Land That I Love

As I drive over to the community college where I'm currently doing some adjunct teaching, I've been known to belt out a song or two in the privacy of my little car. The songs are usually random, and they tend to be those that bring up good memories. Today I was in my best Kate Smith form with a strong rendition of "God Bless America". I think it came from a combination of hearing it every night of the World Series along with the memories of my dad saying that no one could sing that song like Kate. 


While thinking about the words as I was singing somewhat robustly, the particular phrase "land that I love" stuck with me. That part of the song came in conjunction with me crossing a bridge over White River where the photographer in me never fails to take a quick, sweeping look to my left and right, sizing up a picture in my mind. This time of year the trees are in various stages of bareness with a few still hanging on to their leaves for all they're worth. To some, it's a depressing time of year; to me, it's beautiful. It's nature at work; even through the barrenness it's life transforming once again. 


It is the land that I love. Truly my own little corner of the world.


My thoughts then went out to friends and relatives that live in different parts of the US. Those from the Southwest tell of its beauty through various descriptions; the same holds true for those from the Northeast, the Northwest, and the South. Although the pictures they create with their words are widely different, the words hold one thing in common--it is the land that they love.


So, for today, I'm going to focus not on the gibberish of people who talk for a living, who campaign for a living, or make rules upon rules for a living. Today I'm  going to focus on my immediate surroundings. On my drive back, I'll turn off the noise on the radio and tune in to the trees, the harvested fields, and the  various sites that make this my home--the land that I love.


And, more than likely, I'll sing again.


Have a fine day.

A Day at a Time

Anybody else out there guilty of getting up in the morning only to have the entire day planned out, plan b'd, and worried over sufficiently?


I decided today to try something a little different.


Every time I felt concern about what needed to happen during the day or days to come or days in the past, I reminded myself of God's words to us in Matthew 6:34: "Then have no care for tomorrow: tomorrow will take care of itself. Take the trouble of the day as it comes."


So, I went about my business. I went and taught a class at the community college and it went fine. I came home, had a bit of lunch, called my mom and chatted a bit--all was well. I then cut, fixed, and had a nice visit with a nice client in my little beauty shop--very enjoyable. I got my husband ready for work, we had a nice visit before we wished each other a good evening--always a joy to spend time with the Mister. I went to the garden, picked some lovely greens, fixed a nice salad for supper--a delight. The remainder of the evening I wrote--a productive time.


I figured something out: I didn't need to worry about tomorrow--frankly, I have no idea what it will bring since I'm not in charge, thank the good Lord. I do know I'm in good hands no matter what. 


I also figured out something else: There was no need to fume or worry today. All was well with the world. Did I make a million dollars? No. Do I need a million dollars? No. God provides. Did I set the world on fire? I don't believe I did. Did I do a tiny bit of good? I think so--I wrote cards to shut-ins on behalf of our church family. A small gesture, but it feels good doing God's bidding.


So, when tomorrow comes, or the next time you feel you need to be in charge enough that you have to worry about the future--give it a rest. Give yourself a rest. "Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest" (Matthew 11:28).


Have a fine day. 

The Largess of the Tiny

A day off from teaching and taking classes normally finds me, weather permitting, on the deck out back with a cup or three of coffee. This morning was one of those perfect pre-fall days--breezy enough to use it as an excuse to bring a blanket out along to snuggle in an over-sized lawnchair while reading, writing, and watching the aerial antics of the beloved hummingbirds.
Small creatures, they bring a largess of enjoyment.
I look up at the feeder periodically to see two quietly sitting; instantaneously, the duo rises to three, four, five, six...as many as twelve, darting and shifting, snatching a few seconds at the small bars to have a sip of nectar. Pairs entwine themselves in a circular flight up in the air, and then dramatically dive back down to recover from the tailspin at the last possible second. Others start a pattern of flying in a large "u" shape repeatedly, twittering each time they reach the upper peaks of the formation.
One small female in particular flies over within a foot of me periodically and hovers for a bit; I acknowledge her presence with a hello. I have a feeling she's drawn to my "comforter of many of colors" as much as she is my personality. Nevertheless, she returns much as a small child does having a ball gaining recognition from an adult, running back and forth and happily anticipating that next hello.
As I sit on the deck, I hear in the immediate background the familiar sounds of a combine, a tractor, and a grain cart being shuffled about in preparation to open a field for harvest. There's a slight sense of resignation that accompanies these sounds; I know that harvest means fall, and though a wondrous time of the year in southern Indiana, it marks the beginning of some endings--among them the realization sometime in the near future when I am sitting on the deck with no company of these tiny marvelous birds. They'll be on that mind-boggling flight across great bodies of water to a warmer clime. 
But that's not today; no, today they are fascinating. So, like these tiny creatures that bring with them a largess of joy, living for the moment of that next pirouette or sip of lovely nectar, I'm going to live in the moment and not miss out on any opportunities or discoveries today has to offer.
I hope you will enjoy the day, too.


