From the Age of Innocence.......Sunrise

From the Age of Innocence.........Sunrise

Daybreak, an awakening, Mother Nature has cleansed her earth.  It's sound, sights and smells, unique to the moment darkness subsides and a faint glow of light shimmers on the horizon.  Listen and perhaps you'll hear the stirrings of a new day; breathe in the freshness of the early morning air and let it awaken your body and soul, peer into the fading darkness and bare witness the dawn of a new day. It invigorates your entire being!

As a child, fascinated by the sunrise, I'd wake early to view the still sleeping earth beneath my bedroom's cottage windows.  Much like shutters, these windows pulled open, allowing imagination to grow, dream and observe an ever changing and growing world.  The swaying weeping willow tree consuming most of the front yard allowed concealment and I was perched high in the tree tops, watching squirrels begin their morning foraging and birds feeding their growing offspring, the dawning of a new day, awe inspiring.  

During colder months, I'd close the bedroom door, pull open the windows and watch the stillness and beauty of the early morning snows, drifts creating an eery pattern in the frozen landscape, my weeping willow laden with the heavy snows, creaking, shivering yet protecting her small inhabitants nestled deep within her gnarly branches. Looking up, I'd watch delicate snow flakes fall gently to earth, no sound, no smell just the beauty of a frozen world, asleep, rejuvenating, ready to emerge as a warming sunshine rose above the horizon.  

Occasionally I crawl quietly back to my warm bed, windows closed, I lay still waiting for the house to awaken.  During this time, my mind filled with ideas, I couldn't wait for the rest to wake up.  My father, an early riser would make breakfast and conversation, waiting for the rest.  Thinking back, I must have drove him insane, I now understand, the beauty of the early morning quiet solitude, he never once complained, he listened, offered opinions and encouraged, but be too loved the time the earth awakens and the quiet softness of a new day.  We shared if often, unfortunately his quiet time shattered by a young and inquisitive child.

From the Age of Innocence..........the Wisdom of Mem

From the Age of Innocence...........the Wisdom of Mem!

Every kid in the neighborhood, knew Mem......she was iconic. Loving, understanding, quick tempered, a no nonsense personality, you always knew where you stood with her.  Short in stature with a softness in those loving eyes, Memere Delia better known as Mem, was the best grandmother.

Married at barely eighteen, the era of her youth considered the young woman past the marrying age, she was a "spinster." As the oldest daughter in a family that would eventually have sixteen kids, Mem's role was clearly defined; cook, clean, babysit, be a Mom.  Although she relished the role, her spirited nature yearned for the open road.  

As a single Mom of two, the depression years took their toll on family life.  Mem and her husband parted ways, Mem saying, "he gave me two beautiful kids, I want nothing more from that bastard!"  It wasn't until my early teen years, more personal info about the man would be shared.

Mem travelled far to find work. Her children in a boarding school, she did what she had to.  By today's standards, she was a personal chef, fact is the woman worked long hard hours, cooking for the "well to do."  No shame, just toughened the woman.  As times seemingly became better, she became more determined.  She returned home, kids no longer in boarding school, her mother and siblings, assisting with child care, it was now one big happy family.

Although my grandmother still spent an enormous amount of time away from her children, time spent in their company was nurturing, loving and by all accounts, quality. Mem's son, Roland, succumbed to polio, age ten much too young, his passing left deep wounds within my mother and grandmother's hearts.  

Life moves forward at a furious pace, times changed, economic outlook brightened, Mem found work close to home, her only child, my mother, forever thankful, her prayers answered. Continuing to live under her parents roof, Mem's younger brothers, became surrogate brothers to my mother; funny how blessed one can be!

Her childhood years filled with responsibilities, Mem, never had the opportunity to experience childhood, those years developed much to quickly. Yet, with the move back to her mother's house, she had the opportunity to grow with her only daughter.  They shared a bond like no other.  In later years as a grandmother, her playfulness, wit and street wise charm, passed lovingly to her granddaughters.

Always quick to offer her opinion, her mind remained sharp, she was an open-minded modern woman, evolving with the times.  Health issues plagued her but her wisdom was amazing.  She felt if she had to do it all over again, she'd work twice as hard and play even harder.  Her siblings often asking her opinion, they cherished her wisdom. Speaking with her younger sister after Mem's passing, she reminded me of my grandmother's wisdom and what she had accomplished.  She too missed the woman she said, she had a "wisdom beyond her years!"

