Pete Seeger and Joe Hickerson posed this question in the song "Where Have All the Flowers Gone?".  It is the question.  It is the only question that really matters.

Politicans aren't really interested in helping "us".

War mostly kills, hurts, maims, destroys, and bankrupts.

Absolute power corrupts absolutely.

We are more powerful together than we are apart (synergy).

We have two ears and one mouth for a reason - listen twice as much as you talk.

Don't carry your anger.  Don't study war anymore.  Lay down your sword and shield.

When will we ever learn?

Childhood is short.  Hug your babies more often.

Your parents won't live forever.  Call them and tell them you love them now.

No one wishes on their deathbeds "Gee, I wish I spent more time at work."

Gossip is ugly and you're better than that.

Stand up for yourself.

When will we ever learn?

Treat the Earth gently and do your part to make it a better, cleaner place.

Nothing lasts forever.

Be kind to others.  For everyone you meet is fighting a harder battle.

Laughter is the best medicine.

Education is much less expensive than ignorance.

Put your money where your mouth is.

When will we ever learn? When will we ever learn?

Often touted as the epitome of compassion and "motherly love", I observe women to be more petty and more vicious in their social starvation of "enemies" than a man could ever dream to be.  Lacking physical force, they can be disturbingly cunning in their vitriolic and systematic verbal assassinations of those whom they do not approve.

Interestingly, this largely ignored feature of the fairer sex is most poisonous to other women.  Perhaps it is in our DNA to attempt to make other women who would otherwise be competition for the fittest male look like a pathetic choice for him.  Just look at how women react when they find out another woman is having an affair, for example.

Here is a quote from a female Viner regarding a 96-year old woman whose 99-year old husband is divorcing her after he found out she had an affair in the 1940's:

Fact of the matter is she's a liar and a cheat. One step up from a common whore, in my book.

And here is a comment from a man regarding the Tiger Woods sex scandal:

Elin should forgive and forget to make the marriage work. Forgiving is the first step. One transgression does not wreck a marriage. We are all imperfect.

Here is a what a woman thought about the situation:

I thnik that everyone should leave me Tiger Woods alone. It is nobody's business and I guess that is no other news that is why everyone is staying on this story. He is handsome and his wife is beautiful and they need to try and make this work in spite of all this crap.

Women are hard-wired to be the emotional and/or physical slaves of men.  It's not easy to overcome your basic instincts.  Women want to absolve, excuse, and show compassion for the errors of men.  But they are wholly incapable of extending that to their fellow womankind.  Perhaps that is hard-wired too.

There is a reason women are so subjugated and I think that reason is because, in many cases, they want to be.  They are designed for it.  They strip themselves of female friends and support so when they are in vulnerable situations, they often have no one to turn to whom they can really trust.

Women are incapable of being true friends to one another.  They are too concerned with eachother's business...and too judgemental when one of them makes a mistake. 

Men, on the other hand, like to stay out of their friend's business.  And they tend to live up to the word: LOYALTY.  Women invented the concept of "backstabbing" and they just can't keep their pretty lips shut when a girl is in the wrong. 

A woman president?  Someday...but she'd be a fool to take a female vice president!

This is a poem by Charles Bukowski  I would like to suggest you listen to this reading.

Hell is a Lonely Place

he was 65, his wife was 66, had
Alzheimer's disease. 

he had cancer of the
mouth.
there were
operations, radiation
treatments
which decayed the bones in his
jaw
which then had to be
wired. 

daily he put his wife in
rubber diapers
like a
baby. 

unable to drive in his
condition
he had to take a taxi to
the medical
center,
had difficulty speaking,
had to
write the directions
down. 

on his last visit
they informed him
there would be another
operation: a bit more
left
cheek and a bit more
tounge. 

when he returned
he changed his wife's
diapers
put on the tv
dinners, watched the
evening news
then went to the bedroom, got the
gun, put it to her
temple, fired. 

she fell to the
left, he sat upon the
couch
put the gun into his
mouth, pulled the
trigger. 

the shots didn't arouse
the neighbors. 

later
the burning tv dinners
did. 

somebody arrived, pushed
the door open, saw
it. 

soon
the police arrived and
went through their
routine, found
some items: 

a closed savings
account and
a checkbook with a
balance of
$1.14
suicide, they
deduced. 

in three weeks
there were two
new tenants:
a computer engineer
named
Ross
and his wife
Anatana
who studied
ballet. 

they looked like another
upwardly mobile
pair.

Sometimes I think I am the lonliest person in the world.  But then I remember Charles Bukowski and I am reminded that while I may not meet my soul mates, they are out there - lurking - and this world was not made for us.  And that is okay.

RIP, Charles.  Here is the poem by Mr. Bukowski that made me fall in love with him.  And he wrote this at a time when Newsvine didn't even exist!

The Crunch by Charles Bukowski

too much too little

too fat
too thin
or nobody.

laughter or
tears

haters
lovers

strangers with faces like
the backs of
thumb tacks

armies running through
streets of blood
waving winebottles
bayoneting and @!$%#ing
virgins.

an old guy in a cheap room
with a photograph of M. Monroe.

there is a loneliness in this world so great
that you can see it in the slow movement of
the hands of a clock

people so tired
mutilated
either by love or no love.

people just are not good to each other
one on one.

the rich are not good to the rich
the poor are not good to the poor.

we are afraid.

our educational system tells us
that we can all be
big-ass winners

it hasn't told us
about the gutters
or the suicides.

or the terror of one person
aching in one place
alone

untouched
unspoken to

watering a plant.

people are not good to each other.
people are not good to each other.
people are not good to each other.

