A Parent's Open Letter regarding his child

Dear World,      
My young son starts to school today...It's going to be sort of strange and new to him for awhile, and I wish you would sort of treat him gently. You see, up to now he's been king of the roost...He's been boss of the backyard...His mother has always been near to soothe his wounds and repair his feelings.
But now things are going to be different.

This morning he's going to walk down the front steps, wave his hand, and start out on the great adventure...It is and adventure that might take him across continents, across oceans...It's an adventure that will probably include wars and tragedy and sorrow...To live his life in the world he will have to live in, will require faith and love and courage.

So, World, I wish you would sort of look after him...Take him by the hand and teach him things he will have to know.
But do it gently, if you can.
He will have to learn, I know, that all men are not just, that all men are not true.
But teach him also that for every scoundrel there is a hero...that for every crooked politician there is a great and dedicated leader...Teach him that for every enemy, there is a friend.
Steer him away from envy, if you can...and teach him the secret of quiet laughter.

In school, World, teach him it is far more honorable to fail that to cheat...Teach him to have faith in his own idea, even if everyone says they are wrong...Teach him to be gentle with gentle people and tough with tough people.
Try to give my son the strength not to follow the crowd when everyone is getting on the bandwagon...Teach him to listen to all men - but teach him also to filter all he hears on a screen of truth and take just the good that siphons through.
Teach him, if you can, how to laugh when he's sad...Teach him there is no shame in tears...Teach him there can be glory in failure and despair in success.

Treat him gently, World, if you can, but don't coddle him...Because only the test of fire makes fine steel...Let him have the courage to be impatient...Let him have the patience to be brave.
Let him be no other man's man...Teach him always to have sublime faith in himself.
Because then he will always have sublime faith in mankind.
This is quite and order, World, but see what you can do...He's such a nice little fellow, my son!


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Author: Dan Valentine

A Chunk of My Childhood

My older sister Jean passed away on May 19 after losing her battle with cancer. I consider her one of my second moms, the other being my sister Jan who passed away in 1990. The call from my nephew Dinesh was not unexpected - her situation had been declining because she had inoperable brain cancer. But still, the thought of her never being around anymore is slowly sinking in. When she is buried tomorrow in Sri Lanka, the last bastion of 79 Mayfield Road, my childhood home will take with her a huge chunk of my childhood and youth.

To say she was a disciplinarian is an understatement. In fact, we were more scared of Jean finding out we did something wrong than we were afraid of our mom. As the youngest in my family, I have realized I have "youngest child syndrome" - I have to do everything better because everyone else has been there, done that and I have to be the entertainer if I want to be given a seat at the "adult table."

Some members of my family just accepted me, one tried to suppress me, but a few went out of their way to encourage my talents and showcasing them whenever we had company. Jean was one of those who was not shy about showing everyone that I was her favorite sister. She knew I hated to bathe in cold water, so she always boiled water to add to the water in the tank. Jean indulged my love of dressing up by sewing the most beautiful and decorative dresses and even got hats made to match my dresses for special occasions. She loved to take me shopping for my annual pair of dress shoes.

Jean was always proud of me - she went out of her way to show me off or speak of any of my accomplishments. She metered out advice on maintaining a high moral character, being wise with my money and even on looking after my children. The things that I found annoying when I was younger and trying to establish that I was capable of making my own decisions, made sense to me later in life as I realized that she cared for me as if I were her own daughter.

As soon as I heard she had been diagnosed with brain cancer, I knew I had to visit her while she was still able to enjoy my company. I was thrilled to see her face light up as she asked me to sing some of her favorite songs, retell some of her favorite jokes and dance. Yes, I was her official entertainer for the days that I spent with her - this time, holding nothing against her unsolicited advice, taking it all in stride. Those days will always live in my heart as our roles were reversed - I was the caretaker, Jean was the one who needed my protection and care.


I called her a few times before she passed away and sang to her. She could not respond - her voice was gone, but I knew that it made her smile. She had told me that she wanted to die without being a burden to anyone and asked me to pray for that. When I heard that she was partially paralyzed and could not speak, I prayed that God would grant her wish.

I kept in touch with her son and with my brother Reggie, checking on her situation, knowing I would never see her again on this earth. The night before Jean died, her son told me that she had been unresponsive to him, but when he mentioned "Molly is here," she had weakly turned her head to see if I was actually there. It confirmed what I always knew - even on her deathbed, she showed me that I was special. As she takes a chunk of my childhood with her, I know that I have just gained another guardian angel to watch over me until it is time for me to leave this earth.

MOTHERHOOD... IT WILL CHANGE YOUR LIFE

We are sitting at lunch when my friend casually mentions that she and her husband are thinking of "starting a family."  What she means is that her biological clock has begun its countdown and she is considering the prospect of motherhood.

