Those Grotesque Experiments!

The gore of it all! Grotesque experiments, in the name of research, have been performed on unsuspecting beagle puppies. To add shock to injury their vocal cords were removed. (Screaming can be so distracting, I guess.) Now, it's the monkeys turn to be ambushed and tortured. If only they were well connected and had oodles of money. They could move the 'needle' and collude in the 'name of science'. Where have I heard that phrase before? Let's blame science if common sense is seriously lacking.

Boundaries are no longer any measure to the contempt the powerful have over those they deem less than 'human'. (But we put them there!) ... Beagles, they say, are more like humans and easier to torture. My sweet boy, my furry grandson, a member of the beagle family, is a gentle, trusting soul who sleeps behind my back or on my husband's lap when he can. He would be the perfect victim to those ready to inflict injury or dissect, in the name of science, of course. There's that phrase again. Science is non partisan, an ally of mother nature - not us!

We, the people, are unaware, too trusting, naive, dumb, perhaps, oblivious to the behind the curtain antics of those in government who believe they are smarter, wiser and more connected than we are. In the last century, atrocities were committed upon unsuspecting people and groups. Many in power knew but kept quiet. The news media kept a blind eye to the genocide apocalypse in the last century. There were so many. The internet did not exist. If only it had.Would it had made a difference?

The pandemic has opened numerous doors of deception. Our trusting nature is gone! We know too much. There never was a wizard. Like the poor beagle puppies we have heard about, we also are the compliant tools for the elite, wherever and whoever they are. Let us not doubt our own ability to think and decide for ourselves. The therapies and pills in place to augment medicine's protocols are being downplayed and discouraged by some governing elite. Vaccines are a part of the solution.  The media aids and abets!

A horrible plague has blanketed the earth. The very young, the very old and the poor are its imminent victims. Inhaling the very gas - carbon dioxide - we were meant to exhale, while wearing masks non-stop, is not science.  It is a contradiction of it. Now, we are learning, masks can be ineffective depending upon many factors.

Children born since the pandemic began are now being labelled as developmentally delayed. Unable to see faces and watch lips, these brand new humans have a reduced capacity for being fully engaged in a normal way, daily. Mimicry, facial recognition, laughter, smiling, pure silliness and happiness, a part of the human experience and the learning process, in children's imaginary world, are now at risk.

The world has had enough! Time stands still for no one. It's now our turn at the wheel!

How It All Began. ...

It began with an abandoned puppy, left in a large Toronto park, in 1971, found by life guards. My brother was one. As though in a race, I was next to catch her. The three-month-old beauty became ours - forever!

I was not familiar with the retriever breed, back then, but didn't care. A baby dog needed a home. (Who dumps dogs - old or new – just like that?) We caught our beauty - for richer or for poorer, forever. My first teaching assignment, north of Toronto, became our first home together. My 'daughter' would be ours in the country. For a period of time the three of us were homeless. She was with us for nearly ten years, dying unexpectedly, one Friday evening. The loss was like nothing I had ever experienced nor was the love she gave us. I was changed forever.

Dogs became my life. Teaching was an afterthought. I considered myself part dog, part female and part male. How could I not? I had 2 brothers, taught all male classes for those first two years, married into a family of sons, had three of my own. I was surrounded by dogs and our chronically ill 16 year old cat, adopted in 2003 as an abandoned kitten, who died 2 years ago. Her death changed me yet again. My DNA seemed to be altering. I wanted her back! Please! She was my greatest teacher. Whenever I looked at Sheba's 9 year old son, Swiller, I was reminded of his mom's love, intelligence and beauty. She had given me another life I had never expected. (She was neutered after her first and only litter of 9.) The memories began. 

We had lived in a motel room for two weeks during my first teaching assignment while my partner finalized our move north. Each day, I'd come home to find my Sheba waiting for me. Then we found the log cabin that would house us for one year. Another move in year two officially made us a family of four. Earlier in the saga we were a family of 15 whose presence was felt deeply one afternoon when the appliance box we had split releasing all 9 puppies into a mass of scurrying little critters. All was placed in good homes. As time passed four more dogs entered our hearts and minds. We are currently at number 7 and 8.

My current vehicle, a Volvo wagon, is 16 years old. Will it survive another 4 years? Hope so! Sally, our current love, is 13 years yet has forgotten her double hind leg surgeries, her cancerous tumor removal and necrotic surgeries of the past. She has no time to waste and gives me hope for my future. She is cantankerous, at times, giving me pause that her will to survive will take her well into her teens. She is a happy girl who keeps me on my toes.