Have a fine day indeed.

When Bad Habits Can Do Good Things

Last Friday I made a suggestion to my friends on FaceBook that we all take the money collected from our Bad Habit Jars for a week and give to UNICEF earmarked for Somalia. Secretly, I hoped for all of us to be particularly naughty in our bad habits in order to fill the jar sufficiently. I'm thinking I can do about 20 dollars worth of damage.


And just what are bad habits? Given enough philosophical minds sitting around with an ample supply of coffee or brandy, the discussion could go on for quite some time. Note* At this juncture there is probably some descent in the ranks pointing out that ample coffee and/or brandy might be considered bad habits in and of themselves...I'll leave that one alone since I happen to think both are lovely habits indeed. 


But I digress...


Are bad habits hurtful or just annoying? There seems to need to be a chasm between the two. Popping chewing gum, chewing on fingernails, cracking knuckles and the like used to be the bad habits to avoid as I was growing up. I believe times have changed. I seldom see (or perhaps notice) these annoying habits anymore, albeit I did have a short encounter with a gum popper a few months back. Yep...still annoying. But just that--annoying. Not really bad.


The true bad habits that are hurtful are those that require deeply thought-out excuses. The "I can't help that person because he/she will only fall back into disrepair once I stop" excuse as well as the "If you give them a little money you know what he/she will do with it" excuse. And there is reason in this...to an extent. Yes, a single-solitary attempt in isolation to help someone in dire need will likely fall short. It takes commitment. It does sometimes take a village. Perhaps the bad habit lies in not trying at all for fear of failing. Handing cash to someone who knowingly has great difficulties in managing cash isn't the greatest idea. Maybe hand them food, clothing, shelter, or an ear instead? 


None of us want to be bad with our habits. But at sometime each of us find ourselves giving up before we start, repeating once again that tried-and-true definition of stupidity: Doing the same thing over and over again, hoping for different results. 


Perhaps not thinking things through or not thinking things through differently is our greatest bad habit...


Good people do good things; good people also lose sleep at night in concern for others. Most people are good people. But we need lots more good people thinking outside  that proverbial box.


So, until Friday of this week, unleash those bad habits and fill those jars. Treat it as one would loading up on every lousy food choice out there before attempting a strict diet. The jar needs to runneth over.


Then, on Saturday, once the donation has been made to these less fortunate to the nth degree folks in Somalia, start daring yourself to defy the bad habit of atrophy. Take a chance--say hello to someone that might be a little odd; write thinking of you cards to folks in the nursing home and become that pen pal; really ask that person you're concerned about what you can do to help; ask someone to church, house meeting, our meditation circle. Stick a toe outside that box. Is it taking a chance? You bet. Might you not get the result you hope for? Quite possibly. Will you feel exhilarated as a result? Absolutely.


Maybe with all this creative thinking, we won't need to keep our jars for starving people; maybe we'll get lots of messes lined out and, more than likely, won't have time to ponder a bad habit--just a couple of annoying ones for sport.


Have a fine day.

Never Doubt the Power of Faith

God will be there when we need Him...we know that. What we forget is that God is always there, just waiting much like an expectant parent, knowing full-well we'll be asking for something time and again.
I did that yesterday morning.
I had a desire to have a fall garden. The garden is now nicely in place, and, of course, needs to be tilled from time to time. I have a little tiller for this...one stubborn little tiller. I can never get it started. I'm also short in the wing-span department, so I tend to pull the cord wrong and end up with a twisted something or other...this time it was my lower back.
Rats.
I don't like being sick or wounded, so this didn't set too well. It was also the first week of my new adventure as teacher and student, so I wanted to be at my best. 
Monday was painful.
Tuesday was as well.
Wednesday morning found me up earlier than necessary with it worse than ever.
So I prayed about that a bit and had faith...LOTS of faith.
I know God can literally move mountains if He so chooses; I know He can make a person well, if it's right for the time in the big picture.
I also know he's good at helping us get calm and get sensible.

