1) Picture the scene. Daisy is in the kitchen with black high heeled shoes, black fish net stockings, a black mini skirt, and a spaghetti strapped black blouse with one of the straps hanging off the shoulder. She has a, yes you guessed it, a black apron on and is leaning her back against the counter facing the stairs. I descend the stairs and look to my left to see her. Her hair is down, streaming over her cheeks, and she is licking a spoon with black melted fudge.
“What would you like for dinner?” She whispers.
“How about a hot steaming plate of you.” I say. She throws her head back and laughs. She stops suddenly only to lower her head down and stare at me with eyes that penetrate my very soul. That’s right. I said penetrate. She growls and I become excited but frightened. She throws the spoonful of hot fudge on my bare chest.
I smile. “That’s downright filthy.”
“I know.”
That is what I imagine dinner time to be. Instead, Daisy yells upstairs, “What do you want for dinner?”
“A hot steaming plate of you!” I yell back.
(Pause)
“I think Fire just pooped his pants.”
2) Speaking of filthy, our car was a pig sty until yesterday. Down right unsanitary. Quite honestly, the health department could have been called for the risk we were putting our boys in. I realized it was bad when I was taking the boys to the gym where they would participate in child care. I quickly grabbed an apple and an apple cutter so they could snack along the way. I cut the apple and gave them each three slices. Beast dropped his on the ground; I picked it up, rubbed off the dirt and gave it back to him.
“Can I still have it?” He asked.
“Of course” I said. Then I looked around on the floor and found a blue plastic bowl to put his pieces in so he wouldn’t drop them. I then found a pink water cup for Fire.
“I’m thirsty” Beast said. Admittedly it was very hot so I grabbed a couple of water cups up from the floor. I was about to fill them up with the hose but thought better of it. Instead of looking through the cupboards I went ahead and filled the cups up with water from the sink. I feel like I’m at confession now. In the past I have been known to let my kids drink day old water if it is still in the cup holders. I don’t want them dehydrated. They have also eaten, without my permission, some of the cheerios left on their seat from previous snacks. I have also let them pee next to the car in the parking lot if a bathroom is not nearby. I’m sorry. But don’t give me the Hail Mary’s just yet.
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
(Man/Husband/Father) Filthy Sex II
I found a brochure from September of 2009 when the state fair was being promoted. Shoes, forks, used napkins, wipes, toys, wrappers, an ice scraper, an umbrella, straws, Taco Bell hot sauce packets, and lots of mapquest directions. I see guys detailing their cars on the weekends and it makes me shake my head. My detailing consists of a trash can next to the paper grocery bag (for shoes and clothing) and a vacuum cleaner with the scraper nozzle. The cars now look great by the way. I had been inspired to clean my two cars after noticing our filthy carpet.
3) Cleaning our cars would be more disappointing if they were new and I planned on having them for a while. Instead, these cars are kid friendly. Just like the carpet in our duplex. I’m not worried about how much money I spent on carpet because they will just tear the cheap carpet up when the next person moves in. I know we will eventually buy a new car and be in a house I do not want dirty. And I know it may just be a different kind of dirt like soccer cleats and sweat. But at least it won’t be urine and feces from a potty training Fire. However, vomit may come into the picture from a car sick kid. Moving on.
My brother-in-law loaned me a carpet cleaner and so I cleaned our living room. Pretty disgusting water at the end of all. Who knew? I thought it was fascinating while Daisy could barely watch as I poured it down the drain. Speaking of filthy carpet how about filthy kids?
4) We have an excuse in not giving our kids a bath every day. They both have eczema and it dries their skin out. But there are times when we look at each other and say, “When was the last time they were bathed?” I think getting into a squirt gun fight is just as good. Daisy doesn’t think so. Surely a hose fight. Not so. A kiddy pool immersion? No. So we put them in the tub and experience Fire who splashes vigorously, fills up water and pours it out onto the floor, unplugs the drain, drinks the dirty water, stands up, and may even decide it is a good place to poop. We take him out and he fights us in a very robust manner while we try to apply his eczema lotion. A greased pig rolling around on the carpet. I’m pretty sure hog tying is illegal but I’m not even sure it would help. Speaking of filthy boys may I tell you about my filthy teeth?