Recently a much younger peer approached me asking for an opinion. After answering her questions, sorting all possibilities, she smiled and offered a thank you!" I always know you will be there and assist me, right, wrong or indifferent, you have years of experience and such wisdom!"  I hadn't thought of my opinions being full of wisdom and I secretly smiled knowing I might have listened to Mem and trusted her judgment.  As my peer turned and walked away, I smiled, sighed and quietly whispered, "thanks Mem, love and miss you bunches!"

From the Age of Innocence......Through the Eyes of a Princess

From the Age of Innocence........Through the Eyes of a Princess

People from all over our world pass through the gates of the most magical place on earth each day. Whether a child or adult, they anticipate the extraordinary.  Their reactions, especially those of a child, are nothing short of extraordinary.  

Princess Chelsea, an amazingly precocious four year old, attempting to get all fingers in elbow length formal white gloves, her older sibling noticing the difficulty, assists.  Gloves properly in place, our young Princess convenes her court.  When asked to name her favorite Princess, she declines. Each day, for whatever reason, Princess Chelsea allows a different Princess center court billing.  Chelsea's role, make everyone smile, be happy, "like the song," she shouts, then begins to sing.

We assume Chelsea has a back story, perhaps after lunch it will surface.  Over the course of the next hour, we watch without being obtrusive, her family dotes, Chelsea's antics, amusing, she is currently dawdling with her food, her grandmother encourages and with a wave of her "Magic Wand," our Princess magically transforms her food into make believe medicine that will "make her better!"

At four, Chelsea has been disease free for almost two years, prior to this sudden vacation, the stretch ended. Chelsea wanted to visit the Princesses, they make her smile, each day the family videos her visits, Chelsea watches these over and over, she is perfecting the wave.  With distant strains of music reaching her ears, "here comes the parade, hurry!"  She is now on a mission.  Telling the family it will pass by right in front, they take up residence in a shady viewing area, our Princess wannabe getting a lofty view from Dad's shoulders, "she is a wanderer," her mother softly smiles.

A warm muggy afternoon, Chelsea's impatience is now morphing into sleep, resting her little body flopped against her Dad's head, she softly reminds him, "wake me when you see a Princess any Princess,  Daddy!"  He assures her, for the moments she rests. Mom still videoing the on coming parade, "just in case the little one should miss the festivities."

Chelsea does not like needles, she fights, even the Magic Wand is rendered useless.  Her grandmother continues the story," it is our hope theses videos will make her smile, she will remember the happy days and take her medicine.  It is a bargaining tool, hopefully one strong enough so Chelsea won't cry and fight.

For now she's awake, mesmerized by the passing carriage, waving her hand in perfect synchronization wIth the Princess passing bye.  Sometimes little glitches turn into amazing miracles, for a brief moment, the parade stops and as the Princess looks at the small child on daddy's shoulders, Chelsea' eyes overflow with tears , they are tears of joy.  As her Princess waves and throws kisses, Chelsea makes believe she's catching them and begins singing "don't worry be happy!" Her family smiles, Chelsea smiles, " made you smile Mommy, that's my job!"

From the Age of Innocence......Ode to the Grass!

From the Age of Innocence...........Ode to the Grass!

As the sun rises above the horizon, water droplets cover, nourish and cleanse the earth becoming sparkling prisms, softly hugging the contrasting colors of green as the earth awakens each new day and with it, life emerges from this sea of green. Regardless of our age, it never ceases to amaze, whether pleasurably or a strong feeling of dislike, particularly when lawn maintenance is a chore.

As children, we eagerly awaited the late day showers of summer vacation months.  It not only provided a much needed cool down for all living things, but also created new possibilities during lazy hazy afternoon playtime.  Water, not yet absorbed by the thirsty roots, made an excellent place to splash, it's refreshing coolness and rejuvenated blades of grass against our summer tanned skin, created a personal spa.  A grassy slippery slope was also a fun way to spend time out in the afternoon summer rain once threatening skies turned to soft rain showers. The only downside of such refreshing fun, tremendous grass stains!