And the back pain started letting up...what did I do? Used that common sense and calm that I received in that prayer. I took an extra long warm shower first thing in the morning and that loosened everything up that needed to be loosened. I figured out a different configuration to haul my teaching materials in and out of the buildings. And so on...just good 'ol calm common sense.

Then I got home Wednesday night only to find that I had left my laptop power cord aka life line somewhere. Pray again? You bet. Not that it would magically appear, but that it was where I thought it had to be and that it wouldn't be swiped just for giggles.

So I called first thing this morning over to VU, talked to the wonderful secretary at the humanities office (everyone needs to have a Patty in their lives), and she called back in under 10 minutes saying that a maintenance guy there in the building (some of the nicest guys around) had been up there, found it, and it was waiting in her office for my return tomorrow. 

Never doubt the power of faith.

I didn't literally have a mountain moved, but due to some good calm and common sense, my back feels a whole lot better.

I didn't have the power cord magically appear in my messenger bag, but I know there are a bunch of good and decent and honest people at VU.

What more signs of faith do we need?

Have a fine day.

One Day Without Finger Pointing

Okay...we know that the Congress has let us down--again. Are you really surprised? Really? Didn't think so. Yet every time we go through the same period of grief with shock and dismay. 
So here's the deal...
We know that the country's economy is in a mess.
We know that many people are unemployed.
We know the our government basically doesn't care a fig about we the people.


What we need to remember is that it's not necessarily one party nor the other that created this mess. So why be so protective? Moreover, why turn on one another protecting the very people who are making everyone grumpy in the first place?


How about we stop the finger pointing? 


Let's try that...let's start tomorrow.


Instead of complaining about this politician or that politician, this political party or that political party, let's just take care of ourselves and one another. We'll be ahead in the long run. Independence and interdependence--some good stuff. 


You'll feel better. And you'll for sure be a lot more useful to those around you. And much more pleasant. 


So...no finger pointing. Just go about our business.


One day I think it might catch on...maybe eventually we'll all realize that the politicians don't have much in common with the rest of us. And, in the meantime, the rest of us can make this world a little better place.


Minus the finger pointing. 

It Takes a Village...To Host a Celebration

The 2011 annual 4th of July Celebration at Otwell is now in the books. In 1957 the Ruritan Association began in Jefferson Township, and, over the many years, there have been  celebrations hosted as fundraisers for the community.
Otwell's current population is around 400--a tiny town population. However, come the weekend of the 4th of July, that population--Ruritan members, Community Center members, and just plain good-hearted folks--come to the old school grounds and ask where they can best help. They sell hamburgers, ice cream, call Bingo, sell raffle tickets, cook chicken and ribs, bake pies, make slaw and potato salad and baked beans, plan parades, run beauty contests, etc. 
Think about it: this small town, more the size of a quaint village, does a bit of everything. Browse around the website at http://otwelljuly42011.wordpress.com and marvel at all that is done for the entertainment and fun of the surrounding area. It's exhausting just to think about it. Many towns ten times larger couldn't pull this off--but little Otwell does.That's the spirit of volunteerism.
One really neat thing that came from this? There's a huge, new shiny generator sitting on the east side of the Community Center now. That generator was made possible through the generosity of a village--a benevolent population. And now, as a result of that generosity and a lot of hard work, the Community Center is a designated Red Cross Emergency shelter. Big deal? Yep, it is. As a number of us stood in the pole barn where the Young Farmers were selling concessions on Sunday evening and watched a storm tear through the grounds, more than one person felt a little better knowing that there was a shelter at the ready to protect the people attending the celebration. Fortunately, it wasn't needed...but it's there when it is.
And now the cautionary part of my meandering--Otwell is aging. The average age of the volunteers is getting pretty high. They're wonderful people and they're still working diligently, but several of them worried aloud to me that they just can't keep doing this forever. They need help. They need more and more young adults to become involved to assure that the celebration continues. They were all quick to praise every last young person that was helping this year with the chicken and rib cooking, with the events, with every little thing that someone new or younger was helping with to make the three days go smoother. 
I've been treated to a 4th of July celebration for a long as I can remember. It was a very special part of my growing up. Every year, the memories of years come flooding back--and good memories they are. Let's make sure that those little townsfolk running around the grounds get the same chance to have memories and then, through volunteering, make memories for yet the next generation. 
It takes a village to raise a child...it certainly takes a WHOLE village to host a celebration. Be sure to pitch in next year--I guarantee you'll be welcomed with a big smile.
Have a fine day...