I suppose they never will be.
I don't ask them to be.

but sometimes I think about
it.

the beads will swing
the clouds will cloud
and the killer will behead the child
like taking a bite out of an ice cream cone.

too much
too little

too fat
too thin
or nobody

more haters than lovers.

people are not good to each other.
perhaps if they were
our deaths would not be so sad.

meanwhile I look at young girls
stems
flowers of chance.

there must be a way.

surely there must be a way that we have not yet
though of.

who put this brain inside of me?

it cries
it demands
it says that there is a chance.

it will not say
"no."

Offering comfort to a fellow human being is one of the easiest ways to obtain a more peaceful spirit.  Our culture tends to be very "hands-off" and expressions of affection and tenderness can be difficult to exhibit.

I worked in a funeral home for 2 years and it provided many opportunities to practice letting go of my discomfort to offer someone else some comfort.  And the ways to do it are endless...

Comfort (n): A state of physical ease and freedom from pain or constraint.

Let's start with food.  Comfort food.  Food promotes fellowship between people and, when someone is in a state of pain or discomfort, they often forget to take care of themselves.   Presumably, this is how it became a custom to bring over food for the bereaved.

It can also be comforting to bring over a meal when someone is sick, just had a baby, just moved into town, or recently lost their job.  It's a simple expression of comfort and can bring great joy as well.  Don't forget to offer it in a container you do not expect to have returned.  

Another way to offer comfort is through touch.  A hug or embrace can be very meaningful when someone is in emotional pain.  Try it even if you don't feel comfortable yourself with affection.  The other person will let go when they stop feeling the need for your touch.  Do not be the first to let go.

When you need comfort, try something that has these qualities....soft (like slippers or a pillow)...warm (like a cup of tea or a bath)...free (like fresh air or the sunshine)...abundant (like wild flowers or star gazing)

Don't be afraid to comfort yourself.  Don't be afraid to comfort others.

Tears are natural, pain is a part of life, but so are loving arms and sympathetic ears.  Use all that this life has to offer. 

Mercy is the demonstration of compassion or forgiveness shown toward someone whom it is within one's power to punish or harm.  

Volunteers are a wonderful example of beings who offer mercy to others by offering compassion to people who they could otherwise harm (by doing nothing).  About 62.8 million Americans volunteered through or for an organization at least once between September 2009 and September 2010 (source).  That's a lot of helping hands!

When the economy is struggling, volunteers become even more crucial to the functioning of many not-for-profit organizations.  Food banks, thrift stores, soup kitchens, crisis nurseries, hospitals, schools, and shelters all depend on volunteers in their communities to keep their doors open.  And they do!  If you do a quick search of the local organizations by you that are doing great work, stop and consider for a moment all of the people it takes to run and how they are sacrificing their time and efforts for free to promote these positive organizations.

One set of very important volunteers are firefighters.  More than two-thirds of the firefighters in this country are actually volunteers (source).  Such an important job left to volunteers!  Humans can be amazing when they want to be!

One such volunteer firefighter is Ed Webb of Chesapeake, Ohio.  Ed is the volunteer firefighter who consoles the grieving, including at a fatal fire where a 10-year-old boy died. He's also the one who talks to the media. 

”When the call comes, you have to serve," Ed said. "It could be manning a hose, helping a family that just lost a loved one. There are days when you have a hard time. I want to thank my wife - everybody's wives. Because when our pagers go off, they hear it, too.”

He has served as a volunteer firefighter for more than 20 years and he was recently promoted to Chief.

Besides volunteer firefighting, Ed does plenty of playing Santa, as well as beauty pageant judging, plus a chorus of church work.

Have you ever considered volunteering?  It's a very rewarding experience and there are so many places you can go to achieve this goal.  

Here are some websites you can go to where you can find a place to volunteer:

http://www.smartvolunteer.org/?gclid=CPmDwZmMmKwCFYbrKgodBwzFQg

http://www.iparticipate.org/?gclid=CL2e26SMmKwCFcdrKgodlRlUPw

http://www.worldchanging.com/archives/010275.html

http://www.volunteermatch.org/

However, you can also do little things.  I suggest this website for being a "mini-volunteer": http://www.wishuponahero.com/

On this website, people can post wishes they need fulfilled.  Some are little (sending a birthday card to someone or a note of encouragements) and some are bigger (a toy or clothing for someone in need).  The idea is to extend yourself to someone - to volunteer your patience, love, and generosity.

It happens in an instant for some, others it takes a lifetime.  It is the experience of mercy: either as the giver of mercy or the receiver of mercy.  I like the word.  "Mercy".  The same pronunciation as "thank you" in French.  Coincidence?  I do not know.

The vitriolic bitterness, the impatience, the frustration, the misunderstanding.  All of it boiling over in this world; 7 billion people clashing simultaneously, each clamoring to grab on to what is left of the quickly dwindling resources.  And there are the few sensitive souls who are trying desparately to reach out and pluck a few passengers off the steamer engine toward total annihilation, if we'd let them.