Much like the smell of summertime rain, fresh mowed grass awakens all senses.  Visually delightful, fresh scented and soft to the touch, it provides one of many happy  memories from my youthful years. Sitting under the apple trees in the backyard with neighborhood friends, perhaps munching on "Kool-Aid" ice pops or lying on your back, the softness of the green grasses embracing you. Watching the clouds softly float by, thoughts of such fancy free moments are most pleasurable, bringing a slight smile to our faces and a warmth within our heart.  Living in Florida, with its manicured year round greenery, the sights are comforting and enjoyable, although grass texture is a bit different from the New England lawns of my youth.  We now sit outside in the darkness of the evening, the earth begins to cool, the relentless day time scorching  from the Florida summer sun, now sleeps for the night. Continuing to make memories, we share the stories of past summer fun and agree, one should never lie in the Florida grasses. A decision based on the army of ants surfacing from beneath the soft green carpet, after recent torrential summer rains!

From the Age of Innocence..........Your Peas Please

From the Age of Innocence...........Your Peas Please

Most children, pretty fussy when it comes to trying and liking new foods.  As reactions go, I'd like to think my reaction to peas will go down in the history books a childhood dislikes. "Mom, I ate peas at Teresa's house last night,"the last word out of my mouth, realization set in, I was in a pile of..............!  

Years pass, taste evolves although my aversion to canned peas has not, preference is fresh, fresh and nothing but fresh.  As with most veggies, visual pleasure just as important as taste. Canned peas of youth, olive drab in color, mushy in texture, the odor reminiscent of something slightly spoiled and despite the passage of time, pinpointing the smell still remains a mystery.

If ever there was a traumatic food moment in my life, peas or should I say the one solitary pea that sat on my dinner plate for nearly two hours, qualifies as traumatic, as does the gagging reflex once it finally slipped down my throat.  For the record, it was never digested and probably holds the record for reappearance time once consumed.

Watching Andrew Zimmerman of "Bizarre Foods,"  I am awestruck and jealousy consumes my being, sometimes life is so unfair!  Should he find a food distasteful, nostrils may flair, but never a regurgitated projectile or least not televised.

Once in the grocery store checkout line, impulse items adorn every space of the narrow aisle leading to unloading area.  Magazines meant for purchase are read and re-read, hoping for inspiration. As the summer months wane, pages are filled with colorful recipes from nature's bounty, mostly healthy options, veggies prepared to visually dazzle and tantalize the tastebuds.  In my youth this might have assisted my brain in the fight between visualization, mushy taste and that distasteful smell!

From the Age of Innocence........A Lesson of Endurance

From the Age of Innocence..........A Lesson of Endurance

Page after page of Aa Bb Cc on triple lined extra wide penmanship paper, blisters bulging from the death grip of little fingers around an extra thick lead pencil, touted as "your first pencil!"  No eraser, larger circumference than upper grade pencils, considered a "miracle pencil" although not particularly user friendly, first graders endured the grueling task of learning, producing and reproducing the alphabet until the teacher deemed it either perfect or perhaps sufficient torture had been endured.  Allowed to take our "school work" home, it adorned the front of the refrigerator until either the next letter was learned or the wrinkled document mysteriously disappeared.

Having an older sibling, definitely benefited my learning.  What she practiced at home, I mimicked.  If she wrote, I wrote, if she read...I attempted and yes, it was beneficial until it was required learning.  Perhaps boredom wasn't as bad as it seemed, class room windows large and in warmer weather, opened, allowing springtime freshness to permeate the air.  A great atmosphere for afternoon daydreaming much to the annoyance of the teacher.

As the school years progressed, movement into the next grade level, penmanship still an important part of the learning plan, cursive much more exciting and expressive than plain old block print.  Large, three lined writing paper, now passé, eraser topped slim lined pencils made those curly lined letters so much easier, one could express themselves so much more, much to the chagrin of the educator walking the aisle between desks, pointer in hand as if a fine arts class was in session. Unfortunately my cursive interpretation of the letter "A" bore no resemblance to the example on the blackboard.

