I can’t wait until our son becomes a sleep-until-noon teenager. Until then, as part of our Saturday ritual, he comes barreling in at the crack of 9am to watch cartoons.
POB (partner of blogger) gives him the paper to bring in, and she follows with coffee (and yes, I am spoiled and I am grateful every day). Our son does remember to give me a kiss before he says “controls” with his hand held out expectantly, like a Grey’s Anatomy surgeon says “Metzenbaum scissors”.
Every other Saturday, POB and our son trek off to Hebrew School downtown and leave me to putter or go to the gym or read the paper with more leisure than usual.
As much as I love my family, I am reveling in the quiet. I am focused on not letting the political mayhem, global suffering and warring intrude on these moments of personal calm.
I wish everyone, everywhere, could have a moment of calm and recalibration of priorities. It won’t turn Ahmadinejad or other tyrant into a dove, but it might ratchet down the fervor of his followers. It might even act like a balm over the “Progressives” (on my side of the political spectrum) whose high-pitched whining is indistinguishable from their counterparts on the right.
Ok, maybe those people — the mean, the evil, the obstructionists, the liars and the screamers of every nation and political viewpoint — need a month-long medically-induced coma. Then everyone else could spring into action: air-lift food and medicine and doctors and teachers to areas in need. And, we can show them that we achieved more for humanity while they were asleep than in all the years they were awake.
A month is not long enough. Maybe the calm of this morning is sending my brain into “kumbaya” mode with psychedelic rhythms.
Still, everything good starts with a dream and ends with a “kumbaya”.