this kind of caring? More than we can imagine.

Another quote, in the same letter, said: Bad things happen. That does not make it a bad life.

Sometimes just a few of the right words at the right time can open the right stream of thought.

My thoughts: Those of us who have good families, good friends, and a good life … we might tell ourselves every day, 'How lucky I am.” And then we might ask ourselves … how can I share my good fortune?

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Quite a few years ago.  Back when dreamers were thought to be avoiding working.  My son announced to me 'Mom,

you are too wrapped up in reality.'

Ever ready for a discussion - some call it argument - my response was:  'We live in the real world.  No getting around it.'

Then came advice from this creative dreamer.  Take a break.  Think about the impossible.  Think like a squirrel. Just 

let your mind wander without signals.

Imagine that.  Imagine - period.  Here is the young man who, as a kindergartner, ​worried his teachers because he would

not 'draw inside the lines.'  They ​t​hought he had a vision problem.  Turns out he had vision.

​M​y attempt at developing a wandering mind has ​not been 100% successful. 

The real world is still real.  The side trips help me stay tuned to possibilities.

​Conform or create.  Slog on or dream a while. We get to decide.

See you on the wandering road. It is not crowded.

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America.  My home sweet home.  No matter how. No matter when.

I was born in Chicago.  My parents were Irish and English immigrants. We returned to England in the 1930's during the deep depression. My dual citizenship - especially during WWII in England - I wore like a badge of honor.  From the earliest thinking years; the goal was to return to my home.

Finally, came the day.  In the 1950's keeping both citizenships was not an option. And so, at age 18 in the American Embassy in Manchester, England I put my hand on the Bible, swore allegiance to the United States of  America, and renounced the Crown and all its rights. I could not imagine why my English mother was crying.

Today - new citizens do not have to renounced their current country.  They can keep allegiance to both.  And that's a good thing.

I have never regretted my decision to become an American. America and its people have filled every dream and expectation. I've tried to be as good to it as it has been to me.

Over the years I've thought often of that day in the American Embassy. I know now that If one of my children denounced their country, this country, I would not cry -- I would leap across the room and snatch the Bible. Fortunately I had unselfish parents with foresight.

So, Happy Birthday America . Long may you reign -  ready to welcome the huddled masses - young and old, rich and poor, learned and those eager to learn.  

From one you welcomed so many years ago - thank you.

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My niece recently shared a quote by Rumi that goes  back to the 13th Century.   Out beyond the ideas of right doing and wrongdoing there is a field - I'll meet you there.

So simple.  So difficult.  

It occured to me that during  times rife with discord and disagreements this field would be worth finding.  Worth visiting.  Worth meeting an adversary or friend there. 

Flash  - he was not referring to grassy fields.  He was talking about the hardest field to access - our brain.  The field where battles about who and what is

right or wrong are fought.  

Not sure I'm ready yet.  Some suggest I am a 'bit' opinionated.  Still, a brief stint in that field might help with some topics.  Wrong? Right? Meet me there?

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The day before my actual birthday this month, I received a happy email of congratulations.
 

Of course, I was pleased. A day early? My mind said...Don't rush this aging thing.
 

Still, I said to myself ... Done the right way - which I am still trying to figure out - aging has some advantages.
 

Think about discounts at certain grocery stores on certain days - providing you can remember which days and which stores.
 

People are nicer to you because they no longer see you as competition.
 

Your clothes are coming back into fashion and they still look good. At least you think so,
 

Who cares what anyone else thinks?
 

You can put your priorities at the top without apologizing. You are grateful for what used to be ordinary.
 

Most days the advantages outweigh the disadvantages. The disadvantages I refuse to discuss.
 

So I'll enjoy the happy early greetings, and the 'do you remember' notes that come late.
 

Together they make any age a good age to be alive.  Enjoy.

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I just enjoyed what, for  me, was a perfect weekend.
 

Saturday night I attended Veteran Bridge Home's Annual Salute.  The speaker, General Darren McDew, USAF, Retired, eloquently reminded us how sharing, caring, friendships, family, and even grief, make us stronger.
 

The audience was filled with Veterans of all ranks, all ages, all branches, all races, and all genders.  The comoraderie was contagious. We were all gathered under the same flag, for the same reason.  We were there to ensure the Military men and women, who have served our country, retain the pride and support they have earned. 
 

Those gathered did not let the team down.  My friends and I left the Salute on an exuberant high.
 

Sunday I had playtime with my 22-month old great grand twins (girl and boy).   The Playground was action packed.
 

Lots of happy whoops.  Moms and Dads on alert.
 

After playtime we went to a close-by family friendly restaurant.  Interesting how, when your offspring are part of the noisy, constantly in motion gaggle of youngsters it looks more like fun than an aggravation.
 

It was a weekend filled hope.  A glimpse at how good and generous peoople are.  Of realizing our good fortune .  And a promise , as suggested by Theodore Roosevelt ..to do the best we can, with what we have, where we are, right now.
 

Our future and how it looks and feels matters.
 

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Yes, it is VeteranS - My bad typo.

Link for more: veteransbridgehome.org

Friends and I were talking recently, well 'bemoaning' might be a better description, about the word hate. 

We agreed with the age-old saying children are not born hating.  And we pondered - what happens to these little ones ?

Most agreed hate is learned. We each had memories of how we observed it. Mine was from growing up in England

during WWII. We had a prisoner of war camp, not too far from our home. When the prisoners were on 

outdoor breaks in the yards - locals would gather and hurl hateful insults, threats, sometimes rocks at them.

Our mother looked at us - and said - 'DO NOT EVER let me see you doing that. Each one of those young men is some 

mother's son.'  You can help them. Or you can hate them. You can't do both. A hard lesson to follow.

It's interesting that one derivation of the word hate comes from Pro-Germanic hatajan. It means to grieve or to suffer. 

Seems this meaning, which is so accurate, has lost its way.  Hate does cause grief and suffering for the hater and the hated.

Hate or help. You can't do both.

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