Money is a limited commodity so needs to be spent wisely - on them! I'm open to new foods and ideas where she and her brother, Mr. Wiggles, are concerned. No treats just apples, pears, frozen berries, carrot and celery sticks and liver-loving cukes. ... Are we living with Mensa dogs? They remind us daily of their exercise and food routines. Their wagging tails, persistent stares and stance remind us of their stories. I cannot escape. Choosing healthy foods in our journey with our pets has made me very selective when it comes to new foods. Early commercial dog foods were abysmal. Why was glucose-fructose in there, anyway? Today, choice is mind boggling with a heightened awareness of long term health for them called longevity.

Our dogs and our Tia have made me ever so grateful, for the senior ' healthy' vehicle in our driveway and my antique phone in my purse. Both are fine.. My phone, at 26 years old, still functions as a phone. Who knew? A new one puts me closer to living on the edge, with total shopping ease, delivery and eating, out of touch. No thanks. My pets need me. They have limited resources. We don't!

Being bounced around, abused, and returned to shelters is their commonplace narrative, time and time again. It sickens me. But I do what I can. Others do so much more, however. Thank you! The Farley Foundation extends our reach so others and their pets get help during critical medical crises. Shelters are no answer. Farley is and always will be. Please donate!

The pandemic made many more of us pet owners. But do not engage in the 'return' policy that exists anywhere - on the road, in a ditch, near a river or rusty truck. Remember, these precious animals deserve better. We should be honoured 'cause animals are the real human beings!

The Best of the Best!

Women's World is the best. The magazine with a modern twist, at a cost that belies its true value, has been a Momsey mainstay for over 20 years. After a few design changes it is thicker and more 'book' friendly, at a most unbeatable low price. 

This grocery/department store treasure (Woman's World) is a compendium of animal advocacy and life stories, the 5-minute romance novel in 4-page miniature, with interesting, sometimes compelling health and diet info with compelling adjunct recipes, too. Fashion tips, trendy new looks and in-home design tips and more all enhance the appeal of a magazine that tops them all. 

Woman's World showcases the stories of others devoting their lives to animal causes of all sorts. Human interest stories begs us to think outside the box. Woman's World showers us with optimism and hope. Buying this incredible last century invention is a smart move. It is easy on the eyes and needs no charging! 

Then there is First, companion monthly read, another favorite, the magazine of excellence that adheres to a similar Woman's World format while presenting current thoughts, ideas and new ways of working. Page after page of hints, dietary, health, travel and budgetary tips and short stories keeps me glued to the magazine, a quick read with more helpful hints in all spheres. Celebrity life stories are included for trendy updates and for those of us needing validation! Near the end, pictures of animals and children engage us in the warmth of other people's lives. We are all the same under the skin! In both magazines, advertising does not interfere with our enjoyment. ----------

I will never forget Woman's World heartwarming story of a darling little pup who'd been wondering through a neighbourhood, one frigidly cold evening, and accidentally found himself in a warm place to stay. He'd walked through this home's front door, only to be locked in accidentally by a neighbor who, upon seeing his neighbor's mistake, prudently locked the pup inside, unknowingly. The precious little stray became a prisoner! .... 

Upon seeing a strange dog in his living room, the next morning, the homeowner feared a home invasion was in progress. Did the invader bring his dog with him to help with the crime, the home owner wondered? Was the criminal still in my house?. (His wife and newborn baby were upstairs with their small dog.)  A closer look at the home's security cameras solved the mystery of this precious four-legged intruder. The little pup, cold and hungry, needed shelter and found an open door. Because of the thoughtful gesture from a third party, the puppy became locked inside. A picture of his new happy family showed the little guy with his older furry brother both festooned in Christmas regalia, sitting beside his new mom, dad and baby 'sister', a happy ending like no other. 

Animal human interest stories and health info, lead The Momsey to these magazines, must reads every week and month. Reading is a must much like taking my vitamin supplements. As long as Woman's World and First, for woman, exist, I'm in my happy place, current and informed.

Missing September!

When September arrived I had posted nothing. My apologies to my reading audience. I respect you too much to ignore you. The month flew by while my mind was preoccupied with 'other things'. 