Carnivores Can Be Dainty, Too

I attended a little event today on a road trip and it was pleasant enough; the weather was great, the setting very inviting, the chit-chat interesting. There was, however, one perplexing thing that had me thinking all the way home. 
This was an all-female event and, of course, there was good food to accompany this event. There was a nice selection of fresh salads, rice dishes, veggie muffins, veggie/egg casseroles, etc. There was a distinct absence of meat. It was even discussed on and off during the time we sat down to eat.The conversation would drift to other topics and then someone would comment on how good something was and bam...there it was again. The discussion of the absence of meat. "This is an all-girl party" was even voiced, making that a defense for no sight of the first crumb of chicken, turkey, pork, beef, fish...you name it. If it was even considered meat--nada.
When did females get the idea odd idea that we don't need meat? Of course, if an individual--male or female-- doesn't want to be a carnivore, I'm fine with that. Some of the nicest people I know are herbivores. But all of us? Just because of an x chromosome? When did that happen?
I like meat. I have seldom met a cut of meat from any two-legged, four-legged, finned, or feathered being that I couldn't tolerate. Okay; maybe chicken feet, but that falls into a whole different category. But a cheeseburger, a pork cutlet, a piece of salmon or a catfish filet, and any configuration of chicken or turkey (barring the feet once again, thank you) and I'm there. 
Thankfully, I was cruising home after the party through Montgomery and the burgers were frying at the local Stop 'n Sea. When I got home and bit into that loaded cheeseburger, I was one happy, dainty little carnivore.

The Exhaustion That Accompanies Doom-Sayers

I don't know about anyone else, but I've found the past few days to be exhausting. Not because I was getting my house and/or affairs in order for the doom-sayers predictions, but I'm exhausted from realizing just how divided we are any more as humans.

Let's face it...folks got pretty snarky.

I figured there would be a few out there who, for whatever odd reason, would do some posturing and "in your face" strutting about, making it very clear to all of us folks of faith that we're just this side of not too bright. But wow...really?

As the day went on today, so too did the barbs, the sarcastic remarks, the generally indignant taunts. The scary part, however, to me was how it was beginning to reach a fevered pitch. I did a lot of online work today that had piled up and it got to the point that I just shut everything down...it got that bad. One guy who I generally consider a reliable and thoughtful resource on my Twitter feed went so far as to post "no rapture=God is dead". I've stopped following him...that's just crossing the line in my book.

What has become of us as a learned society? Intelligence doesn't equate hatred and intolerance. Yet this is what happened this past week. We are quick to point out others' intolerance, yet this happens?

My heart goes out in several different directions today. I feel sad for the people who wanted to believe their leader so badly that they forgot a simple tenet of our Christian belief--NO ONE knows when the rapture will occur. Christ himself said He doesn't know. I'm banking that if He doesn't know that a mere mortal for sure won't. And why do we need to know a time? Anyone who dies for whatever reason is "raptured", so to speak. The mortal journey is over...the eternal one begins. I find that incredibly reassuring and exciting.

My heart goes out equally to those who, as a result of being made to think about their mortality, found a great deal of hate in their hearts and lashed out. It got pretty rough out there, folks. Pretty ugly from the mortals. Yikes.

After multiple distractions throughout the day, I decided to put the top down on Miss Priss and just get out and drive a bit. Did me a world of good. Life got back in a welcomed routine. I went and visited my mom and fixed her hair; I went and bought my needed ingredients to prepare the Friday Night Challenge; I drove through the Ireland flats and got inundated with the aroma of turkey manure being spread on the fields. I felt the sun on my face, the wind in my hair. I heard the birds singing their hearts out. And life came back to normal...what a great word.

I'm a firm believer in God and an afterlife; I find it very reassuring and comforting to know that our journey won't just end abruptly once our bodies give out. I like the idea of greater knowledge, understanding, and discovery down the road. It all makes sense to me.