Looking back, perhaps these teachings were necessary. Some say your signature is indicative of your personality, we won't go there.  It was also said messy handwriting belonged to doctors, I must be an exception.  If this be true, pharmacists are brilliant, although mistakes do happen; they tell you what the pill should look like, just in case.

Cursive may soon be a thing of the past, news ways to express oneself will always evolve. With technology moving forward at lightening speed, a mere point and click, perfect penmanship every time, Totally embracing all technology, with no ill-feelings of what I had to endure eons ago, the only possible conclusion is, "I was born at least a half century too early!"

From the Age of Innocence..........A Colorful Memory

From the Age of Innocence..........A Colorful Memory

Mary Blair was an American artist, born in Oklahoma in 1911; although her name is not widely known, her works have injected vivid color, profound meaning and through diverse interpretations creates joyful, happy and most assuredly pleasant and lasting memories for millions.

First introduced to the art of Mary Blair in 1964 at the New York World's Fair, her brightly colored characters, wide-eyed, smiling children from around the globe, made "It's a Small World," a very lasting memory, a reminder the children of the world are this planet's future. As adults, we tend to forget the implications of our actions; in our minds they are justified.  However, these very same actions in the eyes of our children,  become learned behaviors.  

Some of Mary Blair's earlier art works includes a brief stint on Disney's Dumbo, an earlier version of Lady and the Tramp and a second version of Fantasia titled "Baby Ballet," release in the late 1990's, long after her death. All these childhood films created happiness and a sense of goodness and well being, Mary Blair is and was an artist extraordinaire!

Occasional visits to Disney World's Magic Kingdom, sans the crowds, to this day, creates the same sense of inner peace within my being. The age of innocence abounds, adults experiencing the world of magic through the eyes of the children and if only for a moment in time, are free from a world of worry. 

Bold colors, smiling faces, whimsically painted animals, entice all, while Mary Blair's legacy continues to delights all ages.  It reminds us to smile, be happy and understand the cultures of the world and it begins through the eyes of the future, our children!

From the Age of Innocence..........Politics

From the Age of Innocence............Politics

Entering the homestretch of a nearly two year presidential campaign, I've tried to recall earlier political seasons as a much younger and much less politically savvy human being.  Religion keeps returning to the forefront, therefore it must be JFK.  "He's the first Irish Catholic President," the parents smiles were their signature of approval, nothing else mattered and as a child it meant, all was well in our world and then..........?

Through the teen years, my recollection is a society in turmoil; the parents protected our youth, answering all questions without bias.  As a former Marine, one would have thought my father would never question his government regarding conflict.  He was torn, he was thankful and praised his country, regardless of how he felt.  "Take nothing for granted, question everything and know your path if the answer is undesirable. He always voted, "don't forget, it's your right, it's what many have fought and died for."

Over the years, he voiced his opinion of those in office, at times, less than flattering, each conversation, thought provoking; always reminding, "you can do, you can be whatever you want, settle for nothing less."  His guidance and continued approval, my right of passage to adulthood. 

So......conversations get tucked away, life and it's lessons continue, current events plucking them from the farthest recesses of the brain, the poignant one from the heart. Political conventions for this election year, now history. Conversations with my father, have been recalled, "don't forget, it's your right, it's what many have fought and died for." 

Whether a right of passage into adulthood or someone who has recently become a citizen, choices may be difficult, but there are choices.  Many do not have them, use your choices wisely,  "Take nothing for granted, question everything and know your path if the answer is undesirable." Whether it's one person's decision or a decision decided by the masses, it leads to change.  From the Age of Innocence I learned, "life is all about teaching and learning, we are all teachers;  there is a lesson plan for each and everyone, " never stop learning, listening and participating.

From the Age of Innocence.........The Front Porch

From the Age of Innocence............The Front Porch

A recent social media posting "bring back the front porch" conjured up all sorts of childhood memories.  Mostly cherished, other's although learning experiences, must also be remembered.  

Living mid way up the hill, the stately Victorian we called home, was the first house on this quaint tree-lined cul-de-sac called Sunnyside. It's expansive yard, old attached barn, a treat for the neighborhood gang.  Yet, it was the front porch of this enormous home, that stood out as a neighborhood amenity.  