5) My teeth are green and have been known to fall out because of infection. I just don’t like brushing because it is such a chore. Kidding of course. So I go to the dentist to get a routine cleaning. I lay in the chair; she points the light into my mouth and starts to work. I look at the ceiling, out the window; listen to a child screaming in the office next door, and eventually into the eyes of the woman with the goggles and surgical mask on. I blush because she is inches away from my face and is very pretty. I mean, what could be more intimate then that? Cleaning my filthy teeth and my saying,“Yu ha rity I”. After she took her surgically gloved hands out of my mouth I sat up and said, “I know we had an intimate moment just now but….."
“We had a wh………?”
“SSShhhhh” I put my index finger on her lips. “Let’s not ruin it with words.” And with that I walked out and never looked back.
3) Cleaning our cars would be more disappointing if they were new and I planned on having them for a while. Instead, these cars are kid friendly. Just like the carpet in our duplex. I’m not worried about how much money I spent on carpet because they will just tear the cheap carpet up when the next person moves in. I know we will eventually buy a new car and be in a house I do not want dirty. And I know it may just be a different kind of dirt like soccer cleats and sweat. But at least it won’t be urine and feces from a potty training Fire. However, vomit may come into the picture from a car sick kid. Moving on.
My brother-in-law loaned me a carpet cleaner and so I cleaned our living room. Pretty disgusting water at the end of all. Who knew? I thought it was fascinating while Daisy could barely watch as I poured it down the drain. Speaking of filthy carpet how about filthy kids?
4) We have an excuse in not giving our kids a bath every day. They both have eczema and it dries their skin out. But there are times when we look at each other and say, “When was the last time they were bathed?” I think getting into a squirt gun fight is just as good. Daisy doesn’t think so. Surely a hose fight. Not so. A kiddy pool immersion? No. So we put them in the tub and experience Fire who splashes vigorously, fills up water and pours it out onto the floor, unplugs the drain, drinks the dirty water, stands up, and may even decide it is a good place to poop. We take him out and he fights us in a very robust manner while we try to apply his eczema lotion. A greased pig rolling around on the carpet. I’m pretty sure hog tying is illegal but I’m not even sure it would help. Speaking of filthy boys may I tell you about my filthy teeth?
5) My teeth are green and have been known to fall out because of infection. I just don’t like brushing because it is such a chore. Kidding of course. So I go to the dentist to get a routine cleaning. I lay in the chair; she points the light into my mouth and starts to work. I look at the ceiling, out the window; listen to a child screaming in the office next door, and eventually into the eyes of the woman with the goggles and surgical mask on. I blush because she is inches away from my face and is very pretty. I mean, what could be more intimate then that? Cleaning my filthy teeth and my saying,“Yu ha rity I”. After she took her surgically gloved hands out of my mouth I sat up and said, “I know we had an intimate moment just now but….."
“We had a wh………?”
“SSShhhhh” I put my index finger on her lips. “Let’s not ruin it with words.” And with that I walked out and never looked back.
Sunday, July 25, 2010
(Man) Pack
I want to thank all who have come back to visit. Daisy said I was more engaged with the family this last week so that was good to hear. Anyway, more of an opinion blog today. Hope you don't mind.
Wolf packs are hierarchical social structures with an "alpha", subordinate "beta" wolves and a low ranking "omega" which bares the brunt of the pack's aggression. The alpha wolf is given preference to be the first to eat and the first to mate. A beta wolf will act as a new alpha if the old alpha dies. Omega bares the brunt of the pack's aggression, is subordinated to all others in the community, and is the last allowed to eat.
Please excuse me if I make an exaggerated parallel to men. I certainly would not say a leader of a group of men would eat his Taco Bell first while expecting the least respected man on the totem pole to wait until he was done. However, there is a lot to say regarding men who do things together and the dynamic that occurs when it happens. I have traveled with man packs and enjoy the feeling of making a presence when walking into a bar, movie theatre, or even in the outdoors such as fishing or snowboarding. There is something that is satisfying when I am part of a social system with men I enjoy being with. But it really sucks when the Alpha male has a fragile ego which, in turn, means the group of men are less likely to feel comfortable with who they are. They are also more likely to protect the ego of their leader when others may appear to threaten it. But, human relationships are so important it is sometimes better to stay with an emotionally/spiritually unhealthy group than to chance being alone for a while.
