As I watch portions of my childhood home burn, I cannot think of words to describe my sorrow. It is sad, unfair, unthinkable. It is happening whether I want to believe it or not.
I am watching from a short distance – close enough to see it on the news, too far away to be of any real help. Every news update is a knife to the heart: over 70 homes burned, 80, 92. There is nothing I can do or say now, while the fire rages. But when flames finally, finally die, I will find a way to help, and I will act.
Dear friends in Black Forest, you are in my thoughts. Structures may burn, but our memories are precious and present.
20 feet from the church I grew up in.
I found this video on you tube … brings back memories! It also me made me wax philosophical about the quality of childhood today. Is it just me, or is everything about kids these days more manic? My son hardly has a toy that doesn’t light up AND talk AND sing AND come in about a thousand different colors. He won’t even look at his stuffed animals. They’re too boring. Will my son grow up thinking Mr. Roger’s Neighborhood is too boring? I hope not.
I remember the day I heard Mr. Rogers had died. I cried all the way through the PBS special. It was like part of my childhood died with him. But Mr. Rogers still exists – you can watch old re-runs on Nextflix and Amazon. My son will get to see Mr. Rogers, just like I did. I just hope we haven’t ruined for him with our lifestyle of constant entertainment or even just constant noise – on our phones, in our cars, on our iPads and laptops and televisions. I hope my son will be able to appreciate calmness. I guess we’ll just have to do our best as parents and see.