*sigh* At least, that is how it feels sometimes.  I do not know if I can bear it much longer.  And, it will seem trite to so many...but, out of nowhere, I am suddenly humbled by the small voice which echoes my own, "Have you no mercy?" as I realize I have been swept along in the tide of anger and pain.

Recently, asknreceive1-1054310, posed this question to her fellow Viners.  Her comment was so sincere and honest, I was taken aback by the vulnerability.  Because I want to be like that.  I do not want to be jaded by this world.  I do not want to hurt others because I have been hurt.  I do not want to destroy my enemy.  

I want peace.  I want understanding.  I want calm.  I want hope.

How ironic that we contribute to the destruction of the very thing we wanted more than anything else.  And when I offered up my apology to asknreceive1-1054310.  She accepted without hesitation, without shame.  "So shines a good deed in a weary world."

I do not want to be a tool that dismantles the very things I proclaim to preserve.  So, in honor of all that is right and good within ourselves and our world, I would like to offer up a series that celebrates compassion, mercy, and goodness.

This serves as the official "Introduction".  

Merci, asknreceive1-1054310 .  

Good Morning, Newsvine Family!  May all of your days feel like Friday and each of your days begin with blueberry pancakes and real maple syrup and lots of butter.  And your arteries never get clogged!  May you encounter no traffic on your way to the job that you love in the car that gets 60 miles to the gallon!

May you help someone and they reward you with an ice cream sundae and, if it's cold, a cup of hot cocoa that is overflowing with marshmallows!  I wish for you a fluffy kitten to pet, a pretty flower to sniff, a comfy sweater to wear, and someone who loves you to kiss.

May someone tickle you and stop when you ask them to.  May you feel loved and protected and warm.  May you hear a good joke and get a welcome surprise.  I wish for you to have a best friend, forgive someone you've been angry with, and see a shooting star.

I wish you will be able to feel comfortable in your own skin.  I hope you're so happy to come home and sit by a cozy fireplace.  I hope someone is always there to greet you and give you a long embrace.  May you share a laugh, a healthy dinner, and just the right amount of wine.  May you play board games and watch the Brady Bunch and stay up past your bed time.  May you take bubble baths and hot showers and have one of those fancy electric toothbrushes that make your teeth squeaky clean.  

May you have silky pjs and over-size slippers.  May you crawl into a big bed with lots of downy soft blankets and big pillows that always have a cool side.  May someone snuggle with you with a soft breeze coming through the window.  And you don't have to lock your doors and you fall asleep slowly and completely.  And you dream about unicorns and flying.  And you wake up only when you're ready to.

And life goes on forever with friends who know you and family that loves you...

I cannot say I am an atheist.  Because I most definitely cannot prove that there is NO God.  However, I cannot say I am a believer.  Because I most definitely cannot prove that there IS a God.  

I will say that the evidence appears to weigh heavily on the "no God" side.  But, seeing as the argument is futile without undeniable proof from either side, I try not to even think about it.

Despite my good intentions, every once in a while, someone wants desperately to convince me of their point of view.  Repeatedly explaining how I cannot be convinced by words alone (unless they are the actual words of God, spoken by God Itself, like - in my presence - not just some voice in my head which would only succeed in convincing me that I've developed Schizophrenia) never seems to do the trick.

At those times I come to realize that I give waaaay more credit to God than any of its believers. 

For example, I refer to God as "It".  Why people assign a gender to God is beyond me.  What use would God have for a penis or vagina?  Surely, God is not one gender or the other.  That simply makes no sense at all.  The fact that It is commonly referred to as "Him" is no surprise since, at the time when all religions were born - men saw themselves as human and women as tools in their lives.  And why would anyone make God a tool?  

Additionally, I an wholly unimpressed with the world.  Why did God go and create such a terrible design?  Some Believers claim there is some kind of test going on.  Why would an almighty God have any desire to "test" anything?  Testing is for toddlers.  Am I to accept that God has the intellectual capabilities of of a toddler?

Other Believers suggest we simply cannot understand It's plan.  Okay, I can accept that there are things I do not understand.  But I cannot accept that somehow, children being raped, buried alive, drowning, suffering, or starving is somehow beyond my comprehension and useful or good.  

When I see things like this, I actually hope there is no God.  Because, if there is, It is a sick and disgusting being and we are at It's mercy.

But I digress...

I can imagine God.  And while I cannot fully grasp the idea of "Perfection" - I know that nothing on this Earth is it.  There is a beauty in the world, a flow.  But none of it is Perfection.  

Believers say you cannot understand love if you don't understand hate.  Or that you cannot appreciate happiness if you are never sad.  True, WE cannot.  But, if you were creating a person from scratch and you are all powerful and knowing, You could make them able to know and understand love and goodness and ONLY that.

Being God must be something like being a parent.  As a parent, I can promise you this -- I will do everything in my power to prevent any harm from coming to my precious baby.  I will spare nothing to protect him.  But, alas, I am not God, so I suffer knowing he will have to suffer at times as well.  

But God didn't have to make humans that would suffer.  It chose to.  Believers speak of a loving God, but that is not loving.  They speak of Free Will...but that is just a fancy defense for a God who is either too weak or too cruel to do anything to help us.

Maybe Believers think it is scary to accept that We are all We have.  I am the only one who can help you and you are the only one who can help me.  Children get hit by cars and we are the only ones who can scoop them up and bring them to someone to heal them.  