In the hierarchy of men I don’t think the emotionally/spiritually healthiest of the group becomes the alpha. In fact, because men are very sensitive to shame, and especially fear shame/embarrassment in front of other men, the alpha may find a way to achieve status by withholding shame from members who appease him once they know he is capable of it. There may two guys who fight for the top spot which makes thing complex. In more primitive of groups it may actually be a fight including but not limited to the ideas, developed skills, or perhaps the most successful ($) man. Alpha achievement is also a social game. This is especially annoying to watch. When I see guys trying to be top dogs (peacocks blooming their feathers) I just want to say, “Hey guys, drop your pants, let’s see who has the biggest penis, and then we can get on with it.” But it is not always in the traditional sense of manly men with big trucks but also with computer programmers who fight over whether a Mac or pc is best and who might know the most about either. Most men are happy enough to be with a group of guys (betas) and may not even care about being the alpha. However, unbeknownst to their conscious mind, betas will position themselves in the hierarchy until the rhythm of the group is established. The rhythm will then need to be reestablished if a man leaves or enters the group.
I don’t think anybody fights to the omega man in the group but some guys don’t mind getting teased or chastised if it means they still belong. What perked my interest in wolves was a nature program I saw that pointed out, through their behavior, who the alpha, betas, and omega were in a specific pack they had followed. The pack would nip at the omega, chase the omega and, as mentioned before, would leave him the scraps after everyone had their fill of food. But what is most interesting is what happened when the omega died. The pack became depressed and essentially mourned the death of their companion for at least two weeks. The omega served a purpose in that he kept the pack in balance. There cannot be a pack without an omega or an alpha. A beta would now have to take the omega’s place.
I respect my fellow brothers but sometimes it appears as if there is a correlation with lower intelligence (higher risk behaviors) as the number of men in the group increases. The context of the group setting is important depending on if it is a Bachelor party in Vegas or going to dinner at Denny's. I hope not to appear as if I am immune or incredibly judgemental. But sometimes it is nice to take as step back and laugh at our own human behavior.
Now I want all of you to know there are no scientific sources I can cite to support any of what I have said. I’m simply popping off with opinions. I am led to believe women may have their own pecking order but it may be more subtle, and from what I understand, incredibly cruel and certainly not as overt as men’s misguided behavior. Am I right in this?
Wolf packs are hierarchical social structures with an "alpha", subordinate "beta" wolves and a low ranking "omega" which bares the brunt of the pack's aggression. The alpha wolf is given preference to be the first to eat and the first to mate. A beta wolf will act as a new alpha if the old alpha dies. Omega bares the brunt of the pack's aggression, is subordinated to all others in the community, and is the last allowed to eat.
Please excuse me if I make an exaggerated parallel to men. I certainly would not say a leader of a group of men would eat his Taco Bell first while expecting the least respected man on the totem pole to wait until he was done. However, there is a lot to say regarding men who do things together and the dynamic that occurs when it happens. I have traveled with man packs and enjoy the feeling of making a presence when walking into a bar, movie theatre, or even in the outdoors such as fishing or snowboarding. There is something that is satisfying when I am part of a social system with men I enjoy being with. But it really sucks when the Alpha male has a fragile ego which, in turn, means the group of men are less likely to feel comfortable with who they are. They are also more likely to protect the ego of their leader when others may appear to threaten it. But, human relationships are so important it is sometimes better to stay with an emotionally/spiritually unhealthy group than to chance being alone for a while.
In the hierarchy of men I don’t think the emotionally/spiritually healthiest of the group becomes the alpha. In fact, because men are very sensitive to shame, and especially fear shame/embarrassment in front of other men, the alpha may find a way to achieve status by withholding shame from members who appease him once they know he is capable of it. There may two guys who fight for the top spot which makes thing complex. In more primitive of groups it may actually be a fight including but not limited to the ideas, developed skills, or perhaps the most successful ($) man. Alpha achievement is also a social game. This is especially annoying to watch. When I see guys trying to be top dogs (peacocks blooming their feathers) I just want to say, “Hey guys, drop your pants, let’s see who has the biggest penis, and then we can get on with it.” But it is not always in the traditional sense of manly men with big trucks but also with computer programmers who fight over whether a Mac or pc is best and who might know the most about either. Most men are happy enough to be with a group of guys (betas) and may not even care about being the alpha. However, unbeknownst to their conscious mind, betas will position themselves in the hierarchy until the rhythm of the group is established. The rhythm will then need to be reestablished if a man leaves or enters the group.