I truly hope that this past week of events will help us all to slow down, enjoy life, and do a little self-examination when it comes to tolerance. We all come into each others' lives with some form of baggage; equally, we all have things that matter greatly to us. How about we start practicing what makes us feel good to preach. Let's just live and love and accept.

Peace be with you.

Happy Mother's Day, Mom

I'll admit it freely. I'm one of the luckiest kids on Earth when it comes to parents. I love them now; I loved them when I was a teenager. I knew they were always in charge, but I also knew they were always in my corner. I felt protected without being smothered; I felt free to be creative and unique while being tethered by a common sense. I felt special while knowing I was not the center of the universe. I was raised like a kid, not a science project. I was allowed to get my clothes dirty, to get scratched up, to get my feelings hurt. I was simply told, as a result, to get cleaned up, that a band-aid would fix the scratch, and to let the hurt go and get back out there and have fun. I carry those same truths with me today. 


When I was little, we were like most people and pretty well scraped by--I just never knew it. When I got older and Dad got a prized job at the mine running Big Kate, we were doing pretty well--I just never knew it. We were just people, plain and simple. A pretty good way to be.


When Dad died a few years back, Mom lost her best friend in the world. It would have been easy for her just to fold up, too. They had been together for over 60 years; suddenly she was alone. But anyone who knows Mom knows that wasn't going to happen. She's a trooper; she doesn't expect life to be easy, and she doesn't want to be pampered. She'd rather laugh than cry, and she's always reminded us that God didn't promise us a bed of roses for a life. All that reality gave us good roots.


On the other hand, no mom is better at helping kids reach for the sky. During our kid-hoods and now as adults, the three of us kids still invent crazy things, try just about anything, and don't get too excited if we really mess things up while learning something new. Things can be neatened up, cleared up, and cleaned up. Experiencing all facets of life can be pretty messy; truly experiencing all those facets can come out looking like a train-wreck. However...once that new skill is learned, that challenge met, or that creation brought to fruition...fantastic.


Thanks to Mom and Dad, we have common sense roots, we have dreams that never end, and we truly know love. 


Mom is 83 and has never been more beautiful. I'm blessed to have her as my mom and honored to have her as my friend.


Love ya, Mom.

Plan B

A fairly good idea I've had in the works for awhile now got a few holes shot into it earlier today. Over the past several years, I've learned to not only to accept that things normally don't work in their first draft, but I've more or less learned to expect it. Writing goes through a series of drafts--why shouldn't life?


Time for Plan B.


People have all kinds of reasons for seeing that things just won't work; this is an inherited skill that we humans have honed over thousands of years. We're pretty good at it. However, there are some of us out there that are either too stubborn or too caught up in the "what if" to stop at the first juncture.


We have a Plan B.


Plan B is a lifesaver; it keeps the world moving forward. It doesn't allow for stagnation or, worse yet, losing progress earlier made.


Interestingly, when I returned to my computer and the Twitter feed, a TED talk appeared. TED talks are amongst my favorite things. They're intelligent, forward thinking, and those giving the talks have a Plan B. This particular talk was entitled, "The Antidote to Apathy". I stopped and listened; it was 18 minutes of pure gold. If you'd like to listen and be encouraged and inspired, it's at http://on.ted.com/96iN 

Life will hand us roadblocks...we can survive and thrive in spite of them...with a Plan B.

Layers of Life

Happily, I am able to head back to the deck to do some meandering today. Specifically, I headed to the hammock on the patio by my office to do some thinking. While taking in all the silence of humans and cacophony of nature, I heard one of my favorite sounds. There was a bird nearby by that was performing in its best voice, which is always enjoyable. But what really set it off was that great sound of a bird back in the woods, singing its heart out as well, but adding that element of a slight echo that filled the surrounding area in the woods. You know that sound? Listen for it the next time you're close to a woods. Fantastic. Nature's sound system. 


It's that layering effect that makes everything in life a little sweeter, a little softer, a little easier on the ears and eyes. It puts our lives into stereo. The aesthetic touch that makes a human a little more human.


I've been a parrothead for many year; for those of you who aren't familiar with that odd fellowship, it's the folks who enjoy Jimmy Buffett's songs and stories. I have very few collections since I'm not much on keeping on one subject, but I have amassed quite a bit of Jimmy's music. He's one of those artists that has created some iconic music throughout the years. However, one of my favorite songs he wrote and performs comes from a less than memorable attempt at a musical. This song speaks of those layers of life in a vernacular I can also easily identify with--cooking: "Layers and layers of spices and flavors are finding their way to my brain." When I first heard those words, it made perfect sense to me. It IS all about the layers.