"We're taking a survey," she says, half jokingly. "Do you think I should have a baby?"

"It will change your life," I say carefully.

"I know," she says. "No more sleeping in on Saturdays, no more spontaneous vacations..."

But that is not what I mean at all.

I look at my friend, trying to decide what to tell her.  I want her to know what she will never learn in childbirth classes.  I want to tell her that the physical wounds of childbirth heal, but that becoming a mother will leave her with an emotional wound so raw that she will be forever vulnerable.

I consider warning her that she will never read a newspaper again without asking "What if that had been my child?"  That every plane crash, every fire will haunt her.  That when she sees pictures of starving children, she will look at the mothers and wonder if anything could be worse than watching your child die.

I look at her carefully manicured nails and stylish suit and think she should know that no matter how sophisticated she is, becoming a mother will immediately reduce her to the primitive level.  That a slightly urgent call of "Mom!" will cause her to drop her best crystal without a moment's hesitation.

I feel I should warn her that no matter how many years she has invested in her career, she will be professionally derailed by motherhood. She might successfully arrange for child care, but one day she will be waiting to go into an important business meeting, and she will think about her baby's sweet smell.  She will have to use every ounce of discipline to keep from running home, just to make sure he is all right.

I want my friend to know that everyday routine decisions will no longer be routine.  That a visit to Mc Donald's and a five year old boy's desire to go to the men's room rather than the women's room will become a major dilemma.  That right there, in the midst of clattering trays and screaming children, issues of independence and gender identity will be weighed against the prospect that danger may be lurking in the rest room.

I want her to know that however decisive she may be at the office, she will second-guess herself constantly as a mother.  Looking at my attractive friend, I want to assure her that eventually she will shed the pounds of pregnancy, but will never feel the same about herself.  That her life, now so important, will be of less value to her once she has a child.  That she would give it up in a moment to save her offspring, but will also begin to hope for more years, not so much to accomplish her own dreams, but to watch her child accomplish his.

I want her to know that a cesarean scar or stretch marks will become badges of honor.

My friend's relationship with her husband will change, but not in the ways she thinks.  I wish she could understand how much more you can love a man who is always careful to powder the baby or who never hesitates to play with his son.  I think she should know that she will fall in love with her husband again for reasons she would never have imagined.

I wish my modern friend could sense the bond she will feel with other women throughout history who have tried desperately to stop war and prejudice and drunk driving.

I want to describe to my friend the exhilaration of seeing your son learn to hit a baseball.  I want to capture for her the laugh of a baby who is touching the soft fur of a dog for the first time.  I want her to taste the joy that is so real that it hurts.

My friend's quizzical look makes me realize that tears have formed in my eyes.

"You'll never regret it," I say finally.by Dale Hanson Bourke
Chicken Soup for the Woman's Soul

Are we voyeurs?

Judging by the number of reality shows on TV, the gossip blogs, magazines and even the tenor of the Presidential campaign, I wonder if we have become a society of voyeurs. It would seem that we are obsessed with what someone wore, who they are dating, what they are eating, and who is cheating on whom.

I'd like to invoke the famous line from Rhett Butler in Gone with the Wind, "Frankly my dear, I don't give a damn." I don't want someone to dictate what is good for me or bad for me or how I should live my life. When I vote for someone on "Dancing with the Stars," I vote on talent, not their political, religious or social affiliations.

When I vote for someone to represent me in Congress, I vote for who I believe will do best by my city, state, country. When I vote for President, I vote for who I believe will do the best for this country, based on their abilities, track record and pitch. I don't care who has endorsed them and I don't pay attention to negative ads from their rivals.

I just wish the media at large will be a bit more focused on the issues at hand, not on who cheated on whom, or how rich or poor someone is. It so happens that Jack Kennedy and Bill Clinton will be judged as two of the most successful Presidents of the 20th century. Only those who are obsessed with their personal lives will dwell on the fact that they were both unfaithful to their wives. It is not for us to judge them - it is between them, their spouses and God.

When I go to see a movie, I do so because of the storyline and the actors, regardless of their personal beliefs or political affiliations. Of course, I will admire those who are involved in some humanitarian efforts or some noble calling. But, that will not be the driving factor for me to drop a hard earned dollar on their commercial enterprises.

'Nuf said. I don't give a mouse's hiney about how someone else lives their lives as long as they don't try to force me to live their way. I do love America and those who have fought for our freedom of speech and our freedom of religion and I must confess, I cannot read enough about those valiant men and women who sacrifice much, expecting nothing in return.

What Kind of Tree am I?

