And they are all our kids. I recently saw one of those poor kids I mentored as a child. I didn't recognize him at first because he was grown up but he spotted me right away. The first thing he did was give me a big hug. Fifteen years later, he remembered.
We will all remember the love and care and gestures of kindness. Gestures of kindness preserve your humanity....preserve humanity.
Don't let the myth of economics that rules the world...the worship of economics..economic making it...cheapen your soul.
http://www.nytimes.com/2015/03/08/books ... .html?_r=0
Our Kids,’ by Robert D. Putnam
By JASON DePARLEMARCH 4, 2015
soul food
I just posted this poem in another thread.
the wrong god would be economics
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-ritual ... ach-other/
If you don't know the kind of person I am
and I don't know the kind of person you are
a pattern that others made may prevail in the world
and following the wrong god home we may miss our star.
For there is many a small betrayal in the mind,
a shrug that lets the fragile sequence break
sending with shouts the horrible errors of childhood
storming out to play through the broken dyke.
And as elephants parade holding each elephant's tail,
but if one wanders the circus won't find the park,
I call it cruel and maybe the root of all cruelty
to know what occurs but not recognize the fact.
And so I appeal to a voice, to something shadowy,
a remote important region in all who talk:
though we could fool each other, we should consider--
lest the parade of our mutual life get lost in the dark.
For it is important that awake people be awake,
or a breaking line may discourage them back to sleep;
the signals we give--yes or no, or maybe--
should be clear: the darkness around us is deep.
William Stafford