I really enjoyed reading all of the posts. I guess we’re all growing and becoming stronger people.

I think that line about “my mother’s voice murmuring in the background” is WONDERFUL. I also loved the idea about scars being beautiful, and I agree with that. The scars (inside and outside) are reminders that we are survivors, that we are resilient and that we can endure pain and negative emotions and live to tell about it (or write about it). Working our way through all the bad stuff helps us with empathy. How could I say to a young person, “I know how you feel” or “I remember when I hurt that bad”, if I haven’t had my share of all that? So, here’s to the scars. We all have them, but we have survived.
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I would have to say that the best gift I could give to a young child is to tell it like it’s going to be:

Here’s the way it is, kiddo, and the way it’s going to be. I know it hurts and I know it feels as if the world is ending or that there is not one single person who understands you right now. You are probably right! Most people don’t understand how you feel right now or…they have forgotten.

It really does get better and you really do get stronger and other people do improve; they become kinder and more understanding. Some people never do though, so just know that and get out of their way when they cross your path.

Others will realize how smart you are and how beautiful you are, on the inside and on the outside, given time, so be patient. Don’t let the stupid people who cannot recognize beauty make you feel inferior or not good enough. They are out there and they always will be; some of them will even be in your family! Just don’t let them steal from you the unique and one-of-a-kind person that you are. Be YOU! Continue to grow, to learn, to try new paths and new experiences and continue to become at better YOU.

A wonderful man named Leo Buscaglia wrote a book called “Love”. One day, in my twenties, I remember him sharing a story about an awakening that one of his students had. (This was in one of his “Love” classes.) The most important rule in this class was, when you have a revelation, yell, STOP! One day, a student yelled, STOP!

She shared with the class that she’d just realized that she was a plum!

She’d always been a plum, but had tried to be a cherry or an apricot or an apple, but that she couldn’t be those things, because she was a beautiful, ripe, round, juicy and delicious plum and that this was all she needed to be. One day, she had concluded, someone who had a true appreciation for plums would come by and choose her over all the other fruit.

So, go be a plum, kiddo, or an apple or an apricot or a watermelon or whatever it is that YOU are.

That’s what I’d say, then I’d give that kid a great big squashem hug!

I grew up in a family of nine children, where attention was hard to come by (especially with taciturn yankees as parents) and I believe it made me independent and resourceful, but I would have loved to have somebody pick me up in a bear hug occasionally. That’s what I’d do for a kid like me, pick ‘em up and swing ‘em around and squeeze ‘em.

Smile, Mr. A!