We are more powerful than any God I have ever read about.  It cannot even be bothered to stop a baby from wandering into the street...or compel a person to stop and comfort a wounded baby -- feats that should be trivial for a being that created the Universe.

I give God a lot more credit than most Believers which is why I always leave conversations about Its existence feeling saddened...realizing that we are quite alone on this planet, aren't we?

I'd rather not think about it and go about my business offering as much love and kindness as I can to a world so devoid of it.  I do not know if there is a God.  But I know there are people in this world - sweet, innocent people - who need help.

And I'm looking around...and I think we are the only ones who can provide it.

It wasn't just a kiss because it was my second kiss.  I mean, it was the second person I had kissed.  And I was 19 so that is a long time to have only kissed one person and therefore, by logical process of elimination, the decision to kiss a second someone was meaningful.

They say you always remember your first (insert monumental moment here).  Yes, you do.  But if you revere and hold up that first and it remains the "only" for a long period of time...you will also always remember the second.

It was the very definition of chemistry.  It was a little too much to drink.  It was dark and cool on the beach with the cold sand on our bare feet.  It was someone I barely knew.  It was planned.  But what came after was spontaneous.

He said "if you keep doing that we're going to fall".  And I kept doing that.  And we did fall.  Though I fell more completely.  And right afterwards, I said, "you're the second person I've kissed".  The alcohol making me share too much.

It was more than a kiss.  It was Us becoming Me.  It was That becoming This.  It was my Everything becoming my Something.

I often wonder if men can really appreciate their ability to bring goodness into the lives of their families.  Because no matter how much society changes, no matter how much technology improves, or how empowered women become, you simply cannot replace the simple greatest of a great Dad or Husband.

Perhaps the greatest part of the Good Man is their variety.  What makes a man good is how they seemed almost tailored to your life.  Good men make those in their life feel protected, loved, guided, and strong.  But there are so many dimensions to the Good Man: the sense of humor, insightful anecdotes, quiet strength, unexpected vulnerability, and cautionary tales.  

As a daughter, I remember falling asleep to the sound of my father working late at night.  The shuffle of paper and the glow of his desk lamp were just enough to make me feel that all was right with my world - I was being watched over.

As a sister, I recall my brother teasing me...and then waiting in my bedroom to see if I was okay after I ran to the bathroom crying.  "Hey, I was just kidding, are you alright?".  

As a granddaughter, I know what my grandpa meant when he said "Now, you bring that boy over so I can question his intentions, young lady" and I can still feel the summer sun on my back as we would sit on the back porch putting together a puzzle with him tossing me candy from his secret stash.  And I swore, as I watched him in that nursing home write his name over and over again - not wanting to forget it, that my son would bear his name.

As a mother, I see my baby son - his grandpa and great-grandpa's namesake, and I know a legacy of Good Men will help turn him into a Good Man. 

Because you don't have to fight to be a warrior or earn a medal to be a hero.  Every day men get up and inspire their children, support their wives, and quietly make their family proud.

So, to all of the Good Men out there, who understand respect and know the value of love, thank you for being you.  For learning from your mistakes, helping us work through ours, and doing it all with a smile, a laugh, a knowing glance.  

Your daughters, sisters, wives, and - especially - your mothers love you.

A message in a bottle written by a French woman describing the agony of her young son's death generated a mystery for an author determined to find the mother...

But when she is found, she feels hurt and violated.

I thought your sweet face would color this world a rosy, pink.  I thought it would renew my faith in humanity.  But instead I find myself fearful and angry that, eventually, your trust will be broken, your faith tested, your innocence broken by a reality that cannot be changed.  This world will hurt you.  And I cannot protect you from it.

I see your generous smile and I smile back, but I know time will take your generosity and use it against you.  I realize now that parents must both foster optimism while harboring the knowledge that optimism leads to disappointment.  I thought my mission would be to save you from pain, but now I know it is to prepare you for pain so that you can walk through it without it changing your intrinsically beautiful soul.

Jim Rohn wisely said “the same walls that keep out sadness also keep out joy”.  So we must not build walls around us.  We must build walls within us; strengthen our true selves so that we can resist the world’s attempts to change us.

I’ll be there for you, son.  Every step of the way; even when you cannot see me...even when you think you don't need me.  I can’t help it.  And, like every mother has said before me, I will always be here for you; a safe, soft place to take shelter when you need it.  Even the toughest fighters need a break.  Follow True Love and you will be granted great success and happiness.   I know you possess everything within You necessary to be Great and have a wonderful adventure in this life.

All of my love forever and ever,

Mom

Weddings are beautiful events, representing love, commitment, family, and affection.  In a world where so much changes so rapidly, the promise of a constant - a constant as devastatingly enchanting as love and loyalty - it breath-taking.

That being said, I find love stories dramatic, inspiring, and thrilling no matter how important the couple may be or expensive the occasion gets.

What was your wedding like?  What did you wear?  What did you eat?  What kind of cake?  Do you remember your vows?  Were there any "oops" moments?  How was the kiss?  Where did the ceremony take place?  When is your anniversary?  How long have you been married?

I was a student in college. He was a professor at a different university an 1.5hrs away (Scandalous!). It was our first Valentine's Day as a couple which happened to fall on a weekend so I was understandably excited.

