Let’s teach our children that weird is a good thing. Because it is.
And she said, “Flowers are red.”
“Flowers are red young man / Green leaves are green / There’s no need to see flowers any other way / Than the way they always have been seen.”
She’s a teacher, a character in a song by Harry Chapin, speaking to a little boy on his first day of school.
He replies:
Continue reading “Flowers are Rainbow-Colored. People are Weird.”
I experienced a convergence through a couple of communications that came my way today.
I experienced a convergence through a few communications that came my way today.
The first was a newsletter in my inbox this morning from Bock’s Office…
One evening last week my 6-year-old daughter and I ran out to Dairy Queen to get treats and bring them home for everyone. It was around 6:30, and as we drove east on 17th Avenue it was still fairly light outside but the moon was already visible. It was nearly full; it was full a night or so later.
I’d never heard a more miserable, pitiful statement in my life, and I haven’t heard a more miserable, pitiful one since.
Change Happens – I’m thinking about transitions on this first day of the New Year. I’ve learned change is constant. Some changes are bigger and more impactful than others. We move on. It’s all good.
I’m thinking about transitions on this first day of the New Year.
Bad to good, good to better, better to great. If you’re not so lucky it’s the other way around. More likely, though, you’re on an up-down-up wave like the rest of us. We’re all moving all the time. From one place to another, task to task, priority to priority. I suppose “status to status” is more applicable in these online-all-the-time days.
Change is constant.
Which goes to show that even axioms transition down the years and depend on who is reporting them.
Some changes are bigger than others.
I changed jobs. So far, no day has been the same as the one before.
It’s all good.
Mom died in April, and all of us have been getting used to life without her. Lately I’ve been wondering when that transition might be done, but I know it never will be. Fact is, I don’t want it to be. I go on, but I think about her every day. Dad, too. And you know what? It always makes me smile inside.
This year, I plan to be whatever change demands: sad, happy, understanding, strong, supportive or in need of support. I’ll try to be kind in everything. Above all, I’ll do my best to embrace the transition.
Father’s Day, 2004
“Thanks for being here.”
My father, Martin C. Fredricks III, said this to me many times, usually at family gatherings. Just as often, though, he said it to people he’d just met, at one of my brother’s NDSU football games, for example, even if they had their own child playing. It always seemed an odd thing to say to people with their own reasons for being somewhere.
“Mart probably fell into the toilet, and Dad’s making a list of ways to get him out.”