I'd had two posts ready to edit but time slipped by. I had totally forgot. Our Mr. Wiggler had a medical mystery while other matters seemed to preoccupy me. My posts suffered. So sorry!! I will endeavour to do better by you in this month of October. 

My writing became an important part of who I am when my editor - 10 years ago - told me I had to write, that the world needed to hear from me. The fire was ignited. She was 18 years old then. Sometimes, my posts interest some people. Other times, only three of you are reading my posts. Everything is relevant. Life does not change that much, decade to decade. 

I am truly honoured to have anyone reading what I write. In high school, English literature and composition were subjects that seemed foreign to me. Math and languages brightened my hours, my days. Ideas, thoughts and answers to English exam questions were always a struggle. Then I graduated and became free! I could do what I wanted to do, academically, or nothing at all. I had free will. Then something changed inside me. My writing improved. My editor appeared decades later to push me into another stratosphere - the internet. 

With freedom we have only ourselves to blame/praise for choices made. Without freedom we have the choice of blaming others. A dulling of our senses sets in. There is no direction. Effort makes no difference. We stagnate and wither away. When others control us, we have no reason to strive for excellence. We are left wondering when, while waiting and waiting for the next step which is usually more of nothing in the guise of boredom and stress. Who wins the commodity game? Probably the one closer to the top. 

If government is a formidable force in our lives, then chaos will begin to rule our everyday lives. We take a number mentally. It is invisible at the beginning, a lovely soft pillow upon which to rest. Then the fearsome begins its slow reach into our lives, a sinister, predictable distraction that slithers here and there without being noticed much until lines begin to form . When is it our turn? ...

Our children were raised to have a mind of their own. Worrying about their choices as teens and adults was not in our job description. It was theirs! Their parents had minds of their own, too, fully executed because we had power over our domain- wherever it was. We paid the bills! 

If there is no dress rehearsal, early in life, then trouble is afoot. As parents we wonder “are they o.k., is he o.k. wherever they wander. Others will assert control over them because they forgot to practice! Start them young. 

An immovable mind is a wonder to behold when it lies within your child in those critical moments in life. .. Again thank you for reading my stuff. I am truly honoured and sorry for missing September. I will endeavor to do better, much better.

Where Are My Paragraphs?

I tried posting weeks ago. It didn't take. Finally, yesterday, A New Leash on Life, arrived. After many weeks of trying to find the whereabouts of its paragraphs of this current post, help arrived. My son found my paragraphs, the separators of clear and concise thought. I had done everything I could. It was now his turn.

He began to follow the same steps as I had. The difference: the confidence and interpretation of every entry he had made. He entered more places. I had clicked where it made sense. I 'searched' everywhere. Every applicable icon was 'interviewed'. His expertise and skill came together to find a solution. The problem was not solved but the paragraphs had finally re-appeared. I was thrilled to find them.

It is difficult to read any piece of the written word without paragraphs. Paragraphs light up a page. They are the foundation upon which a book is built. Words do not jump and scatter as they are categorized into separate, cohesive ideas and thoughts, throughout. Inserting periods and commas, where necessary, helps to 'breathe' life into any 'manuscript'. I was so happy. It was like family had come to visit.

Today's post was written quickly. The end of the month is today. The return brought logic and structure back into my life. I was no longer sad. Thank you, my son. It is often been said that we value most what we take for granted and then lose. I had taken those paragraphs for granted. Never again! I'm so happy.

During these past two weeks, another grandchild was welcomed into our ever expanding family. Our granddaughter is now among four other grandchildren, all boys. I was asked about finally getting a girl. I was surprised. That had never entered my mind. Every child is a gift. Furthermore, I already had my girls: 3 incredible 'daughters' who value me as I do them. I had hit the family jackpot.

Last week, my husband and I celebrated our 49^th anniversary. It was low key. The pandemic has made us all vigilant about who and where. We ordered take out fish and chips from a well known local landmark. But sadly, the meal was less than acceptable. The chips were over done and crunchy like celery. Had white potatoes been substituted for russet while overly fried in the two-step process? The fish had been cooked too long. Was there new staff that afternoon? And finally, the coleslaw that was included with this menu option was excruciatingly absent. It hadn't been in prior orders. Why? Where was my dessert?

