Sometimes excellence comes along, and the rest are so mired in their mediocrity, that they get that mud in their eye, and while the kids are being bathed in starshine, their obscured eyes only see mud and they try to tab you muddy and dirty with them.
But, that starshine begins to dry the mud, and you hope that the dried mud flakes off and they begin to see what you are doing. It is not your intent to upstage anyone in your domain. In fact, you are not after pats on the back or “that a boy!”‘s. You are there for the betterment of the human race and passing ideals of character, literature, community, a love of learning, and heaven forbid-fun, on to children of different races, skin color faces, religions, and gene pools (even though we all crawled out of the ocean, and we were all refugees).
So the mud and the crap, with a little quicksand abides in their eyes and tangles their boring-same hair-dos. You walk in a professional shirt and pants, trying not to get it on you, but someway, somehow, they will fling it on you, even though they are blinded by the dark.
a grain of sand rolled down a peaceful mountainside, and it started an avalanche, small at first, then unrelenting, until all in its path was being crushed, destroyed and pushed asunder
the grain of sand, who was just a little tiny piece of rock, he looked back at the destruction he had caused, and said to the crushed, dying, bloody, and mangled:
I did not mean for this to happen. I did not realize my own strength. I am sorry.
Mrs. Cranston, her husband used to check her and her whims at the door of decorum and good taste, has taken to dying her poodles for various holidays. She has five dogs. Her husband has passed.
She dyed them rainbow when the Gay Pride parade was in session. She proudly marched.
Christmas and they are red and green. Halloween she goes orange and black, with various masks. For Veteran’s Day, they have little uniforms.
At Thanksgiving, she has little outfits of colonists and Wampanoag.
For Chinese New Year she dies them red with yellow stars like the flag, and they carry sparklers.
The dogs are humble, and they don’t mind using the bathroom behind bushes to keep up the illusion.
On a bed of lettuce, we have Swedes, Mexicans, Chinese, Taiwanese, Blacks, Okinawans, Arizonans, Local Hawaiians, Minnesotans, gays, police, firemen, military, business people, real cowboys-girls, teachers, coaches, doctors, professors, real estate agents, and some damn do-gooders. Sprinkle on some Lion’s Club presidents and a Special Olympics coach or two.
Dig in to our family. Please use Newman’s Own dressings.