Watching my youngest of two grandsons, this one being four and a half months old, is one of my favorite activities. He likes to, while laying on his back, grab his feet and then while holding them, rock over to his side. He then smiles, even laughing out loud, as his body settles on its side, as if it was the funniest thing ever to happen.
Little Cortez is starting to turn over, but he hasn't quite figured out how to get back on his back once he rolls over to his belly. He will then fuss until someone comes over and rolls him back on his back, only to roll over to his stomach again, only to fuss about his position once more.
When I feed him he will stop sucking on his bottle for a moment, sometimes, just to look at me, as if he is trying to drink in all of the lines that make up Grandpa's face. More often than not he will crack a smile, and I will smile back at him. Then he will resume feeding time.
My oldest grandson, Cortez's cousin Ezekiel, will be approaching two years of age in November. He visits a couple of times a week when my son's work schedule overlaps his wife's work schedule, and at the age he is now he has discovered that the best seat in the house in Grandpa's lap. When we aren't sitting in my recliner jibber jabbering about things that are interesting to him, we run through the house, constantly warned by my wife that we better be careful, or one of us is going to fall and bust open our heads.
We play, and run, and wrestle until Grandpa can't take much more, and is huffing and puffing for breath.
Ezekiel always has a sly smile when he visits, especially when he realizes that Grandpa is home. He knows that with me he can have all kinds of adventures in the house, at the park, and in the yard. We play with blocks, cars, balls, and Grandpa's old fashioned video games.
I drive a big rig during the week, and at one of the locations I drive by there is a billboard that reads, "You only live once, make sure it's enough."
Looking back on my life, sometimes I wonder.
Popular opinion dictates that life is about the pursuit of pleasure, and I suppose a kind of agree. I don't believe, however, that seeking pleasure ought to be about drinking, partying, and being merry until you puke. Sure, I have a beer a few times a year, and every once in a while have a Margarita with dinner, or a bourbon and coke with friends. But I don't need that alcohol to enjoy life. Nor do I need to party, or be excessive about any other form of pleasure available in the big, wide world. Those things just don't interest me. I find more pleasure in the simpler things in life, I suppose, and in my relationship with Christ.
The powerful urges of human nature disagrees with me. Evidence of the pursuit of baseless pleasures is all around, on television, the Internet, and in our every day journey through life. Another billboard I often see sums it all up. The advertisement is for a particular hard liquor, though I do not remember which one, and it is an image of two women looking at each other seductively, one with the necklace of the other resting in her mouth. The caption to the lower right of these two women, who are rather close to each other, reads, "Things are getting interesting."
Perhaps things are getting interesting. But why should I seek pleasure in things that in the end will be unfulfilling, and carry very serious dangers with them? Youth will pass away, but the consequences of alcoholism will remain long after the final party, should that kind of excessive drinking continue. Liver damage could make life in the future pretty miserable, too. Parties, and most of our friendships, end. The decisions made today, however, will continue to haunt us, tomorrow. Promiscuity may lead to life threatening disease. Drug use may lead to an empty wallet, and a visit to a room with bars, in addition to health problems associated with the drug use. Missed opportunities, because we were chasing after pleasure instead, will leave us with a skinny bank account in the future - more often than not at a time when we really wish we had made better decisions in preparation for our later years.
Actions have consequences. Personal freedom comes with responsibility to ourselves, and those around us. We can choose to put ourselves into situations that could bite us back, or not. We can choose to be a victim of our poor choices, or use those lessons to move forward, utilizing the wisdom we gain from the storms in our lives to improve our lives in the future.
I have been asked a number of times, considering my spotted history, if I regret the choices I made in my life. Regret is not a word I use. Maybe I don't regret my choices because in the end it all came out to the positive. I did have a lot of opportunities when I was younger, and I made choices that altered the path of my hopes and dreams. All of the preparation I spent for a career in law, or journalism, ended with a couple lousy decisions. Family financial assistance offered was rejected, and college opportunities were squandered. I could have made better decisions. I am a product of my choices, and my choices were not the best I could make.
Choices are non-refundable. There is no sense in dwelling on what could have been. But, I do realize that my choices essentially had me walk over a bed of hot coals, and I survived. And it seems, at least now, that the rough trip through life made me a better person. In the end, it seems, it all worked out for the best.
