See the Grazing Mule Before Us...
Merry Christmas to all of you inclined toward celebrating this day or whatever else you may be celebrating at this time of year.
Blast From Christmas Past
Last night I found this piece of paper while putting something in my mother's attic. It was written on Christmas day of 1972. I was 10 years old. I still remember that purple loose leaf paper-- a 1972 classic which I also had in blue, green, yellow and orange.
The first sentence is a quote by Antoine de Saint Exupery. I guess at 10 years old I didn't know about citing sources, but unlike some of my students, I knew that different ideas should be separated into different paragraphs and I spelled most of my words correctly, (without benefit of a spell-checker.)
Love is not two people looking at each other but two people looking in the same direction. Another vertion [sic] of love is a strong liking of something.
Reality is something true to one's mind or material. I think things in a person's mind could possibly be brought to reality.
On the second half of the page, I begin a chronicle of the holidays with the kin-folk in New Iberia, LA. On Christmas night, I claim to have been hanging out with my older cousin (which I do remember), shooting fireworks, drinking wine, and not going to bed until after 2:30 AM.
After reading it I am left with two thoughts:
Not much has changed. (Pondering the nature of love and reality, drinking wine, not going to bed at a "reasonable" time...)
Where the hell were my parents???
I find myself asking this question a lot when I reflect on my childhood. I can tell you this much: no way in hell will my 10 year old daughter be hanging out with the teenagers, drinking wine and staying up until 2:30 AM. At least not while I live and breathe. I think my mom and dad were over the whole parenting thing by the time I came along (surprise!) almost 12 years after their first two (planned) children. I was always around people a lot older then I was and never fit in with kids my own age.
It's funny to look at Rachel on this day, one month older than I was on Christmas day of 1972, and realize that she is at the same stage of life I was when I wrote the things on this page. In a lot of ways, she's just like me. But she's still got a lot more kid in her than I did at that age. Still, I'm looking forward to her first essay on the nature of love and reality.
Enjoy your day!