I called the evening before, as was our usual routine, and he said he was not feeling well. He is a germ-a-phobe and I was immediately deflated. I would be willing to risk a cold for Love, but I knew from experience that he didn't fancy the idea of spreading bacteria to anyone and he certainly didn't want anyone sick around him.

So imagine my surprise when he suggested I come to visit him any way! I took the bus on Friday nights and he would pick me up. So I packed my bag and collection of cheesy Valentine gifts and was off! I told myself not to expect very much...this guy doesn't have a romantic bone in his body. I would have been tickled to just eat a pizza with him in front of the TV watching a movie for the special day.

Of course, once he had picked me up from the bus station, we went straight to his apartment (he wouldn't kiss me for fear he would "contaminate" me). He told me there was stuff in the fridge and was going to bed early, but first he'd take a hot bath. He would sleep on the couch and I could have the bed.

The next day, Valentine's Day, I woke up and made breakfast and then doted on my sick boyfriend, happy to play nurse. He was grateful for the yummy food and then I gave him the trinkets I had brought with me. He gave them their due amusement.

Possibly feeling bad, he told me that he had planned to take me to a park he had heard about called "Rainbow Springs". He thought we could take a walk and maybe even have a picnic. I told him that it was okay, we could do it another time. I was sincerely impressed by the thought...but he insisted we try going anyway. It was only 25 minutes away.

He packed and I waited. Now, he is a Soviet Defect and whenever we go anyway, he prepares as if we are crossing the border permanently. So it was not unusual to have him grab something to eat, something to drink, and a bag he carries everywhere with other useful supplies.

Then we drove in silence (his throat was a bit sore so I didn't want to bother him). I looked out the window and enjoyed the scenery. It was a beautiful day, sunny and warm and it was a part of town we had never been to - albeit remote, I liked looking at the orange groves and little farm houses as they went by.

All of a sudden, he pulled into a lot.

"It should be close by here, but I don't want to waste time being lost. I'm going to ask for directions here."

Okay, I thought. I was listening to music and enjoying the fresh air from the open window. He took a few minutes and when he came back, he opened the door and said "You know what? This place is a bed and breakfast, we should stay sometime."

I agreed that sounded nice.

"Rainbow Springs is just up this road, but lets take a look around first. It we like the place, we can make plans to stay some day."

Okay. I got out and looked around. It was a place that had several little cabins on the property - a garden - a pool - an adorable house with a big patio and outdoor furniture.

"It's nice," I agreed. We walked down a path that was winding between the cabins.

"Hey, let's look inside the cabin." He said approaching one door.

"Stop! We can't just go inside!" I protested.

"No, the guy inside said this is a sample cabin, you're allowed to look inside this one," He explained. Oh. That makes sense.

We looked inside at your typical romantic setup -- cannopy bed, fireplace, spa tub, little table with champagne.

I turned to him, he was standing in the doorway.

"I love it, we should definitely stay sometime," I said beginning to head for the door to leave.

"Geez, you can't take a hint, can you? We are staying here. This is our room for the weekend."

Married 3 years this July - expecting our first baby. Never had such a romantic weekend since!

What was your best Valentine's Day?

Have you ever received a care package? It's like Christmas just for you. If you really want to make someone's day - send them a care package. They're not just for soldiers or college kids, they can be for anyone.

If you want to make a killer care package, you must have these elements:

1) Practicality - some items in the care package must directly benefit the recipient and this varies depending on who the recipient is...an elderly person needs that 'rubber husband', a soldier needs that silly string, a college kid needs that $10.

2) Indulgence - some items in the care package should be something fun or unique that the recipient would really like, but not spend on themselves: candy, slippers, miniature bottles of alcohol, a funky writing utensil. Think guilty pleasures here.

3) Inside reference - to complete a killer care package, at least one item should lend itself to an inside joke that is shared between you and the recipient: a stuffed squirrel, a salt shaker, one blue sock -- only you (and the lucky care package receiver) knows what it means.

What is the best care package you have ever given or received?

My earliest memories have a common thread: Teddy Beddy - my security blanket.

A big, white square with a blue, polka-dot trim and rainbow ruffles around the edges - "Teddy" was an appliqué teddy bear with sleepy eyes who was holding his own, smaller version of the blankie itself.

On the way to pre-school (a whining, hive-inducing, hiccuping, drama), on the way to the doctor (a begging, pleading, sobbing, adventure), before bed, while watching a movie - I liked to have Teddy Beddy with me all of the time. I liked the way it smelled. I never sucked my thumb, but I would bunch him up under my head and stick my nose in the pile of cotton - just breathing in his smell (which was a combination of mold and tears according to my mother) could calm me down.

After a washing, it would take a week before he "smelled right" again. If I went to grandma's house, I missed my mommy and Teddy Beddy smelled like home. But when I came home, Teddy Beddy seemed to smell like grandma's house and I'd want him washed.

Ironically, Teddy Beddy had been purchased by my grandmother before I was born. He was part of a crib set.

As I grew, my love for Teddy Beddy did not diminish and when I was 8 or 9, that became it's own source of anxiety. Maybe I was weird? Everyone would laugh if they knew I slept with a blankie! If I went to a sleepover party, I stuffed him in the bottom of my sleeping bag so I would have him in the middle of the night.

When I was 13 and still liked to sleep with him - I thought it meant I would never have a boyfriend. But I still wasn't willing to part. Although, notedly, burying my nose in his soft, tattered body didn't make me feel as good as it had when I was 5.