Little Cortez is starting to turn over, but he hasn't quite figured out how to get back on his back once he rolls over to his belly. He will then fuss until someone comes over and rolls him back on his back, only to roll over to his stomach again, only to fuss about his position once more.
When I feed him he will stop sucking on his bottle for a moment, sometimes, just to look at me, as if he is trying to drink in all of the lines that make up Grandpa's face. More often than not he will crack a smile, and I will smile back at him. Then he will resume feeding time.
My oldest grandson, Cortez's cousin Ezekiel, will be approaching two years of age in November. He visits a couple of times a week when my son's work schedule overlaps his wife's work schedule, and at the age he is now he has discovered that the best seat in the house in Grandpa's lap. When we aren't sitting in my recliner jibber jabbering about things that are interesting to him, we run through the house, constantly warned by my wife that we better be careful, or one of us is going to fall and bust open our heads.
We play, and run, and wrestle until Grandpa can't take much more, and is huffing and puffing for breath.
Ezekiel always has a sly smile when he visits, especially when he realizes that Grandpa is home. He knows that with me he can have all kinds of adventures in the house, at the park, and in the yard. We play with blocks, cars, balls, and Grandpa's old fashioned video games.
I drive a big rig during the week, and at one of the locations I drive by there is a billboard that reads, "You only live once, make sure it's enough."
Looking back on my life, sometimes I wonder.
Popular opinion dictates that life is about the pursuit of pleasure, and I suppose a kind of agree. I don't believe, however, that seeking pleasure ought to be about drinking, partying, and being merry until you puke. Sure, I have a beer a few times a year, and every once in a while have a Margarita with dinner, or a bourbon and coke with friends. But I don't need that alcohol to enjoy life. Nor do I need to party, or be excessive about any other form of pleasure available in the big, wide world. Those things just don't interest me. I find more pleasure in the simpler things in life, I suppose, and in my relationship with Christ.
The powerful urges of human nature disagrees with me. Evidence of the pursuit of baseless pleasures is all around, on television, the Internet, and in our every day journey through life. Another billboard I often see sums it all up. The advertisement is for a particular hard liquor, though I do not remember which one, and it is an image of two women looking at each other seductively, one with the necklace of the other resting in her mouth. The caption to the lower right of these two women, who are rather close to each other, reads, "Things are getting interesting."
Perhaps things are getting interesting. But why should I seek pleasure in things that in the end will be unfulfilling, and carry very serious dangers with them? Youth will pass away, but the consequences of alcoholism will remain long after the final party, should that kind of excessive drinking continue. Liver damage could make life in the future pretty miserable, too. Parties, and most of our friendships, end. The decisions made today, however, will continue to haunt us, tomorrow. Promiscuity may lead to life threatening disease. Drug use may lead to an empty wallet, and a visit to a room with bars, in addition to health problems associated with the drug use. Missed opportunities, because we were chasing after pleasure instead, will leave us with a skinny bank account in the future - more often than not at a time when we really wish we had made better decisions in preparation for our later years.
Actions have consequences. Personal freedom comes with responsibility to ourselves, and those around us. We can choose to put ourselves into situations that could bite us back, or not. We can choose to be a victim of our poor choices, or use those lessons to move forward, utilizing the wisdom we gain from the storms in our lives to improve our lives in the future.
I have been asked a number of times, considering my spotted history, if I regret the choices I made in my life. Regret is not a word I use. Maybe I don't regret my choices because in the end it all came out to the positive. I did have a lot of opportunities when I was younger, and I made choices that altered the path of my hopes and dreams. All of the preparation I spent for a career in law, or journalism, ended with a couple lousy decisions. Family financial assistance offered was rejected, and college opportunities were squandered. I could have made better decisions. I am a product of my choices, and my choices were not the best I could make.
Choices are non-refundable. There is no sense in dwelling on what could have been. But, I do realize that my choices essentially had me walk over a bed of hot coals, and I survived. And it seems, at least now, that the rough trip through life made me a better person. In the end, it seems, it all worked out for the best.
Now, despite my poor decisions, I have emerged on the other side with a life that fulfills. I draw pleasure from my grandson's smile. I draw pleasure from being his grandpa. Such a pleasure may not be the capstone to everyone's lives, but with me, it is enough for a lifetime.
-- Political Pistachio Conservative News and Commentary
-- Political Pistachio Conservative News and Commentary
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