Sunday, April 30, 2006

With Thanks to Warren Harding

"The home is at last not merely the center, but truly the aim, the object and the purpose of all human organization. We do not seek to improve society in order that from better homes we may bring forth better servants of the state, more efficient cannon fodder for its armed forces; rather, we seek to make better homes in order that we may avoid the necessity for conflict and turmoil in our world.

"The home is the apex and the aim, the end rather than the means of our whole social system. So far as this world knows or can vision, there is no attainment more desireable than the happy and contented home."

--President Warren Harding

At least one President got it right.

How sad to live in a time where his words are turned on their ends, where being a servant of the state or really first-rate cannon fodder is considered more honorable than being the head and helpmeet of a happy and contented home.

Dreaming of a better day,

Thursday, April 13, 2006

A Good Bad Example

Just when you think you've shuffled all the cards in as many combinations as possible, the same cards keep getting dealt in the same order. Makes ya think there might be a law of nature involved, don't ya?

This morning I went for a walk, a luxury I don't often get, being as school starts at 0 dark thirty in the morning. I was enjoying the sunshine and quiet down at the park when I ran into a young lady of my acquaintance, the anglo wife of a military man of similar complexion, if you know what I mean. We had a lovely talk about the ideal weather we are enjoying out here in California, and I made friendly to her two tiny dogs. Now these two dogs had little girl names, not dawg names, and were dainty and well-kept, just like my young friend. She certainly makes you think the white race might be worthy of preservation!

But I digress.

She cuddled and treated those dogs just like they were children, and as our discussion progressed, she mentioned the fact that she and her husband weren't planning on having any children themselves. "These puppies are just like children to us."

I made muffled, non-committal noises in response, because they were about the only civil things I could get to come out of my mouth, and said I hoped I'd see her again one day but I had to keep walking or lose what little aerobic value my walk had. We parted with a nod and I labored up along the trail, fuming quietly.

Well, that's where I saw that law of nature demonstrated for the upteen-hundredth time, because coming down the trail from the parking lot was a squat little Mexican woman with one, two, three...keep counting...four, five, six shabbily-dressed urchins in tow. The little guys were ecstatic as they headed for the clean little playground with the sign that said "For Use of Residents Only". Funny, with housing prices the way they are around here, I couldn't see this little group as neighborhood residents. The mother looked as if she'd crossed the border yesterday, and had no English phrase to respond to my muttered "Morning."

When they settled in at the playground, which was empty till they showed up, the mother opened up the jug of water she'd hauled with her and poured some in a paper cup to give to the broad-faced boy in the yellow shirt.

As she poured out the drink for her son, I wondered which would have someone to defend them in the conflicts to come, my lovely anglo friend or this square-bodied, plain-looking, Mexican woman? As her son took the cup and drank deep of the water within, I saw the answer to my question in the adoring eyes he raised to his "madre."