Warm summer breezes turned to awesome summer nights, the friends gathered on the porch, record player, (age related) and old  forty-five record singles, could be heard each night, shortly after darkness.  Call it a coming of age, it was where all gathered, socialized, realized, yes realized, these gathering of childhood would soon end.  Each year, a new face replaced one who had moved into the post adolescent stage, ones now allowed to venture farther than the front porch, beyond parental control.  It was also where whispered discussions took place.  

Secret conversations, brought to light by the younger siblings of former "porch gatherers!"  Pauly cautiously whispers, "Henry is grounded for a week!" We can only surmise the reason, perhaps he'll return to the front porch with his tales of woe. Regardless, conversation turns to sensationalism, appropriate fantasies formed, we need to find out from Henry, "Pauly get your brother, maybe the truth will reveal itself!" 

Perhaps the precursor to reality TV! Chaperones within earshot reminding this immature front porch crew, "conversation over or meeting place will be closed for the same week Henry's been grounded!" Not willing to risk secret conversation, pre-teen hormonal changes and conversation regarding such, we crank the music louder, gaze towards the stars, smack mosquitoes, search the blackness for lightening bugs and marvel at the summertime world seen through the eyes of the motley tween group, innocently anticipating life beyond the front porch with amazing and unbridled excitement!

From the Age of Innocence.........An Irritating Phobia!

From the Age of Innocence.............An Irritating Phobia

It's summer, we've spent an enormous amount of time outside this morning, the earth looking totally refreshed from the rains the previous evening, a steamy eery looking fog slowly rising, trying to block out the relentless sunshine, leaving the earth shrouded in a damp coolness.  We watch in awe as the swallow tailed kites, feeding in flight, seemed to swoop in a synchronized ballet, their graceful movements seem effortless.

For most of my life, Ornithophobia, better known as the fear of birds, has plagued my being.  Not so much when in the outside world, but should one invade my inside privacy, I will be the one to quickly vacate.  Strange how my inquisitive nature has removed certain fears, I now stop to observe birds of prey and wading birds, whether inflight, nurturing their young, wading or simply feeding.

What was I thinking, "I want a parakeet for my birthday!"  Was it the spoiled baby of the family crying out, wanting the same request granted as her older sibling? I'd like to think so, but a lesson quickly learned, "think before you speak!"  This continues to be a daily struggle. On the flip side, my appreciation for the numerous winged and feathered friends in my world is something of a new found wonder, whether it be the graceful swans, rose feathered spoonbills, the majestic bald eagles or the blood red cardinals, they bring a certain balance and mood adjusting serenity into my daily world.

Whether it was the immature child within wanting same privileges or some early attempt to bring this ridiculous phobia to the forefront, I now realize it is all about balance, living in harmony with all people and the creatures that inhabit this tiny planet is a necessity for survival of everything; with time, patience and education all things are possible..............but please don't land on my shoulder!

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From the Age of Innocence.........Holiday in the Heavens

From the Age of Innocence...............A Holiday in the Heavens

Summertime on this tropical peninsula, blistering heat, relentless sun, and afternoon thunderstorms create some of the most amazing rainbows and fresh scents, sending one's senses into a whirlwind of pleasure...........for some.  

It's just past three in the afternoon, days's must do list is completed, or close enough; it's been more than a typical July in central Florida. Hot, hazy and God-awful humid!  Sitting out on the porch, I am thoroughly enjoying the cooling of the earth, a raging thunderstorm, wind gusts of who knows what speed, just elated there is movement in the atmosphere; soon all creatures will appear for their afternoon shower, the breeze will return to it's summertime softness, just enough to dampen and cool all creatures beneath the canopy.

My mind drifts back to childhood, sitting on the big front porch, promising not to leave it,"don't want to get electrocuted!"  At that early age, not sure what it actually meant, but when the message was relayed, "don't leave the porch, you'll get electrocuted," it put the fear of God in my soul, so on the porch I stayed!

My Grandmother hated thunderstorms, says she was "nearly electrocuted!"  In later years, I learned she'd been indirectly struck by lightening, giving her a lasting jolt and rightly so.  Wanting to understand her fears, we asked questions, slowly she realized, her hatred of these storms was instilling an ominous and needless fear in her granddaughters. "Must be a holiday in the heavens, or a bowling tournament!"she nervously smiles.