I don’t think anybody fights to the omega man in the group but some guys don’t mind getting teased or chastised if it means they still belong. What perked my interest in wolves was a nature program I saw that pointed out, through their behavior, who the alpha, betas, and omega were in a specific pack they had followed. The pack would nip at the omega, chase the omega and, as mentioned before, would leave him the scraps after everyone had their fill of food. But what is most interesting is what happened when the omega died. The pack became depressed and essentially mourned the death of their companion for at least two weeks. The omega served a purpose in that he kept the pack in balance. There cannot be a pack without an omega or an alpha. A beta would now have to take the omega’s place.
I respect my fellow brothers but sometimes it appears as if there is a correlation with lower intelligence (higher risk behaviors) as the number of men in the group increases. The context of the group setting is important depending on if it is a Bachelor party in Vegas or going to dinner at Denny's. I hope not to appear as if I am immune or incredibly judgemental. But sometimes it is nice to take as step back and laugh at our own human behavior.
Now I want all of you to know there are no scientific sources I can cite to support any of what I have said. I’m simply popping off with opinions. I am led to believe women may have their own pecking order but it may be more subtle, and from what I understand, incredibly cruel and certainly not as overt as men’s misguided behavior. Am I right in this?
Monday, July 19, 2010
(Husband/Father/Son/Brother/Man) Time Out
Last Monday I saw that 125 people had visited my blog on one day. I didn't start this blog to attract hundreds of readers but I was encouraged to see so many people enjoying what I found to be fun & amusing topics. And despite the fact I have many more topics to write about and am in the habit of scripting lines in my mind as I go along the day, I'm going to take a week break.
Before inviting a client into the therapy room I usually take 5 seconds to "center" myself. I close my eyes, take a few deep breathes, and relax my muscles in preparation for our interaction. Maintaining a balance in between differing moods I may have at the moment. A centered and peaceful place. My week long break is to find that center again. I hope to see you return. Wish me luck.
Before inviting a client into the therapy room I usually take 5 seconds to "center" myself. I close my eyes, take a few deep breathes, and relax my muscles in preparation for our interaction. Maintaining a balance in between differing moods I may have at the moment. A centered and peaceful place. My week long break is to find that center again. I hope to see you return. Wish me luck.
Sunday, July 18, 2010
(Man) Pimping my Blog
If you are returning to this blog then evidently you were not repulsed by its simple design. I have read in several places that people may not respect what you have to say if you don't have a design on your blog that commands a certain amount of creativity, and ultimately, respect. I guess my old blog design was like showing up to a job interview with cut off jean shorts and an undershirt with yellow pit stains. With this new layout from the cutest blog on the block (see upper left hand corner) I believe I have moved up to business casual. Or at least backyard BBQ guest style with classy jeans and a polo shirt with a crocodile on the pocket . Daisy said it kind of, "looked girly" but I said I could weather any criticism thrown my way. Then I thought, maybe I am a woman. Some would say it is too late but I don't think so.
Saturday, July 17, 2010
(Son) Naughty II
Eggs were on sale for cheap. My two friends and I thought egging houses would be fun that night. Imagine Beavis and Butthead coming up to your check out counter. “What neighborhood do you live in?” she said as she was ringing up our eggs.
“Ummmm why?”
“Here is the area of town I live in, please don’t egg my house.”
“OK. He He He.” That isn’t even where we were egging and she thinks we are doing her a favor. “He He He”.
Anyway, we egg houses that night and go to sleep. My dad woke us all up and said, “We are going to wash some cars this morning.” Evidently there was a guy in the neighborhood where we egged that couldn’t sleep and went out to his garage. He saw us walk by at 1:00 am and found it suspicious. Hhhhmmm….really? He saw me flick 4 eggs onto his RV and somehow tracked us down. My house was at least 4 miles from there. I distinctly remember the house because I flicked the last four eggs, out of hundreds, onto the vehicle. But it wasn’t his RV we were to wash. My dad drove us down to a house around the corner from there. It had a unique looking red door I had not forgotten. We egged that door with several eggs. Why? Because it was unique and red. Out stepped an old man with a cane and his elderly wife walking behind him. I don’t know how my friends felt but my heart dropped. We began washing their vehicles with all adults watching. The owners of the house had already cleaned their door but it smelled absolutely awful. When we finished the man limped over to us and smiled. He didn’t say a word. He simply patted us all on the back and went inside. That was worse than any screaming lecture. Let me now tell you about a screaming lecture that lasted a few hours.
