HAPPY DAWNING DAY

Babies do not specifically select the date and time of their birth, unless you believe in numerology. They are born when they are ripe and ready, under duress due to a medical condition or else when the parent’s choose a cesarean extraction. I was born on a winter’s day as a result of a lusty summer’s coupling.

My mom always made a big deal out of birthdays. She would have a card and a small gift at breakfast time. Provide warm bread or another treat upon the birthday girl’s arrival home from school and the requisite cake for supper. If the child had acceptable grades and good behavior, we would venture out for a special meal, which was an unusual occurrence. My favorite restaurant was the Lavender Inn in Faribault, MN. It was fancy, smelled great, wonderful food, and contained an art gallery. Granted, most of the artwork was overwrought but I loved looking at the different styles. I was an art critic at an early age.

The past few years have been difficult. Mom had trouble remembering the dates and wasn’t always sure if she had children. Four years ago she stopped being able to cook, three years ago she wasn’t able to send cards, two years ago she had to be prompted who I was to even wish me “Happy Birthday” over the telephone. When I visited near my birthday last year I don’t think that she knew who I was and slept most of the day.

It was especially difficult this year. I had to attend an event for work and keep my emotions in check throughout the day. I had to focus on the job. Every time I thought about her I cried so I shed a lot of tears after work. I volunteered that night at my faith community and was honored by so many people who were concerned and gave me hugs. Again, I heard many stories about people who had “lost” the people who made them. Lost, what an asinine euphemism! I didn’t misplace my mother; she died last fall. She will not be found again on this plane of existence.

A lot of people sent me messages via Facebook. That is nice but I still prefer a physical card. A few people called, which was also nice. The day after my birthday I was surprised at work with a balloon, cake, and flowers from my co-workers. I cried again. They were kinder than I expected. My friends were sweet and took me out for lunch a few days later. They plied me with cute cards and gifts. I began to weep out of gratitude. I am so fortunate to have a support network. I wish that we would communicate and get together more frequently. It is better to have a party than a funeral.

Please reach out to those you hold dear. Meeting them in person is best, but a call is also good. Don’t rely upon social media, texting, or sharing photos as a substitute for a relationship. Humans are social creatures; we need healthy and stable relationships to thrive. Call your Mom and Dad (if you can) today!

Call home.
Copyright © 2014 by Ima B. Musing; All rights reserved

ROYAL POOP

IT’S A … does the gender really matter? Third in line to the throne, who cares? What is important is that the child and mother are healthy and that they can live a happy life. They need adequate food, water, shelter, safety, and access to medical care. The child should attend school for free to learn how to read, write, and do basic arithmetic. Hopefully, there is the option for a bright student to further their education to obtain a high school diploma and attend college.

There has been too hype about the British Royal Birth. I do not care. I wish them well, as with all births. They are mere humans, just as we are ALL mere humans. Their pooh smells as bad as everyone else’s. The bestowment of “royalty” is arbitrary. Some ancient relative procured the title and it is handed down to biological heirs. Leadership is not a hereditary trait. We have seen many, many, many examples of that throughout history. Remember W? All "crown heads" should be absolved. Let them just be ordinary people.

Sadly, there are myriad examples of modern day dynasties around the world. A military leader or political leader with military/armed personnel backing overthrows the government and declares himself or herself the President or Prime Minister or Great Leader. They may actually start out well but eventually they fear losing power so they clamp down and harm their own people (Syria, North Korea, et al). They will start a new line of “royalty” by passing along their title to a child. Pitiful. The elite may benefit from this arrangement but the general public suffers.

It’s good to focus on a positive event. However, it would be nice to balance the attention and help ordinary kids in need. For every dollar spent on Royal Birth stuff, two dollars should be donated to charities that help pregnant women and infants. That would have a real impact on the world. Aid the kids who need it the most.

All pooh smells the same.
Copyright © 2013 by Ima B. Musing; All rights reserved.