I just finished watching a wonderful two-part film about our first Olympic team from 1896. It dealt with conflict, camaraderie, teamwork, and pride. In short, it's not the type picture one sees anymore, as we're not supposed to be proud of America anymore.
Last night we were watching a documentary on PBS that was quite good until the last historian came on and made a comment about how we need to apologize for everything under the sun. If this is true, does Italy need to be apologizing for the Borgias or the way the world was treated under the Caesars? We never hear that. How about an apology from Egypt to the Jews? I'm for that, but no one ever calls for it. No, America is the only one who has to apologize for things that are hundreds of years in the past. I really don't expect my descendants to apologize for things I have done three hundred years from now.
You know, Shirley MacLaine claims she's had dozens of lives. Imagine all the apologies she has to make, considering she's been around hundreds of years. I mean, she must have committed thousands of sins! Anyone every call for an apology from her?
No, it's more fun to pick on our country, which is why I like to watch the older shows. We had pride in our country then. We weren't apologizing for breathing like we are now. Americans had self-respect, which is sorely lacking. The only time people run across that word nowadays is when they play Scrabble.
Times have changed, and with them, so has America. Unfortunately, not for the better. But if we have changed for the worse, we can also do so for the better. Let's start having pride and self-respect not only in us but our country once more.
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
Monday, January 16, 2012
It Pays to Listen
I know the holiday season is over, but I've been thinking the past few weeks about one of my favorite stories. It came to mind on Christmas Day, as I was talking to my niece Mikaela. I reminded her of the Christmas when no one chose to believe her.
It was about a decade ago, and Mom wanted to give me a pair of black slacks. Everyone said they were nice, but Mikaela, who was the baby of the family then, spoke up, saying, "Grandma, they're green."
Well, we naturally chuckled at her. After all, she was a child. What did she know? "No Mikaela, they're black." We were adults. We knew what was right.
Very politely, Mikaela informed us they were green. Again, we told her they were black. Silly child!
She tried again to tell us they were green. One more we told her she was wrong. Finally, without saying a word, she plucked them from my hands, walked over to the window, and held them to the light.
Son of a gun. They were green.
When I reminded Mikaela of this last month, she was flabbergasted, saying, "How rude!" I pointed out to her that we were the rude ones, blowing her off due to her age, while she constantly was polite, finally proving her point without saying a word. I told her it was not only beautiful the way she did it, it's my favorite 'Mikaela story,' even though I was one of those proven wrong.
It goes to show that we should never doubt children, as they generally have something to say. Mikaela certainly did that day. And had we listened to her the first time and paid closer attention, none of us would have had to apologize to her.
As for me, I made out like a bandit. Mom so wanted to give me a pair of black slacks, the following day--one of the worst shopping days of the year--she went out and bought me a pair. So Mikaela continued to assist me.
Now if she'd just go back to making my snickerdoodles.
It was about a decade ago, and Mom wanted to give me a pair of black slacks. Everyone said they were nice, but Mikaela, who was the baby of the family then, spoke up, saying, "Grandma, they're green."
Well, we naturally chuckled at her. After all, she was a child. What did she know? "No Mikaela, they're black." We were adults. We knew what was right.
She tried again to tell us they were green. One more we told her she was wrong. Finally, without saying a word, she plucked them from my hands, walked over to the window, and held them to the light.
Son of a gun. They were green.
When I reminded Mikaela of this last month, she was flabbergasted, saying, "How rude!" I pointed out to her that we were the rude ones, blowing her off due to her age, while she constantly was polite, finally proving her point without saying a word. I told her it was not only beautiful the way she did it, it's my favorite 'Mikaela story,' even though I was one of those proven wrong.
It goes to show that we should never doubt children, as they generally have something to say. Mikaela certainly did that day. And had we listened to her the first time and paid closer attention, none of us would have had to apologize to her.
As for me, I made out like a bandit. Mom so wanted to give me a pair of black slacks, the following day--one of the worst shopping days of the year--she went out and bought me a pair. So Mikaela continued to assist me.
Now if she'd just go back to making my snickerdoodles.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)