My bad behavior caught up with me and so I was on probation. Part of my probation included touring a state prison. I showed up and rolled my eyes at what I had to sign. It said something like if I were taken hostage they would not try to save me from the prisoner’s evil clutches. “Oh great” I thought, “Scared straight. Just get through it Goose.” My tour included going down long hallways of imprisoned men who spoke to me in a sexual way. They said I had certain female parts they would like to take part in which was not pleasant to hear. I was scared but there was no part of me that showed it. That made the prison guards mad. When it was just me and another guard walking down a stretch of the prison he said, “Aren’t you scared?” I think I may have just shrugged. I don’t know if the next part was part of the program or just for me but I walked into a large area where the prison cells could be seen two stories up surrounding the borders of the area. They guards surrounded me and took turns getting into my face and screaming. I didn’t know what happened next until later but I sincerely dissociated. I didn’t hear a word they said. I remembered one particular man who screamed at me the loudest because it had spittle running down his chin. It was as if time slowed down so I could study the intricacies of his face. His furrowed brow, the lines on his cheeks, the 3 day stubbled beard, and oh yeah the flying saliva. Anybody remember the movie Turner and Hooch? Maybe the movie Beethoven? I was probably thinking about what I was going to have for lunch when someone interrupted and said the yelling was over. I imagine it was fun for the guards to have the monotony of the day broken up for them and to feel a cathartic peace in their souls while also feeling as if they did their good deed for the day.
I went home and had to write a report on what I saw, heard, and felt about my experience. I looked at the yellow writing tablet with the pencil’s eraser in my mouth. I then set it down on the counter and flipped on daytime television. I’ll be damned if I could remember much of what happened that day.
“Ummmm why?”
“Here is the area of town I live in, please don’t egg my house.”
“OK. He He He.” That isn’t even where we were egging and she thinks we are doing her a favor. “He He He”.
Anyway, we egg houses that night and go to sleep. My dad woke us all up and said, “We are going to wash some cars this morning.” Evidently there was a guy in the neighborhood where we egged that couldn’t sleep and went out to his garage. He saw us walk by at 1:00 am and found it suspicious. Hhhhmmm….really? He saw me flick 4 eggs onto his RV and somehow tracked us down. My house was at least 4 miles from there. I distinctly remember the house because I flicked the last four eggs, out of hundreds, onto the vehicle. But it wasn’t his RV we were to wash. My dad drove us down to a house around the corner from there. It had a unique looking red door I had not forgotten. We egged that door with several eggs. Why? Because it was unique and red. Out stepped an old man with a cane and his elderly wife walking behind him. I don’t know how my friends felt but my heart dropped. We began washing their vehicles with all adults watching. The owners of the house had already cleaned their door but it smelled absolutely awful. When we finished the man limped over to us and smiled. He didn’t say a word. He simply patted us all on the back and went inside. That was worse than any screaming lecture. Let me now tell you about a screaming lecture that lasted a few hours.
My bad behavior caught up with me and so I was on probation. Part of my probation included touring a state prison. I showed up and rolled my eyes at what I had to sign. It said something like if I were taken hostage they would not try to save me from the prisoner’s evil clutches. “Oh great” I thought, “Scared straight. Just get through it Goose.” My tour included going down long hallways of imprisoned men who spoke to me in a sexual way. They said I had certain female parts they would like to take part in which was not pleasant to hear. I was scared but there was no part of me that showed it. That made the prison guards mad. When it was just me and another guard walking down a stretch of the prison he said, “Aren’t you scared?” I think I may have just shrugged. I don’t know if the next part was part of the program or just for me but I walked into a large area where the prison cells could be seen two stories up surrounding the borders of the area. They guards surrounded me and took turns getting into my face and screaming. I didn’t know what happened next until later but I sincerely dissociated. I didn’t hear a word they said. I remembered one particular man who screamed at me the loudest because it had spittle running down his chin. It was as if time slowed down so I could study the intricacies of his face. His furrowed brow, the lines on his cheeks, the 3 day stubbled beard, and oh yeah the flying saliva. Anybody remember the movie Turner and Hooch? Maybe the movie Beethoven? I was probably thinking about what I was going to have for lunch when someone interrupted and said the yelling was over. I imagine it was fun for the guards to have the monotony of the day broken up for them and to feel a cathartic peace in their souls while also feeling as if they did their good deed for the day.