When I went off to college, I put him in a box with some other mementos and I was long over worrying what someone else might think of my blankie.

Since he went in the box, I graduated from college, got married, and got a master's degree. I'd still pull him out when my grandparents visited - filled with holes, missing 90% of his stuffing - no more blue trim (it has faded) or rainbow ruffles (they're just grayish) - to hear them exclaim "I can't believe you still have that thing!" and "Best investment I ever made!".

Now, 6 months pregnant, I received a package yesterday from my grandmother (great grandmother to be!). It was a super-soft, fuzzy blue blankie with an adorable teddy bear face in the middle. Decidedly more "masculine" than my blankie with a note that read:

"I hope the baby loves this one as much as you loved Teddy Beddy!"

Uh-oh, I thought. Do I really want to have to worry about ensuring this blankie's constant presence in my son's life!? Teddy Beddy once got FedEx-ed to California when we forgot him and on the plane - my mother told my father "I am NOT staying in a hotel room with this (pointing at me) child without that blankie!"....it was at the hotel before we were, like magic (to me at the time).

Last night, I took Teddy Beddy out of his box and curled up in bed with him as I drifted off to sleep...he smelled like childhood and innocence.

When I was in high school, my best friend and I had a caustic sense of humor and would often say "nothing brings people together like hate!" This sentiment in summed up in the well-known quote - "an enemy of my enemy is my friend".

You can see many groups that are founded on hate; not all necessarily well-established groups like, well, all of North Korea or the KKK...but groups of simple friends who have nothing in common other than things that they do NOT like. Americans were united for a short time after 9/11...in their hatred for what happened. Once we started to sort things out though and we could not longer agree what to hate (Muslims or American Imperialism), it all went to Hell and we were back in our segmented groups.

A love for something quickly burns out, say, the book club I started a few years ago. Happy, content people can be pretty flaky, skipping yoga class, forgetting your quilting club. Happy, content people don't have a desire to get together with other happy, content people to talk about what makes them happy...while people often throw back a few beers and rant for hours over the same things that they hate.

Perhaps it is because happiness is more transient and varies so much from individual to individual. For example, some people are moved to tears by a sunset. Others are moved by a sunset, but only if it's wedged between two mountains, for another it's the sunset over the beach. For those who drive home from work in the Westard-ly direction - it's just a blinding pain in the ass.

Things people hate, however, are concrete: taxes, red lights, the View, the "No Spin Zone"....these things are solid, you can reach out and grab them.

"I love sunsets"...is often met by blank stares, but say "I hate traffic" and more than one person (if people are around) will chime in with their enthusiasm for hating traffic as well. They may even share an amusing anecdote. Who knows, if you hate enough of the same things, you could be soul mates!

They say blood is thicker than water, maybe so. But hate is stickier than love. People who hate together, stay together.

1. The way their big, muscle-y hands get that knot right between your shoulder blades out with just a few squeezes

2. How they go and squash, trap, squish, or otherwise destroy the spider that is preventing you from going into the bedroom, even if they are rolling their eyes at us

3. When they randomly include you in their enthusiasm for football, basketball, soccer, or baseball...like they have temporarily forgotten you don't care and have no clue about what they're talking about

4. The way they reach out and hold your hand like it's no big deal when you least expect it

5. How they are the last one to go to bed so they lock the doors and turn out the lights and you get to just be safe in bed

6. Jars of pickles, salsa, pig's feet, and tomato sauce - BAM! open

7. The way he forgets Valentines Day and then buys twice the chocolate and cards on the 15th because he knows it bothered you and also proudly states that it was all "1/2 off!"

8. Times when you ramble on about the kids you teach, your girlfriend's crappy boyfriend, or your mother's criticism...and he just actually listens to you, smiling

9. You come home after a long day at work and, surprise!, he made dinner....grilled cheese sandwiches and kool-aid...and it tastes so good!

10. The moment he is first vulnerable with you and lets you know a sad secret about the way he feels about his father, best friend, sister, or pet dog that passed away

11. How good he smells when he first gets out of the shower

12. The way his hair feels after he gets a buzz-cut and he keeps shooing your hand away from feeling it

13. The way he eats pizza while he has his feet up on the coffee table, watching something funny on TV and laughing out loud -- offers for you to sit next to him when you walk by

14. Moments when, the way he holds you, it really feels like making love and not just sex

15. The way he makes raunchy sex fun even when you think you're not in the mood

16. When you come up with your own inside jokes and he doesn't mind bringing them up in public to make you laugh

"Eeek!!" I yell at the furry spider next to the toilet, jumping onto it for safety. My heart is beating wildly and I have goosebumps. Great, now I'm stranded in the bathroom until my husband comes by to save me. I adjust my feet on the top of the toilet seat...making sure the hairy beast with 8 legs doesn't try anything fancy...like suddenly bolting from my sight and winding up in my towel as I go to dry off from my shower. I call for my husband to COME QUICK!

Suddenly, I imagine my future 4 year old daughter screaming for me to come to her room. Her dad is at work and when I arrive in her bedroom, I see the same furry spider on her wall. What to do?...what to do? Instill her with an irrational fear for the rest of her life? Allow a dime-sized, harmless arachnid to reduce her to a helpless, 18th century maiden? No! I scoop up the spider in a cup, covering it with a piece of paper...show it to her.