It would seem to me that coleslaw, if it not drowning in that silly 'creamy' dressing, is the 'icing on the cake' of any order of food, whether it be fish 'n chips, ribs or plain chicken. It is a change of pace yet repeatedly absent in many take out orders, whether asked for or included as a part of the choice with the entree. Check the bag, I say. The 'seal of hygiene' on take-out food, a first during this pandemic, allows mistakes to happen, be ignored and hopefully, forgotten. Once gone who bothers to keep track of missing food, ordered or excluded?

So, stop forgetting it or we will go elsewhere. There are other eating establishments who do care and will cater to our basic requests. Who needs cake when you have delicious coleslaw.(The cake or pie can wait another day, maybe!)

A New Leash on Life

As I turned to go inside, that morning, our wiggler decided walking was fine but only if he carried the leash. So we walked - all 3 of us. One leash, two dogs and a mystified pet owner.

Our sweet boy, Mr. Wiggles, who had been diagnosed last year with a blood disorder that was killing his platelets, was in the throes of a new world order. All rigorous exercise ceased, to be reintroduced slowly at a more appropriate time. Internal bleeding could result from indiscriminate exercise. Things had to change. One hour of exercise per day had to be maintained for our dogs. They were large moving targets of love and boisterous activity.

Mr.Wiggler would stall, occasionally, in mid-walk as if to say let's do something else. Running was not encouraged. So, one morning, I dropped the leash to the ground.. I had other things to do. But I would return. Then it happened. He picked up the leash and walked himself. Then it dawned on me. Would he walk his sister, too?

Walking in the country poses hazards not necessarily known in the city. Rabid animals can appear suddenly with fatal consequences. As I tried to walk him that day I thought of other novel ways to entice him to move. Attaching a shorter leash to him made him happy while moving. When he slowed, I would give him the honour of carrying it. His sister was there wondering what was happening. She loved to move too so exercise was no problem here. He was chunky with a penchant to stand, sit and chew grass, nearby. His diet was nutrient dense with raw berries, cukes, carrot and celery stick, among other things. A new look at exercise had him walking solo with the leash in his mouth.

The leash was his new best friend. Into the house it would go, attached to the beautiful face of our wiggler. He loved to carry it while in there, too. We were amused but grateful that chewing grass, sitting and watching the neighbours were no longer that important to him. A new 'leash' on life was garnering his attention and ours, too. New leashes were on our agenda once the lock down was finished. Different textures would be added to give him a reason to walk, maybe to run.

A while back, gloves were his focus, so we took to throwing a garden glove for him to fetch. It worked till it did not. He had what trainers call a soft mouth. Nothing was ever torn. He simply wanted to carry stuff. If the leash meant that much, so be it. We would accommodate this simple request, with safe leash lengths and different textures. In the fenced enclosure, he would walk, preferably, with the leash in his mouth. His sister would walk with him, attached to the leash, with the other end in his mouth. I walked alongside the cavalcade, making sure Mr. Wiggles was not twisting 'Sally' into a pretzel with sudden gestures and backward maneuvers. I did not want her to fall. Her history of torn ligament surgeries keeps me mindful of her Olympic status. She never complains and is always fearless. A sports injury is just a stone's throw away for her.

Today, we walk our pets to keep their hearts and muscles in top shape. Mr. Wiggles gets the leash and brings it to me. He sits while I attach it to him. He's quiet. He knows the drill. Different strides and quickened paces help to re-awaken our hearts and minds to this newer outdoor routine. Walking is the best form of exercise, anyway. It is readily available, affordable and easily shared with others.

Dogs are only to happy to remind us to get up and go. They live in the present and offer no excuses. They want to run, fetch, or carry, some of them; but one in particular, our Mr. Wiggles, prefers just to  walk and carry. And I'm too happy to let him do it, sort of.

The Log Splitter Incident

The guttural scream pierced the silence of a Fall day. As I ran back to the house. I watched as our son paced, hoping his quickened strides would produce enough adrenaline to quash the intense pain emanating from his mangled hand, the target of a misguided log splitter sitting nearby. The blood, splurting down his raised hand, camouflaged the mangled fingers which had been in the wrong place at the wrong time, a few seconds earlier. He paced as any man would when excruciating pain came calling.

He watched his dad start the truck for the trip. He jumped in and away they went. This brand new log splitter machine had caught his eye. (and hand as it turned out!). New machinery or tools were things of beauty to him. Today his admiration had turned to agony. The distraction hurt much too much.