Her story line for these chest-thumping cracks rolling across the heavens, not believable, but it lightened her mood, eventually looking forward to sitting on the porch with us, enjoying the stories, the smell of rain and the cleansing of the earth. As the rains stopped, we'd hunt for spider webs, in awe of their intricate designs and ability to survive a raging storm.  Bikes out of the barn, we'd pedal as fast as we could through the refreshing streams moving swiftly downhill to the river.  Emerald green grasses rejuvenated, and nothing quite as exciting as sliding down a slippery cool grassy slope once the "holiday in the heavens, bowling tournament finished!"

From the Age of Innocence........."Mom did your belly get fat..When?"

From the Innocence of Youth........."Mom did your belly get fat..when?"

Seems all the kids in my neighborhood had a Mom who was going to have a baby.  Actually, now that I think about it, it was probably only two, but at the time, all I wanted.......a baby in the house! Somehow, I knew they came from Mom's belly, didn't have a clue of how the baby got there.  Being an extremely naive seven year old in 1959, not knowing such things was normal, or at least I'd like to think so. Asking best friend Teresa, only added to frustrations, she didn't have a clue either.....or she'd been sworn to secrecy.  Regardless, I did not know, but this very stubborn and overly determined seven year old, was now on a mission.

Perhaps timing is everything, waiting for the exact moment to ask, weighing all options,  asking at the dinner table.........a serious blunder. A learning experience, perhaps, in retrospect, it would have been nice to capture the moment on a cell phone. For the record, I did not receive the answer on that particular evening, however, it must have been weighing heavily on the parents' mind. As a parent myself, the infinite wisdom we supposedly possess, is sometimes put to the test.  My parents understood the inquisitive mind of their seven year old, redirection was a necessity. 

My sister and I always knew we were adopted or perhaps I don't remember not knowing.  Our parents always told us we were special, again I don't remember what being "un-special" felt like. Expectations of good behavior, listening and respecting adults, always doing our best, all seemed quite normal and "un-special," every kid in the neighborhood was held to the same expectations.  Teresa and I talked about this; she was a middle child and by all accounts, that was special; older brothers had to take care of younger siblings and baby sister was coddled.  The only downside of being the youngest, she was not old enough to participate in older child playtime........being the "baby" of our family, understanding of this privilege afforded to hierarchy of birth order was easy....not acceptable, but easy.

 

The concept of time for this seven year old was one of the few edicts of childhood I actually understood.  Being told the baby stays in the mother's belly nine months, cool that was one month longer than the span from my birthday until Christmas. This I understood;  exactly eight months after my birthday, I got presents again and at nine months after my birthday, my sister received her birthday presents.   Cool, got it Mom!  Redirection appeared to be moving along successfully.

For most of my life, needing to know "the reason behind the why"  labelled me as an inquisitive mind.  "Mom if I didn't come from your belly, were did I come from?" Seeing the look of "I told you so"  being exchanged between the parents, I knew I'd struck a nerve, it was going to go either way; I'd get the explanation I'd been searching for or the "pile of poop" I was so often in, would rear its ugly head......again!

I'd learned, we were brought home from the hospital, my sister first and fifteen months later, I arrived.  Both were labelled "gifts from God," hence the reason we were special. At seven years old, the thought of questioning gifts from the Almighty, unthinkable. The answer sufficed my curiosity. What I did learn, but did not realize for many years........my parents were the special people, gifts to two small girls who lives may never have intertwined, except they were each granted not one, but two gifts for God, Mom and Dad.

From the Age of Innocence...........A Pile of Poop!

