My name is Don. My wife is Lucille. We are known as Baby Boomers.
We “boomed out” three babies in five years. My father-in-law was concerned, I was concerned, and Lucille was concerned, that if the momentum wasn’t checked, we would do more than our share of replenishing the earth. There was too the concern whether my little 5’2” wife would be able to handle the rapidity of the current momentum without suffering negative effects.
So, I went and prayed. I asked God to give us strength. We were at a stage of purist mentality. We weren’t of a mind to control things medically or pharmaceutically. I told God that our intention was to follow Him. I also told him strength would need to come our way from some divine source. My prayer was answered.
But, as often occurs when a finite mind confers with an infinite creator, with an all-powerful God, the answer comes differently than what we expect. That #3 baby, our only son, was the last addition to our family, until our children took spouses. No medical or pharmaceutical intervention was used. God had spoken. He opens the tap. He shuts the tap.
So, is that where the term Baby Boomers hails from? I doubt it.
My only contribution to Language Arts was composition. My spelling was mediocre. My penmanship atrocious. A failing mark indicated my lack of understanding of the fundamentals of grammar. I grimaced at the school period that involved the above.
Starting with ninth grade I attended the Landmark Collegiate. Fathom that. A homespun tow-headed farm kid, riding a yellow school bus to town. A town with a general store. And attending a Collegiate, with a gymnasium!
My Language Arts teacher was soon to realize my eighth-grade marks were actually as accurate as they were unimpressive. Then one day, with a very sombre look on her face, she “hauled” me into what was known as the guidance room. It was a nondescript little room resembling a cell in a county jail. It had a singular ambiance. That being to point out the error of our ways.
Miss J looked sternly across this cold steel desk that separated authority from the guilty.
“From where did you copy the essay? Copying essays is cheating. I am very concerned,” were the charges laid. Don had produced an essay that in no way reflected his complete dislike for the language and grammar program.
I stuttered and stammered. “Miss J, I didn’t copy it. I wrote it. I did get some ideas from things I have read, but I didn’t copy it from anywhere.”
With that, Miss J’s countenance went wild. She did a really great job of recomposing herself, stating “Don, that’s a 9/10 mark. That’s fantastic!”
So, I had learned a few lessons. Our aptitudes and potential are not always as they appear.
Some of that is what has held my fascination throughout my life. I had a friend who has passed on, who was fascinated with mechanical things. And people. I was fascinated with people. And mechanical things.
My father taught, “Convince a man against his will…He’s of the same opinion still.” The object of this Blog is not to convince anyone. It is however going to “hopefully” inspire thought.
When you, the reader, don’t agree, don’t worry. I’ve been known to be wrong. Many, many times. I am not the authority on right and wrong.
Please join me next time. I will introduce you to “Broken Timber”.