I went home and had to write a report on what I saw, heard, and felt about my experience. I looked at the yellow writing tablet with the pencil’s eraser in my mouth. I then set it down on the counter and flipped on daytime television. I’ll be damned if I could remember much of what happened that day.
(Son) Naughty
Before I begin, I want to thank all of you who have had me on their prayer list in regard to my scrotum. I think everything is going to be OK so you can send that message down the prayer chain. I have already had several people do a prayer walk around my house and while I do appreciate the sentiment, you are starting to scare the children. With that said, I shall begin.
As a 15 year old lad I was placed into a class for potential dropouts. I wasn’t outwardly obstinate as much as passive aggressive. During the day I would smile at teachers and be friendly. I would say things like, “Your right, I should show up to school more. I’m really sorry.” and then walk out of school once they had their back turned. Night time was the right time for destruction and I’m willing to bet some of you have been the victims of teenage, or what you suspect were teenage, unruly behavior.
I was driving to work today when Daisy called and asked if I had taken down the pirate flag in front of our garage. We had left it up after the party because it was big and looked cool for the kids whenever we came home. I said no and it didn’t take but a second to realize what had happened. Teenagers. Those damn teenagers took it and I was not at all happy. Do I have an idea as to what teenagers? No. I just knew they were. Godforsaken teenagers who are headed straight into the bowels of hell. Y’know what I would like to do my blog reading/writing family? Do whatever it would take to make them p*ss their britches. I don’t know, maybe put a trash can on their head and beat it with a bat. Maybe some of you have felt the same way. The question is usually why. Why would someone feel the urge to steal or vandalize __________?
As a young felon I can say it is an incredibly selfish act that has nothing to do with the people who own the object other than we found some need to gratify our anger or else be gratified by someone else being angry. And I can’t say it is only limited to disorderly teenagers. I believe adults display destructive behavior born out of anger with the only difference being a more sophisticated excuse for being an a**.
Daisy said she would have considered giving the flag to the people if they had just asked. But it isn’t about the flag as much as the excitement that makes me forget them forget the disgust they have for life at the time. These teenagers will not all end up in the bowels of hell like I had hoped after hearing about the flag. And thank God. Because some day they may even end up being my responsible neighbors across the street.
(Sigh)
Am I saying boys/girls will be boys/girls and not to worry? No. But, for most, these kids have hearts despite the callousness they may display (“I don’t care”) and harshness by authority is what is expected. I want to end with two short stories.
As a 15 year old lad I was placed into a class for potential dropouts. I wasn’t outwardly obstinate as much as passive aggressive. During the day I would smile at teachers and be friendly. I would say things like, “Your right, I should show up to school more. I’m really sorry.” and then walk out of school once they had their back turned. Night time was the right time for destruction and I’m willing to bet some of you have been the victims of teenage, or what you suspect were teenage, unruly behavior.
I was driving to work today when Daisy called and asked if I had taken down the pirate flag in front of our garage. We had left it up after the party because it was big and looked cool for the kids whenever we came home. I said no and it didn’t take but a second to realize what had happened. Teenagers. Those damn teenagers took it and I was not at all happy. Do I have an idea as to what teenagers? No. I just knew they were. Godforsaken teenagers who are headed straight into the bowels of hell. Y’know what I would like to do my blog reading/writing family? Do whatever it would take to make them p*ss their britches. I don’t know, maybe put a trash can on their head and beat it with a bat. Maybe some of you have felt the same way. The question is usually why. Why would someone feel the urge to steal or vandalize __________?
As a young felon I can say it is an incredibly selfish act that has nothing to do with the people who own the object other than we found some need to gratify our anger or else be gratified by someone else being angry. And I can’t say it is only limited to disorderly teenagers. I believe adults display destructive behavior born out of anger with the only difference being a more sophisticated excuse for being an a**.
Daisy said she would have considered giving the flag to the people if they had just asked. But it isn’t about the flag as much as the excitement that makes me forget them forget the disgust they have for life at the time. These teenagers will not all end up in the bowels of hell like I had hoped after hearing about the flag. And thank God. Because some day they may even end up being my responsible neighbors across the street.
(Sigh)
Am I saying boys/girls will be boys/girls and not to worry? No. But, for most, these kids have hearts despite the callousness they may display (“I don’t care”) and harshness by authority is what is expected. I want to end with two short stories.
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