From the Innocence of Youth.......A Pile of Poop

Peering innocently from behind the white picket fence, eyes fixated on the solitary stooped and dirty figure making his way up the hill towards "my yard," the innocence of youth fully consuming my inquisitive four year old being, "hey mister, where you going?" It must of been at this early age I realized the need to develop "my outside vocal cords," the dirty tattered figure ignoring me, continuing his slow progression up the long steep hill, towards the neighborhood of tidy little homes, along the long and narrow maple tree lined street, located in a quaint New England village called Yantic.  Not a care in world, looking for a friend, I slowly made my way towards the rose laden trellis, 

Actually a once thriving textile mill village, the "neighborhood" sat at the mid point of a long winding hill, our house, a Victorian-style building with a tremendous yard, a picket fence just tall enough to hide a short inquisitive and impatient four year old with very large brown eyes, who once again was preparing to ask the old hermit, "hey mister, where you going?" My second attempt, successful, maybe not visually but, the old guy new he'd heard something, just wasn't quite sure where and who it came from.  Stopping in his tracks, he peered slowly in the direction of the loud mouth, whose vocal chords had come to life quickly.  "Show yourself child," he demanded, his glare trying to pierce the wooden fence.  Bouncing back the same piercing stare as the old man, the innocence of youth firmly entrenched in my being, I swiftly ran to the trellis area,"hey mister, I'm up here, come on up?" "Come to to me child," the old voice cracking, fully winded from his slow jaunt up the hill."I can't, my Mom says do not leave the yard, you come here, Mom is cooking some good stuff, are you hungry mister?"

Walking through the back door into the large kitchen, screen door slamming, the next few moments happening so quickly, it was almost surreal. Mom, quite the tidy housekeeper, always glanced towards the door to remind anyone who walked into her kitchen, "remove your shoes!" I'd already warned the old man in tow she'd demand that, what I didn't know was "Mom had spunk" as well as a death grip now closing tightly upon my small being, letting me know I was in a pile a poop.  I actually felt quite bad for the old man being battered by this fiery, short tempered woman wielding a long wooden spoon, which at this point, most assuredly resembled a baseball bat, as he tried to grab his smelly old shoes, Mom hit a home run, I learned some new words I'd never heard spoken in our house before and even in the innocence of youth, I knew I was "in a pile of shit!" And.......that was right from Mom's mouth.

From the Age of Innocence..........It is Hope

From the Age of Innocence...................It is Hope!

Diane Hastings

Recent events, a stark reminder of the negativity engulfing our planet.  "Is our world unraveling?"  Only if we allow it. "Why are we faced with such negativity?"  Because we not only allow it, we thrive on it.  Society has been beaten into submission, forced to embrace all things negative.  It hasn't happened swiftly, it has evolved.  What has happened swiftly, is the ability to learn of all things negative around our world almost before it happens.  Will society survive all of this?  Our planet's future is unbiased conversation, it is wide-eyed innocence, it is a belief anything can be fixed, if we allow it and it is in the hands of our children.

A 3.7 magnitude earthquake off the coast of Florida today, a jolting reminder of the devastating 2010 earthquake that destroyed a large part of Haiti.  One of the poorest countries in earth, it is still recovering.  Almost one year later, I met a charming little boy, a charismatic five year old personality, his ability to socialize, his wide-eyed innocence, refreshing.  Full of joy, bubbling with exuberant news, my young friend had a message to share. His trust of society, unwavering, he never questioned why, instead he asked why not. 

He knew the story of Haiti, his parents had shared it.  He was saddened people died, they had no homes, no food, no family. Did he understand, probably not, but he understood his parents role in all of this, he trusted their judgment and he was elated. He had a new sister, he wanted the world to know.  His parents' sadness and concerns for another society's hardships and struggles were met with a positive attitude.  He accepted their challenge, he embraced it with unwavering love, he would not question why.........he had purpose, he was going to be a big brother.

As the story unfolded, I learned she had come from Haiti.  Adopted because her parents died, she was about eight months old. Her new "Mommy and Daddy" and big brother had just arrived back on U.S. soil.  As missionaries, they had flown in to assist immediately after the 2010 earthquake, it's toll had left an indelible mark on their lives.  Determined to try and make a better life for the Haitian people, they continue to help with the rebuilding  process in Haiti. The explanation continued, a better life for this child, a new beginning, just one step at a time.  Wanting more children, but understanding the needs of an orphaned child, they accepted her as their own.  For my new found friend, no jealousy, just a natural sibling love and a new role in his life, a big brother. He was proud, proud of his role, proud of his baby sister.........."her name is Hope, it's just as pretty as her," he beams with pride.  "Do you know why we named her Hope?" His wide eyed age of innocence shining through, I quietly smile and whispered......"yes, yes I do!"