I would not call his wife. What could I tell her? I was not a witness nor could anything I say help her in any way.The truth would come soon enough. Dad called to explain the event. Soon her husband would be home. He'd asked his dad to go home. No sense waiting in the emergency room. The wait could be lengthy. Go home. He would call. Dad left. Then the comedy tour began.

Dad assured his 'daughter' that her husband was fine. Soon, the call came from the hospital. The patient was ready to leave, sooner than expected, by everyone involved. Everything that could be done had been done. “Pick me up, now”, John advised. Before dad could leave their house, however, the cell phone rang again. “Pick me up at the dairy.” John had walked to this famous local landmark, a brisk walk away from the hospital, but closer to home. “O.K”. responded dad. “Was he buying ice cream for himself?”his wife wondered. As dad was about to leave, again, the phone rang. 'John' was waiting at the Home Hardware store, hoping to shorten the trip further. Now what? “Was he buying a new tool, his wife remarked, incredulously”?

His love of  Dewalt power tools was well known. As a young boy, he and his younger brothers, adored Lego and the assorted wooden blocks - the toys of future architects, engineers, mathematicians, scientists, builders, and creative thinkers - that needed to be assembled in the living room. ...  As a young man, his interests grew. He replaced toilets, laid ceramic tiles in a new bathroom, refurbished our kitchen with a brand new tiled back splash and built a tall wood box, near the fireplace, beautifully finished for mom to replace several large cardboard boxes that had been used over the years. 

To encourage this most sought after skill set, we encouraged our oldest to fix, replace or repair anything he deemed important. He needed the practice. We needed the repairs. He was paid. Everyone was happy. I was overjoyed. Who would do such tiny projects, anyway? These jobs were too small for most companies but not for our son. He was learning on the job, a skill that would yield dividends in the future for him and us thankfully. But really, “Why was he at the hardware store”?, both his wife and dad wondered out loud.

More calls to his dad indicated he was still walking. He was now near the animal clinic, then the cellular phone company on the corner across from the main plaza. He'd completed this self-imposed journey on foot while his dad wondered if he was on his way north to the town of Sharon. He'd cut the mileage down by 4 kilometers, so far, moving to reduce mileage and be productive. Eventually his dad's vehicle caught up to him. walking north.

His mangled sutured fingers, now held rigidly in place by splints, seemed soothed by this walking routine. Healing must be in progress, he imagined. An injured left-hand in a right-handed world. Tough road to follow for now. But he was in a hurry. His wife and two-year old son were waiting. Walking helped him ignore his medical condition. Things could always be worse, anyway.

He'd always been a fighter - even as a preemie - when he entered the world 3 months too soon in early 1979 with no hope of survival. Few babies survived. Even fewer males. Preemie mother's milk, a unique 'formula' provided him with unheard of health benefits. He was our 'jumping bean' at birth, a whirling dervish throughout his childhood and an amazing talented funny man now. Voice impersonations, too, kept us laughing. Nothing could hold him down for long, not even a log splitter

Today, he would take a break. He had no choice. He had to listen. His doctor said so; his father-in-law, too. He needed to heal, do his exercises, take his medication and behave himself. For now, the log splitter would have to wait. The Fall season had just begun. The next round would be much safer and fun, too. Another lesson learned.

A Parent's Agony

Everything is critical in these Covid times. No one knows better than governments, we are told, often enough. We are incapable of making healthy decisions for our children, they say. Only employees of the government know anything, having the wisdom, insights and rights that have been bestowed upon them by us!

Government has become this know-it-all monolithic behemoth employing too many people - elected and otherwise - making random, foolish, nonsensical decisions, enacting rules, without formal protocols in place in consultation with us, their employers. They work for us. Remember that!

Fickle governments lie in wait everywhere ready to rule the tax payers, we hard working human money machines, creators of the ever-popular, ever-enduring and all-important tax dollars. Our money is theirs for the taking to spend at will ensuring the power structure remains in tact dictating to the 'working class' what is in their best interests. We know little. 'They' know it all! We must behave and stay quiet. WRONG!!

During this period of upheaval, our children's health and well being are being sacrificed. 'School' is where our children belong. It is their world! It is their life! Yet the world of neuroplasticity has never been mentioned. It is the cornerstone of learning for this unique group of burgeoning adult humans. They say follow the science. Well, neuroplasticity is science! (The most powerful computer in the world is the human brain. Einstein says. Makes logical sense to TheMomsey) The building blocks of the human brain, however, begins at birth. That is science!

