“Considering What If”

By Kevin F. Wishon

To the child I never had, I ask myself, how can I prepare you for the future? I know the world I’ve grown up in and how it functions. However, despite my sincerest desire, I cannot prepare you for all the possibilities that may come. I do not know everything. Furthermore, there is a chance only a fraction of what I can tell you will be applicable in the years to come. Many things have changed in rapid succession over the past one hundred years. Looking forward, I suspect that the pace of change will only continue to increase.

Whatever may come, accept that change will be the one constant in your life. Embrace change and expect it to visit you often. It can be the monster you dread or the stranger you eagerly await. You can remain psychologically strong by preparing yourself both mentally and physically for change. Waves of change will threaten your sandcastle often, and inescapable calamities may scour the seashore of your life. Yet, part of life’s personal growth is the ability to reconcile your mind to change. We are all susceptible to the probability of change. It’s a certainty in our lives.

In all of this, there will be tears. I assure you, if you live very long there will be plenty to grieve over in this life. If there are enjoyable times, you can be sure there will be hard times. In due course, you will lose something or someone dear, and there will be tears. On the other hand, there are joyous times. If we must mourn in the times of sorrow, I have concluded we must celebrate and be grateful for all of the good that comes into our lives.

No one is perfect, no matter how high you may place them upon a pedestal of honor. They may be a dear family member or the mentor who has changed your life, but even then, they are capable of disappointing you. People are just people no matter what position they may occupy in your life. You must accept this fact and realize people rarely change. The only person you can honestly change is yourself and your attitude. This aspect is key to remaining resolute when disillusionment threatens to swallow you.

Anger is a force, and you must control it. It can be self-destructive when you focus on what others have done against you. However, when channeled in an artistic, athletic, or academic manner it can generate growth beyond your natural progression. Also, anger can communicate to others where your line of tolerance lies, but even then, be slow to anger. Regrettable words slip from our lips when we allow anger to control us. Instead, practice forgiveness as often as you can. On the surface, forgiveness seems to give the offender a pass, but it actually sets a suffering prisoner free. The prisoner set free is you when you forgive.

Lastly, forgive me if I have not given you all the tools you need to navigate this life. As I said above, I do not know it all. Life experiences and mentors may have to give you the knowledge I do not have. Additionally, there may be situations you may face going forward I have never experienced. In this situation, you will have to judge the matter for yourself. Even so, if you apply the previously mentioned advice to your life, I am confident you will handle most situations with grace and wisdom. Do not try to be me. Try to be better than me. If you honestly try, then I am proud of you.

“Travelogue”

By Marie Craig

I still have my storybooks from when I was a child.  I have several from a series about Uncle Wiggly.  He was a talking, walking, dressed-up rabbit who was always leaving on an adventure to seek his fortune.  Misadventure seemed to call very often.  These stories were a delight to share as one of my parents read a chapter to me at night before bed.  What joy as I think about how special I was to have two parents who cared greatly for me.

I thought this was a very remote topic of traveling, but in the years since then, I’ve realized that leaving on an adventure is an everyday occurrence.  When I back out of my garage every day, who knows what experiences I’ll have, who I will meet, or what joys or problems I’ll encounter.

Many other books have this theme of travel.  The Hobbit was on a journey.  Others that come to mind are the Wizard of Oz, Grapes of Wrath, The Door in the Wall, and the recent series of five books I just read by Richard Paul Evans.  The main character had a series of hardships — his wife died, his partner stole his business, and he lost all his material possessions in bankruptcy.  So he decided to walk from Seattle to Key West, Florida.  The description of scenery and other characters was interesting but more important was witnessing how he mellowed and changed for the better in personality and how he learned to care for other people deeply and to serve them.

Hopefully, as I travel through life, I’m changing for the better.  Instead of following a rigid itinerary, I’m trying to chill out and see where this adventure leads me.

“Innocent Times”

By Gaye Hoots

When I hear the news of today and the stories of children being snatched, abused, and killed, I become nostalgic. I remember riding my bike several miles to basketball practice when I was about twelve or thirteen years old. I had walked to the elementary school a time or two when I was much younger, but this was without my parent’s knowledge. Once I was stopped and questioned by a man much older than my father. He asked if I knew where he could buy some liquor.

     We had no TV when I was very young, but I heard whispered stories of a farm family with several children, and how the wife and children were affected by the father’s frequent bouts of drinking. By the time I was twelve years old a classmate of mine had shot his mother. He was a quiet, well-mannered boy who never got into arguments at school. The story was that the mother would sometimes leave for days at a time. She would go with anyone who offered her alcohol. My classmate had attempted to stop her by holding his father’s shotgun on her to prevent her from leaving. We were told she grabbed the barrel of the gun to take it from her son when it discharged killing her.

     There was a murder in our community of a man who worked for my father. They lived near us and had small children. My father found Brock in a graveyard and summoned help, but he died at the hospital. The crime was never solved.

     One evening when I was riding the school bus home, a boy who was in high school grabbed me and pulled at my underclothes. He was a special needs student. I announced to the bus driver what he had done. The next morning one of the teachers questioned me and listened to what I told her. I don’t know how she handled it, but he never touched me again.

      When I was in the fifth grade, a girl had been held back because she missed so many days of school. She was no more than twelve years old. When she had been absent a few days, I asked the teacher if she was sick. Our teacher said, “She won’t be coming back to school. She got married.’ It was impossible for me to comprehend this at that age.

     Maybe the “good old days” weren’t as innocent as we remembered them after all.