Chocolate and Vanilla

I used to call these Sweet Babies my chocolate & vanilla ice-cream cones. They are brothers in blood and love, sons of my body and my heart. They grew up in the same house for most of their lives. yet they were treated differently by others simply because one is "chocolate" and one is "vanilla".  As they grew up it became apparent that one was automatically treated with respect and openness, and the other, with suspicion and wariness. Yet they both have tattoos, and other marks of their generation; and they are both charming and bright.

My daughter, whom I met when she was 13, is also blonde and beautiful.  She and her husband are lucky enough to be burdened with many of  the "first world problems" working parents of three beautiful children often are.  Lack of time.  Finding babysitters.  Lack of money.  Stuff like that. 

We think of this country as "first world", but right now there are places, neighborhoods, right down the street from us, that are more dangerous than some of the places we call "third world".  It's embarrassing, frankly, to wonder what our neighbors across the planet must think of us.   

My father used to tell us how lucky we were, that we live in the greatest country in the world.  He was a member of the "greatest generation" and he believed in what he said.   My mother, who was an early twentieth century Southerner through and through, treated everyone with respect, even those whom she believed, mistakenly, were put on this planet to serve her.  That was hard to write. My mother did hold the beliefs of her time, but I also remember her expressing her disgust at the firehoses and dogs of the early 1960s.  Today there are neighborhoods all over this country where the actions of  the police make those firehoses and dogs look tame in comparison.

My heart breaks every time I hear of someone's human child being gunned down on the street.  That most of the time that child seems to be "chocolate" is loathsome; disgusting.  Murdered children are murdered children.  No matter the age of the child, he or she is someone's baby, and a parent mourns.

Let us try every day to remember that we are human brothers and sisters, if not in love, surely in the blood we share.  

Facebook, Friendship, and Face Time

The wonderful thing about Facebook for us baby-boomers, is the ability to reconnect with old friends from our childhood and younger years.  My heart is warmed when I can reconnect with someone I used to see, hug, share with on a daily basis, but whom I may not have seen or heard from in 20, 30 even 40 years.  But there is a downside to this wonderfulness.

When we don't connect on a physical level, something is missing.  Nuances, verbal asides, even idle gossip, can inform our friends of events we might not otherwise broadcast in a post.  For example, you might not post "I haven't been feeling well",  but if I see you every day, i might notice that you are looking pale, or have the sniffles, or not eating. 

I have enough Facebook friends, that, if we don't interact on a regular basis, I might not even see a post from you.  If I am your friend, but not a friend to your grown children whom I have never met, I might not see interactions that indicate that something's up.  

I am musing about these things because In the last six weeks two of my much loved Facebook friends, with whom I was actual friends with during my teenaged years and early twenties, have died.  Another dear one went in for surgery and asked for prayers.  I didn't even know my two departed friends weren't feeling well, much less suffering from a terminal disease.  I was terrified to hear of a hospital visit, but, thankfully, in that last case, I was able to private message a relative and find out that the hospital visit was for a benign issue.  Needless to say, I was shocked and saddened when I found out about each event so suddenly.

I don't know how to name my feelings about these events.  It makes me yearn to travel, that's for sure, and personally visit each and every one of you whom I loved long ago, in person.  

When I was a young woman I was pretty footloose and fancy free:  moving around, traveling from house to house, city to city and state to state, before settling down thirty years ago, far from my California and Colorado friends.  

This is to tell each of you that I love you.  

I Love You. Over the years of space and time and change, I love you.  I have always loved you.   

I was so happy to find you, and I am filled with gratitude that I can see your "Likes" and "comments" and photos.  I want to hold you all close to me in any way possible.  So if you aren't feeling well, or are going through a divorce, or having minor surgery, I want to know. Really.   I want to know you.  When you are sad, or ill, or lonely, I want to know so  that I can send my love to you, and hold you and your loved ones close, in my heart, if not in my arms.