"Spiders are good for the environment. They won't hurt you. Isn't he kinda cute?" I'll say. Then I'll take her outside with me and we'll release him. After we read "Charlotte's Web", I'll tuck her into bed...and then shudder as I take a shower, scrubbing the icky spider cooties off of me like it's moldy cheese and feces!!

So I wasn't stranded in the bathroom for 20 minutes. I wasn't reduced to a helpless, 18th century maiden. I'm also not quite a nature-loving hippie just yet so I didn't capture the furry monster, I smooshed him. But, this is definitely one step closer to capture and release. Today I smoosh spiders, tomorrow - who knows?

What kind of example will I set for my future child? It has certainly given me pause to look at my own personality traits and consider those I hope my child can avoid.

I hope he or she can capture spiders with a laugh at everyone around them who is shrieking...telling them how they're "good for the environment" and "nothing to be afraid of".

What I learned thus far was that pretending not to be afraid has pretty much the same result as actually not being afraid...and so -- sometimes -- it's okay to be kind, be brave, be wise, be cautious, be happy, or be forgiving...even if you're just pretending for the moment. Because, sometimes, the end result is more important than a genuine intention.

There was a time in the U.S. and it still exists in many places in the world - where grandparents lived with their children.

Recently, I met my mother-in-law for the first time as she came in from Russia. My husband had not seen her in 13 years. She has a syndrome that causes severe arthritis and despite being only 72, she is in pretty rough shape. Of course, she is very "old school" - she kept poking my ribs and saying I was too skinny to have kids (my husband and I have started trying), she brought me three pairs of socks and a shawl that she had knit, she made dinner every night, brought an entire box of Russian chocolate candies, and admonished anyone who said anything nasty in front of us women.

My husband told me that, in Russia, grandparents essentially raise their grandchildren. Parents have to work and when they come home, they are tired or want to play with the kids so grandparents prepare dinner and wash the clothes.

There are benefits to this way of doing things. Children gain appreciation for the elderly, specifically, their grandparents. Meanwhile, grandparents get to feel useful, needed, and being around children can keep them young. Parents save money on child care. Grandparents save money on a mortgage and possibly a nursing home later in life.

In America, grandparents often live far from their grandkids and grandkids feel awkward and bored around their grandparents. In Russia, grandparents are a playmate for many years. And they are not alone.

I have to say, it was enjoyable to sit around the table in the evening, eating tradional Russian foods, hearing stories about the old Soviet Union. I couldn't see how it would be bad to have our children exposed to this way of home life.

Maybe we're missing this concept in America. Why can't grandparents be a more integral part of raising our families?

I was told this story by the man who lived it while working at a funeral home last year. It was and will remain the most powerful love story I have ever heard. I am not sure if it is inappropriate and have gone back and forth, but have decided, since it is technically public information, to share the link to the obituary for the woman whose passing brought this story to me. I implore you to observe it only with the utmost respect and dignity (follow link, search for memorial, last name: Williams). The obituary does not share with you this very true, very real, heart-breaking, heart-warming love story that I will tell you now....

James and Alyce met when they were just 17 and 16 respectively. It was a whirlwind romance and they were quite swept up in eachother, but it wasn't long before WWII had James packing for Europe (he was in the Navy). James provided me with a photo of himself and Alyce at a train station, him in his uniform, her in button up dress and heels, arms around eachother, smiling for the camera. That was the last time that Alyce would see James for over 60 years.

You see, James was a little concerned about how quickly Alyce and himself fell for eachother. He hadn't been with any other girls and the war was eye opening to say the least. He was ashamed to admit it, but he used the opportunity of being overseas to lose contact with Alyce.

Naturally, Alyce's heart was broken when her letters stopped being answered. She was worried about James and didn't know what happened to him. She still loved him dearly. Alyce decided to do something amazing, she joined the Navy. James doesn't know why exactly, but as a woman, I can guess that she simply wanted to be closer to him. I'm sure she knew that it wouldn't lead to their reunion, but it would keep him closer to her somehow. So, imagine that, a young girl joining the Navy during WWII!

Years passed. James came home, fell in love, married, had children. He was a good Catholic man, faithful, kind, loyal, hardworking. He was a good husband and a devoted father. His wife passed away after 40 years together. James was heartbroken and as he healed, he began to think back to his first love, Alyce. He couldn't explain why, but he wanted to find her and make sure she was okay.

Being smart and determined, and with the help of modern technology and his children (who were totally supportive) - he did find Alyce. She was relatively easy to find because of the unique spelling of her name and the fact that she had never gotten married and had the same last name. James was delighted to be in touch with her and crushed to find out she had a very tough life. She had spent her life caring for her sick parents and brother, ironically, injured in the same war James was in. She had no children and had been in a bad relationship.

James told me this: He loved the mother of his children, they had a good life together. His heart was broken because he felt like he was meant to be with Alyce and that her life was damaged because their destiny was to have been together. He felt responsible for Alyce's unhappy life. He felt guilty for being in love with a woman who was not his wife. He was angry with himself for being so immature all those years ago. He was determined to make Alyce's life as happy as he could for as long as he lived.

In 1999, they got married. Judging by the plethora of photos, I'd say she had a very happy decade with James that made up for her heartache.

