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A quote: “Each new generation born is in effect an invasion of civilization by little barbarians, who must be civilized before it is too late.” ~~ Thomas Sowell
I’ll start with a story …
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The attic trunk.
When her granddaughter, Aspen, was dropped off, she decided to do that wicked thing.
She held out her hand to the sullen little one and lead her up the backstairs. Lead Aspen into a space she had strung string upon string of tiny lights. Took her to the trunk, revealing the treasures inside.
Together they set the table with delicate pink cups and plates on a chintz tablecloth. They donned flowered hats and lace shawls. She watched the dancing excitement in Aspen’s eyes as she sipped her tea and reached for another scone and thought …
There’s hope.
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Now, it’s your turn.
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. featured image, cropped, Adobe Stock standard license
GWB says: Little Bobby was soon to demand his her mother sue all his her friends who didn’t show up to his her coming out party for insensitivity. He She also was upset at Mummy for not serving Bud Light.
(Of course it’s ridiculous. But so is life right now.)
Lloyd says: The book’s back cover photo showed an old man and a young boy fishing. The Haiku below read:
Lucky Is The Boy
Who Spends Time With His Grandpa
Learning The Old Ways
Brought my Grandpa to mind, along with all the good times we spent fishing. I could almost taste our meals of fried trout and dandelion salad. I am an old man now and can’t do much, but I can still take a boy fishing. I can show him fun that in no way depends on modern technology. I’ll call my youngest grandson and make plans for an outing.
Cameron says: For ten years, I have been in combat zones. I have seen and inflicted horrors that only my closest friends have heard about. I was on the path of becoming the old man in a profession where men died young. I have earned respect from others and have survived wounds that should have killed me several times over.
I kneel down and smile at my daughter as she offers me tea and cookies that her mother helped with. Yes, even I can be commanded. And I say that without worrying what others think.
OK, the tea is pretty good also.
Going down to Silicon Valley for an anime convention was a big deal for three kids who’d grown up in the isolation of Sparta Point, up in the redwood forest. We all promised our folks we’d stick together, watch each other’s backs, and maintain our situational awareness at all timeal awareness like Dad had trained us.
They were probably thinking in terms of street crime, muggers and carjackers and stuff like that. And I suppose there were probably some places in San Jose that were like that, but the area around the convention center was a long way from the mean streets of New York or Chicago. Quite honestly, the biggest danger around there was all the guys selling counterfeit designer watches and purses and stuff like that.
Instead, the worst thing happened right there at the convention. We decided to drop by the maid cafe for some authentic Japanese noodle soup and enjoy some cute cosplay.
That was when I noticed a young man a couple of tables down from us who was showing just a little too much interest in one of the maids. Nothing so blatant that it’d attract the attention of the staff member who was watching over things, but enough that the young woman in the cute maid cosplay was visibly uncomfortable.
Now to decide what to do. If we alerted the room minder, she would put a stop to it — but if Mr. Over-attentive was just socially clueless and didn’t realize he was overdoing it, ejecting him from the convention might be using a sledgehammer to kill a mosquito.
A quick glance caught Nicky’s attention, and it was a few moments’ effort to explain the situation. There’s a trick to joining someone at a table without looking like you’re horning in, and gaining that person’s confidence well enough that you can offer pointers without it feeling like harsh criticism.
It wasn’t like we were going to become friends with this dude. He’d go his own way at the end of the convention, and we’d head back home to our own lives at Sparta Point. But sometimes it’s better not to use the methods better suited for stopping Huns and Vandals when you need to corral a bull that’s at the door of the china shop.
Navig8r says: Good morning, Dear Readers.
Desperate in Poughkeepsie writes:
Dear Miss Marcy,
I am a poor boy in love with a rich girl. She loves me, and her parents love me too. I have tried everything from fancy foods to catnip toys but her cat still holds me in complete disdain. What am I to do?
Dear Desperate,
Yours is a truly sad story. Miss Marcy does not give financial advice, but remember, if at first you don’t succeed, skydiving is not for you.
Until next week, keep the letters coming, think happy thoughts, and always keep the sugar bowl full.
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