Even as a little kid I knew I was different than most. I was not consumed with being the most popular or fashionable. None of that mattered much to me. Oh sure I wanted to fit in as all kids do, but I was not the type of kid that would tell my parents I would just die if I did not have a specific shirt or pair of pants. Case in point: even in my latter elementary school years I still liked the show Captain Kangaroo. I really liked the character Mr. Green Jeans. Why, I could not tell you now or even what he looked like. However, my mom thought because I liked him so much I would like a pair of green jeans. She brought them home and was so proud. I took them gratefully, but was screaming inside about how ugly they were. I mean big square pockets in front and back and just ugly. I never wore them and they stayed buried on the very top shelf of my closet way in the corner. As a matter of fact I found them years and years later still scrunched up there in an old pillow case. So I cared to an extent about fashion but it was more geared to what I liked and was comfortable wearing. After all I was a tom boy in every since of the word.
Our family did not really talk during dinner because the news was on, and God forbid if we spoke during the weather. Mom just about had a cow on anyone that did. That was one of her obsessions and still is to this day. But, I was the type of kid was would hear the undercurrents of things being talked about on the news. the murders in the bigger cities, racial undertones about it if it was a black or Hispanic that stood accused. I didn't understand why people made comments about people of different skin color, why was it a big deal? I didn't get it. We were still people right? I heard and saw the horror of the end Vietnam War and wondered why we as a nation were there, and why all these people had to fight. I really wanted to know these things and knew I was not going to get the answers at the dinner table. So I just kept wondering night after night.
In history lessons in social studies class as it was called in elementary school we learned about Martin Luther King Jr. and all he did for our country. Even at that age, I knew if I had been alive then I would have helped some how. I would have been in Selma Alabama marching across the Edmund Pettus bridge, and march on Washington. I would have sobbed when JFK was killed, and applauded John Jr. as he stood straight and saluted his fathers casket as it rolled by. I just knew it. I don't know how I just did.
In middle school I would go to the art museum in our town it was free to get in, and just walk around and look at all the paintings and other art. It was then as I walked through listening to classical music on my walkman that I had the realization that I was listening to music written by a deaf man (Beethoven) and looking at paintings painted by a blind man (Claude Monet). I thought that everybody thought that and I was just behind the learning curve because I just then got it. I found out later that most adults don't ever have that kind of deep thought awakenings.
I guess I always wanted to fix the wrongs in the whole world. I had been jaded and turned cynical to the fact that one person can't do that. In many regards I feel like I still can change the world, I can do my part anyway. Even if it to just light a fire under someone else to also help in their own way in where ever their personal passion lies. One voice turns to two, 2 to 4, and it just keeps growing until multitudes are all in one accord with helping someone some where in the world even in their own back yard. Distance does not matter it's the effort that counts.
Our family did not really talk during dinner because the news was on, and God forbid if we spoke during the weather. Mom just about had a cow on anyone that did. That was one of her obsessions and still is to this day. But, I was the type of kid was would hear the undercurrents of things being talked about on the news. the murders in the bigger cities, racial undertones about it if it was a black or Hispanic that stood accused. I didn't understand why people made comments about people of different skin color, why was it a big deal? I didn't get it. We were still people right? I heard and saw the horror of the end Vietnam War and wondered why we as a nation were there, and why all these people had to fight. I really wanted to know these things and knew I was not going to get the answers at the dinner table. So I just kept wondering night after night.
In history lessons in social studies class as it was called in elementary school we learned about Martin Luther King Jr. and all he did for our country. Even at that age, I knew if I had been alive then I would have helped some how. I would have been in Selma Alabama marching across the Edmund Pettus bridge, and march on Washington. I would have sobbed when JFK was killed, and applauded John Jr. as he stood straight and saluted his fathers casket as it rolled by. I just knew it. I don't know how I just did.
In middle school I would go to the art museum in our town it was free to get in, and just walk around and look at all the paintings and other art. It was then as I walked through listening to classical music on my walkman that I had the realization that I was listening to music written by a deaf man (Beethoven) and looking at paintings painted by a blind man (Claude Monet). I thought that everybody thought that and I was just behind the learning curve because I just then got it. I found out later that most adults don't ever have that kind of deep thought awakenings.
I guess I always wanted to fix the wrongs in the whole world. I had been jaded and turned cynical to the fact that one person can't do that. In many regards I feel like I still can change the world, I can do my part anyway. Even if it to just light a fire under someone else to also help in their own way in where ever their personal passion lies. One voice turns to two, 2 to 4, and it just keeps growing until multitudes are all in one accord with helping someone some where in the world even in their own back yard. Distance does not matter it's the effort that counts.
Yet.... I have my days where I feel like I am accomplishing nothing, disappointing everyone and not doing my part. My problem is I want to help everyone everywhere. All the AIDS orphans in Africa, the war in Darfur, the victims of hurricane Katrina or other natural disasters, the remaining families of our fallen war heroes, basically all the plights of those less fortunate then I. Even as a young kid I wanted to do that. However, people would say "you can't change everything, you can't change the world by yourself." Why? Why can't I, and can't I at least try? I don't want to do it for any recognition or accolades, I just want to do it because I can.
I think what I am getting at is as a child I always knew I had to have been born in the wrong era. I wanted social justice for everyone because I heard of all the injustices and intolerance's every night on the news or in comments adults would make. Without understanding why the comments or undertones were wrong I just knew they were. I wanted to make everything right with the world even if everything about me was all wrong.
I think what I am getting at is as a child I always knew I had to have been born in the wrong era. I wanted social justice for everyone because I heard of all the injustices and intolerance's every night on the news or in comments adults would make. Without understanding why the comments or undertones were wrong I just knew they were. I wanted to make everything right with the world even if everything about me was all wrong.