As a lover of being behind the camera, I look at life in layers. It's the photographers' eye that is always looking for the layers through the lens. It's the layers that bring focus to the subject of the shot. Even the extensive void of white or black as a background creates a layering effect that envelopes a specific focal point.


Our lives are richer when we celebrate all the layers. Don't squander time picking and choosing single events; let it all be a part of the sounds, the smells, the sights.


Have a fine day.

The Hesitancy of Spring

We all reveled in the beauty that was spring at its finest early last week. Daffodils, hyacinths, forsythia, and crocus practically sprung from the ground and scented its surroundings with a fragrance that is unique to this time of year. There was some heat in the sun, and we all reacted accordingly like cats in a sunbeam--we stretched, we smiled, we purred with happiness.


Then came last weekend and reality of how spring can be so hesitant in its ownership of this time of the year. The wind blew, the temperature dropped, the snow fell and covered all the wondrous signs of spring. The green grass became once again a lawn of white; the flowers became white misshapen piles of snow. Our moods went from lightness and warmth and airiness to darkness and chills and the urge to hibernate came once again. 


Ah, the hesitancy of spring; it peeks through and gives us hope, only to shy away once again at the first inkling of the forces of winter wanting one more day in the spotlight.  Just when we think that spring has regained a foothold over its old nemesis, it disappears and the cold wind, the cold rain, and the dampened spirits return.


Keep the faith, dear friends--every day that takes us one day further into the season of spring brings the promise that the warmth will stay, the trees will leaf out, and our spirits will soar once again.

Wintertime

Wintertime is a rough time for many people. This winter has been particularly miserable for many with all the ice, snow, sub-zero wind chills, etc. These extremes in weather have caused a great many people to hibernate in their homes, many times against their better judgement. People are social and this weather doesn't encourage sociability. I've seen many folks--young and old and in-between--fall into a true case of the winter doldrums. It takes getting out, getting moving, and getting with others to turn this around. What to do in the meantime?
Remember all those lists compiled (either on paper or mentally) of things that we would be doing once we weren't out doing yard work, home repairs, vacations, etc.? How about tackling that list? Most people just look at the list and decide they're just not in the mood or don't have enough energy to do this. The truth of the matter is that we DO have just as much energy; our brains are just telling us otherwise. We're full of cobwebs this time of year. We need to feel a warm breeze, see a sprig of green, have a few more minutes of daylight. But we DO still have energy.
So...let's use that energy. Look at one item on the list. Re-arrange the photo albums? Clean out a closet and take the clothes to a local charity shop? Pick one job. DO IT. You'll feel great! Your energy will return, you'll turn the corner of cob-webbiness and, before you know it, you'll have many of these chores done just in time to step out into the first warm breeze and feel that spring sunlight on your face.
Have a fine day...

Why Reward the Expected?

I was reading an article the other day and found something to be somewhat surprising and, at the same time, odd. It was a discussion about school-age students and their behavior. It was actually being stressed that kids should be rewarded--and quite often-- for their good behavior.

When did this happen? Time warp...back some 30, 40+ years...we "middle agers" are kids. What on earth would have been thought of our parents if one of them suggested that we be rewarded for behaving? Right. After being laughed out of the room, they might have been shunned, at least for a time, for such an outlandish idea. And, as a result of being expected to behave, we grew up and learned to behave pretty well as adults. We knew we wouldn't always get our way, we knew we wouldn't win nearly every contest or competition, we knew that the world didn't revolve around us, and we knew that our parents truly loved us without the need to prove it in materialistic ways. We knew we were expected to behave--so we did. End of story.

I truly hope that this phenomena doesn't last much longer; it's not healthy for anyone. Not for the parents that become somewhat crazed by listening for every microbit of information that might present itself as a child not being told how wonderful he/she is on an hourly basis. Not for the kids that think that behaving is something that presents itself as a suggestion to be considered. Not for society that continually cleans up the messes of these fractured ways of thinking.

Guess what...no matter who you are, no matter what you are...you have to learn to behave. No rewards. No pats on the back. No atta-boys. Just plain behave.