For the funeral procession, he asked that we play "Red Roses for a Blue Lady". He said it was "her song". It haunts me now when I hear it....seeing James help close Alyce's casket, tears flowing as he followed it to the hearse. After everyone was gone, the song continued to play in the funeral home and I listened to it as I strolled through the vistiation room, looking through her photos on display and reflected on their special story. Listen to it here.

Here's to you, Alyce. I hope you know how much James loved you.

As communication between Democrats and Republicans begins to erode, I look around and wonder how things can ever be mended. With each side so eager to deliver a punishing blow, how can we ever overcome this bitterness? Each insult, each lie serves as another brick in the wall that divides this country and separates us both (Ds and Rs) from our ultimate goal: a healthy, prosperous nation.

The wall appears so fortified, I am left with a sinking feeling that it is impossible to break down. But then I recall that it has been done before - there was at least one before that chipped away at a very similar wall not that long ago. And it is to him that I implore you to turn: Martin Luther King, Jr.

Most school children and adults alike can recall his infamous "I Have a Dream..." speech, but a lesser known speech speaks more directly to the current plight of our nation: Loving Your Enemies. Martin Luther King, Jr. was a powerful leader because he did not ask his followers to fight fire with fire. On the contrary, he asked his followers to consider that the only thing necessary to defeat their enemy was self-improvement and sincere love.

Give them no reason to yell. But if they yell anyway, whisper. Give them no reason to punch. But if they punch anyway, hug. Give them no reason to say NO. But if they say NO anyway, say YES. Follow the rules exactly.

Please consider these words, spoken by MLK, Jr., from the perspective of politics, namely, the Democrat perspective:

Another way that you love your enemy is this: When the opportunity presents itself for you to defeat your enemy, that is the time which you must not do it. There will come a time, in many instances, when the person who hates you most, the person who has misused you most, the person who has gossiped about you most, the person who has spread false rumors about you most, there will come a time when you will
have an opportunity to defeat that person. Love is creative, understanding goodwill for all men. It is the refusal to defeat any individual. When you rise to the level of love, of its great beauty and power, you seek only to defeat evil systems. Individuals who happen to be caught up in that system, you love, but you seek to defeat the system.

Because if you hate your enemies, you have no way to redeem and to transform your enemies. But if you love your enemies, you will discover that at the very root of love is the power of redemption. You just keep loving people and keep loving them, even though they're mistreating you.

So, I will beseech you, my bleeding heart liberals, my lovers of peace, charity, and freedom - Love Your Enemy. Make a pledge to yourself, to your family, to your country, to your friends to end the cycle of hate where you can. Make the pledge for a day, for a week, for a month that you will not insult your enemy; you will not try to defeat your enemy. Make a pledge to remember that when you respond to hate, ignorance, and evil with hate, ignorance, and evil you destroy only YOURSELF and leave no possibility of changing your enemy.

No matter how tempting it feels, no matter how much your blood boils - hold your tongue. It is not weakness! It is the ONLY true strength in the vicious cycle of hatred.

I speak to my fellow Democrats because I honestly believe we are on the right side of history. Join me in an effort to live up to our ideals, it is crucial that we love our enemies if we are to achieve our common goals. I hope you can fully absorb the words above and understand their message.

Please go to the website below for the full wisdom of MLK, Jr.'s "Love Your Enemies" speech:

http://www.famous-speeches-and-speech-topics.info/martin-luther-king-speeches/martin-luther-king-speech-loving-your-enemies.htm

Hey Mom, remember when I cried everyday of preschool and always sobbed at bedtime? You would make your "mad face" and point to the school or my bedroom and I'd obediently go even though I wished you would hug me. You confessed you were sometimes worried I wouldn't want to hug you after school or in the morning. I'm glad I always did. So were you.

Remember when you put my hair in a bun for ballet until I learned I could do it better than you? Remember when I wanted to become a vegetarian, but I hurt your feelings when I didn't like your Eggplant Parmesan and decided to give it up? I wish I knew at the time that was called support.

Remember when you told me I was like a tazmanian devil and I left a "trail" of messiness wherever I went and we'd argue about whether my room was technically "clean" and you said you felt like you were wasting your breath? Well, not much has changed. Sorry.

Do you remember the time we went shopping for my junior prom dress and I wanted to a buy a thong to go under it? I complained that you can't wear regular underwear because then people would see your panty line and you said "what's wrong with people knowing you wear underwear?" And we laughed until we cried. And then on the ride home, I played a new CD and the song had curse words, you demanded to know where I got the CD and I said "You gave it to me for Christmas" and we laughed again until we cried. You said, "I guess you think I'm getting old and out of touch." You were wrong. I thought you were understanding and funny.

You said I should worry about my career first and boys second....that I should never stop dancing....that I should not wear belly shirts....that I should know better than to pout....wait to have sex....tell you if I was in trouble.....be nice or be quiet.....not be such a "worry wart".....remember my little sister looks up to me.....and know that you're proud of me.

You said I would understand someday. That I should never have regrets. When grandpa got Alzheimer's, you said that if it ever happened to you, I shouldn't beat myself up if I had to put you in a nursing home. You said, "I'm always just a plane ride away", "Don't limit yourself for anyone", "You'll change more diapers than your husband, it's not worth fighting over", "If you're being a bitch, just admit it!", and "Are you listening to me?"

Yes, Mom. I was listening. And you were right. You were right about everything.