Friday, June 26, 2009

Standards, My Child, Research

I mourn the death of standards. The Book of Judges tells the tale of pre-kingdom Israel. A reoccurring theme is that each did as they wished, doing “what was good in their own eyes.” The point, of course, is that they should have turned to the Law for guidance. Then God would have blessed them.

I believe in divine law, but this post isn’t about that. It’s about good sense. It is possible to have good sense without even knowing Divine Law. So the street pagans who plague the eastern part of our fair city are without excuse.

The problem is that people doubt the reality of consequences. Many believe consequences happen to others, not to them. This is silly. Every act has a consequence, big or small, near in time or far off. So the little gangsters who feel that being street pagans makes them larger than they really are deceive themselves.

A case in point is a man who works for us. I’ll call him Norman though his real name is Don. I mean it would be impolite to tell you what his real name is, wouldn’t it? Anyway, Norman is an ex-gangster. He belonged to one of the lesser Hispanic gangs. He has the gang tattoos on his fingers. They were made with an ink pen and some viciousness. I’m sure receiving them made him feel manly. He did what gangsters do. Now, in his forties. He cleans floors and toilets, which is good, honest and hard work.

He hasn’t fully escaped the belief one's choices have no consequences. He ignores some rules, and this leads him into situations where he becomes mildly uncomfortable and a little resentful. He may never learn that what we choose to believe and what we do affects our life. I’d like to say, “Think, man! What will happen if you do this?” I have said that, though not so bluntly.

People put having a good time in front of having good sense. “Didn’t we have fun?” is a more important question than is “Didn’t we do right?”.


Now I got that off my rather cute little chest, let me tell you about Arpita. She’s one of our children. She was born in India and came to us when she was four months old. She is tall, very attractive, smart. She thinks she’s fat. She’s not, but she thinks she is.

I can’t begin to tell you how proud she makes me. Because of her very difficult entry into the world, she has some learning disabilities. One of my other daughters accomplishes things with relative ease. I’m proud of her too. But what Arpita gains she gains through sweat and adaptation. She probably gets an inordinate amount of attention. I tend to focus on the child in greatest need, and often that’s she.

She came alive this year. Socialization problems have dissolved. She won two school awards for science. She cried and suffered through biology, but she won certificates for the quality and imagination behind her projects and she won the school’s Thomas Edison Award for remarkable achievement in a science class.

I wish more people read my blog, not that I really have anything special to say. I just like the attention …. The person from Denver still drops by without leaving a comment. Stop a bit and say, “hi.”


I turned chapter five of the history book I’m co-writing into three chapters last night. You can tell it got out of hand, right? I’m rewriting bits of it today as I have time. Otherwise I’m sitting here and avoiding cleaning house.

Recent research has given me a definitive explanation for a sectarian division that developed in one of the small millennialist sects back in the mid to late 1880’s. Oh, surely that’s not important to you, but it is to me. I’ll write that into what is now chapter five sometime later today.

1 comment:

  1. Hi Rachael, I'm trying to read something of your past posts. And so, here, I've read about your sweet Arpita. And yes, you can be proud of her.