I treasure you. Hopefully you don’t need to read this to know how much.
That’s why (and I know this is hard for you to understand) I don’t want you going outside. You see, it’s dangerous for kitties out there, and the two of you aren’t street savvy.
I’m going to visit my mom in a couple of months, and I’m worried about you. I’m terrified you’ll dash outside while I’m gone and I’ll never see you again. My friend Deb is going to take care of you while I’m gone, so be good for her, okay?
We need to talk about my trip a little, too. I’ll be gone for what will seem like a long time to you, and I decided it was best to let you stay home rather than go to the kitty-cat hotel. They didn’t have any of the big rooms available, and you would’ve been in a teeny-tiny space for way too long.
So you might be a little lonely, but I’ll be coming back, and Deb will stop by everyday to feed you, love you and clean up your litter box. Be sure to talk to her and snuggle with her; she’ll love it. I may come home and find she’s kidnapped you! (Just kidding.)
We have lots of space now, lots of room for you to run around. It’s okay if you knock things around a little. Deb or I will pick it up.
I’ve finally reached the conclusion, after eight months of fighting it, I’m not going to find space for some things I own.
My brother says if I’m not using them I don’t need them, but I’ve already delivered a dozen boxes to Goodwill. I’m not ready to part with anything more. So all these miscellaneous items will go into a box — make that boxes — that will be placed in the corner of the spare bedroom.
The cats are delighted. Boxes! Boxes! Jump in, jump out. Play a little, sleep a little more. I just have to be sure not to tape anything shut with a kitty inside.
You may not believe in the Easter Bunny, but you’ll find yourself believing in a six-foot rabbit named Harvey after watching this charming film starring James Stewart.
Harvey, 1950, Universal Pictures. Starring James Stewart; co-starring Josephine Hull. Directed by Henry Koster. B&W, 105 minutes.
Elwood P. Dowd (James Stewart) is a naïve, yet oddly sage, man who would do anything for the family that wants nothing more than to hide him away from the world. Chiefly, they want him to keep his discussions about and with his best friend, Harvey, to himself. Harvey, you see, is a 6′ 3 -1/2″ invisible rabbit, or a “pooka,” a mischievous mythological creature .
His sister, Veta (Josephine Hull), among other things, is worried for her daughter’s prospects what with friends and neighbors hearing Elwood’s benevolent but strange talk about life…and a pooka. She arranges to have him committed to a local mental hospital, but in the process confesses to seeing Harvey herself at times. The admitting doctor (Charles Drake) takes note, and Veta is involuntarily placed in the hospital…
Ever been convinced something is true, only to discover there is, indeed, another logical explanation? I admit, it’s easier for me to point out this oh-so-human flaw in others, and I know a few people who routinely will stubbornly insist they are right, regardless of the possibility there is another way of looking at the situation.
Moments ago I was proven wrong about something that seemed so clear to me…okay, I knew my suggestions were off-the-wall, but there honestly was a logic to them. And who knows, in the future someone might say, “hey, she was right…I’ll be darned!” I’m not counting on it, but it has happened in the past.
I try not to judge others, and one of the biggest reasons why is this: we simply don’t have all the information. No matter how wise, sophisticated or informed you may believe yourself to be, you are not omniscient. You are limited in your view of the world by your experience.
One friend of mine practically spits if you mention Melania Trump.
Now, I’m not a fan of our president, never have thought he was anything but a buffoon. I can’t imagine being married to him (the thought of that makes me spit), and neither can my friend. Yet just because we see nothing desirable in the man doesn’t mean some other woman won’t find him attractive.
I hear the laughter — let me finish —
Seriously, while my friend thinks Melania married Donald strictly for his money, I say this: I don’t know the woman. I don’t know why she married him. I don’t know what he was like when he was courting her. You get my point. Maybe the money was the strongest draw, maybe not. I would guess she never genuinely anticipated being First Lady, and that’s a role with a high cost, so I have some sympathy for her. My friend does not; she thinks she got what she deserved.
That’s the kind of judgment I pray you never hear me make about another.
I was the victim of some harsh judgment several years ago,
and I lull myself to sleep many nights thinking how my accusers may have fallen in their pursuit of evidence of my non-existent wrongdoing. They spent a lot of time and money chasing after this information, and someone, somewhere along the line, must have said, “what the hell are you doing?” because they never dug up the dirt they were certain was within their grasp. There must have been enough misinterpreted data along the way for them to continue in this fruitless pursuit, and I imagine they fell victim to their own limited viewpoint when evaluating the facts.
Knowing human nature, and in particular, knowing the individuals involved, they never did give up believing I was guilty of some wrong-doing. Perhaps they are still waiting for me to trip up.
I’m not suggesting
Each of us has our own unique view, our own experience to draw on.
we remain so open-minded we become gullible, victims of our own consideration. There is a point where we know enough to draw reasonable conclusions. It’s when we think we know more than we actually do that we’re most likely to judge others. The biggest danger is judging people who are more acquaintances than friends, or assessing situations in which we are dabblers, not experts.
Nothing is as it seems…so judge not, lest ye be judged.
In sixth grade, in an effort to teach his students the importance of simplicity in writing, Mr. Dunton assigned each of us a famous saying, something we all were familiar with. We were told to re-write it, using unnecessarily complex language.
Here’s what I came up with:
“An overabundance of persons engaged in creating edible material taint the liquid in which meat, fish and vegetables are stewed.”
I’ll leave it to you to figure out the original popular saying. Mr. Dunton loved my interpretation, and my classmates were completely confused. I can’t speak for any of them, but that lesson stayed with me.
As did the assignment we were given in eighth grade. Write a 100-word description of anything you choose, just don’t use the same word twice.
Unfortunately some of us were very literal and thought that included such words as “the” and “is.” It became a challenging assignment. One that has proven to be useful to this day.
Frequently after I’ve written and published one of my blog posts I find an “appalling” error. I hasten to correct it, but what I really should be doing is thanking those teachers who taught me to spot the problems in my writing and helped me hone a skill that is essential to my well-being.
I have several friends who are teachers, and I know there are days they feel as if they’ve accomplished nothing. The demands put on their job that seemingly have nothing to do with teaching, but rather, with meeting the obscure expectations of bureaucrats, overshadow the part of the job they love.
Thank you very much!
Most days will eventually fade in the memories of their students, most assignments will be a part of a hazy past. Still, some things will stick, and they will make the difference teachers want to believe they are making.
Thank you, Mr. Dunton. Thank you, Mrs. Edwards…Mr. Teall…Mr. Tabucchi…Miss Golart. For those of you I’m not naming, you are not forgotten. Neither are your lessons.
You may not believe in the Easter Bunny, but you’ll find yourself believing in a six-foot rabbit named Harvey after watching this charming film starring James Stewart.
“An overabundance of persons engaged in creating edible material taint the liquid in which meat, fish and vegetables are stewed.”
My World With Words 
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