I have always been fascinated by trees. I think they have personality - the way they are structured, the way they lean toward the sunlight, the way they react to wind, rain and snow.

Driving through Northern California and New Jersey are particularly interesting for me because of this. I want to pull over and just stand and admire the trees and sit under their shade.

For the first time, I got a chance to see a tree go through its four seasons. Fall in the Garden State was magnificent. The trees were bedecked in their finest colors, like a bevy of women vying for attention at a beauty pageant. The rich tones of reds and golds against the light and shadows were spectacular.

Then came winter, the bare branches covered in snow and ice were now like a bridal gallery with dresses for all sizes and shapes. As the snow melted, and the rains came, the bare trees seemed like a showroom of pallid, naked manequins - reminiscent of a business that was shutting down its doors. Dark brown barks and branches pulled down by the weight of the snow were being cut up for firewood or to be turned into mulch.

As spring softly arrived, nature reminded me of a theatrical production. As if a million wardrobe artists were feverishly sewing on ruffles and buttons, the branches were soon blossoming and blooming. While Fall's colors were more vibrant, Spring's clothesline was more whites and pinks with brighter yellows and greens. Like a well-rehearsed performance, the trees were soon swaying to the music of the chirping birds and the sounds of laughter.

Soon it will be summer - the leaves will take on a deeper hue. More people will be seeking the protection offered by the shade of a tree. Squirrels will be whizzing by, stopping to take an occasional look at something someone has tossed in its direction. There will be picnics and the smell of barbeques blending in with the smell of the acorns, maple and other blossoms. For a brief moment, man and nature will be in unison.

There is a theory that everyone has a seasonal color - that winter people look good in blacks, grays and silver and that spring people look good in pastels. I look good in the jewel tones of Fall and the metallic dark tones of winter. I also think that if I were a tree, I would be a small evergreen. I would survive the seasons, provide a bit of shade and always look toward the sun, even when it doesn't seem to be there.

Have you ever wondered what tree you would be?

Nature vs Nurture

Many years ago, my daughter was born on May 4 by C-section and I had to spend Mother's Day in the hospital. As I held this precious little girl in my arms, I thought she was going to be a replica of me.

Watching her grow, I realized that she wasn't. Her features seemed more like her dad's, her coloring was more like my dad's and her personality seemed more like her dad's too. I must admit that I was a bit surprised.

Off an on, I saw glimpses of me in her - her love for stories, reading and writing ... and her ability to be a spelling ace.

Along came High School - all of a sudden, this shy little girl started imitating movie characters to perfection. She had an uncanny ability to memorize several minutes of dialogue. So, when she chose drama, I was ecstatic because finally there was some inherent talent that she seemed to have inherited from me. She loved it so much, that I encouraged and nurtured this love and I wish her much success in using her natural talents and her winsome personality.

Being a mom has taught me that there are certain things that are natural and certain things that are developed by inculcating an interest. Upon introspection, I have learned that genetics come from both sides and come from a long lineage of traits we love and those we don't want to embrace.

I have also seen first hand that values are caught, not taught. And, like it or not, at some point we do become our mother's daughters.

Mother's Day 2011

A friend of mine sent this to me and I had to share it because I can relate ...

Before I was a Mom,  

I never tripped over toys or forgot words to a lullaby.                       

I didn't worry whether or not my plants were poisonous.

I never thought about immunizations. 

Before I was a Mom, I had never been puked on. Pooped on. Chewed on.. Peed on.                       

I had complete control of my mind and my thoughts. I slept all night. 

Before I was a Mom, I never held down a screaming child so doctors could do tests.  Or give shots. 

I never looked into teary eyes and cried.

I never got gloriously happy over a simple grin.

I never sat up late hours at night watching a baby sleep.                      

Before I was a Mom, I never held a sleeping baby just because I didn't want to put her down.                       

I never felt my heart break into a million pieces when I couldn't stop the hurt.                       

I never knew that something so small could affect my life so much.

I never knew that I could love someone so much. 

I  never knew I would love being a Mom.                        

Before I was a Mom,I didn't know the feeling of having my heart outside my body..                       

I didn't know how special it could feel to feed a hungry baby. 

I didn't know that bond between a mother and her child.                       

I didn't know that something so small could make me feel so important and happy. 

Before I was a Mom, I had never gotten up in the middle of the night every 10 minutes to make sure all was okay.                       

I had never known the warmth, the joy, the love, the heartache, the wonderment or the satisfaction of being a Mom.                       

I didn't know I was capable of feeling so much, before I was a Mom 

I echo every sentiment in there and no matter how old my children get, they will always be my kids, and I will worry about their safety and happiness.

What are your thoughts?