The shaping of the very young brain has been dealt a blow. Learning is now at high risk. Children are learning by interactive live t.v. For many this is substantive care. Social interaction is forbidden, in many places. Those children deemed special needs are at greater risk.  The hand is the next greatest learning tool for children. Learning lost is overwhelming and sometimes irretrievable.

The growth and reorganization of the neural pathways of the minds of babies and children occur daily. But while these tiny building blocks of thought are in lock down, so is learning. Intellectual growth stagnates and begins its downward spiral. 

Fun is at the core of learning for the very young. This is not a game. The pruning and remodeling of the young mind is a non-stop process resulting from a medley of daily 'novel' experiences arising from the social interaction between children and a caring silly adult. These special three dimensional moments boost explosive intellectual activity igniting memory, focus and higher order thinking. It is a seamless trail of learning fun.

The re-opening of schools should have happened long ago. In many jurisdictions it did. Moms and dads are tired of waiting for a return to normalcy. Is home schooling the answer? Could be for some. It is a growing phenomena where the parent has absolute power over the daily learning structures and objectives of their children. Creating a neighborhood block of home schoolers could be one answer. Each parent within a 'pod' takes a day- with the help of other like-minded parents within the structure - to create the academic trajectory for their children. Bullying ceases to be a problem any longer. The focus is on reading, writing, spoken language, mathematics, music and higher order thinking - as it should be. How those feats of intelligence are accomplished matters little. That is simply called curriculum. What matters most is engagement, the absolute tools of the learning trade for the very young.

As he ran up to the tire tread mark left in our gravel driveway, he remarked “tire indentation”. I was shocked. He had remembered another 'indentation' weeks ago, an unusual mark, he observed on our living room carpet. At that time, I explained why it had occurred: a sofa had been moved months ago. Indentation, weight, time, wear and tear highlighted that earlier learning moment. While I spoke, his interest grew as he noted this carpet curiosity. The science of that event had travelled with him, until today, when he saw a similar deep mark in our driveway. (It was a car this time not a sofa.) His scientific mind had understood the phenomenon, then and now.  Now I was bewildered. Was this truly the mind of a 3-year-old?

The internet and pandemic have altered truth and society in ways never imagined. A parent's agony is now on full display. Education has released its own Pandora's box for us all to see and hear? An intrusion has occurred without parents' permission. The curriculum is suspect. Being held captive in our mind is a dangerous thing. Mommies and daddies are no longer sitting idly by, hoping for the best. They are now demanding it and orchestrating its return!

Momsey's Slow Return

It's been nearly 7 months since I last wrote anything. As the world began to settle into a new normal, in 2020, I watched and listened. Daily life became more complicated with dogs in recovery, one fighting a blood borne disease and babysitting a two-year-old. Priorities changed. Writing took a back seat as other concerns mattered more. The world was in lockdown, while waiting for government money. Our children were being held hostage, a scapegoat where there should have been none. Humour was needed if only to release the stress inside of us. We began to scramble for a safe place to be. The U.S. November election made hell seem like a pleasant place. Normal was now becoming an elusive destination.

Money made a difference. The mask and the washing of hands were paramount steps in taking control where none existed. Social distancing made us aware of the person near us. And I questioned, “How can those in government ('authority') have it better than those who put them there to lead?” Where was the justice or their sacrifice? Those in government were safe because they belonged to a special group, an elite group of rulers with security and a steady income stream. Two sets of rules I guess. Our eyes were opened.

Momsey endured these new circumstances. I was in a high risk group, they said. Others had it worse, much worse, I knew. The groups with the least power had it the worst: ill seniors and children. Children were considered safe. The science said so! Yet these tiny minions were still isolated, frustrated and losing ground. Their education continued to suffer, especially those children considered special needs. What were 'They' thinking or were they? I kept wondering. What about the children? Neuroplasticity was losing ground and not even being considered. Time was taking its toll on these 3-foot people. Few in education and elsewhere seemed to be listening. The plight of children was becoming headlines. To those families with children struggling to get through the day in lockdown, this was not a headline. It was life!

My mind was playing games with my writing. Covid was here wreaking havoc on our lives. Many died. Vaccines were made in 'warp speed', an unheard of phenomenon, in less than a year. His administration had made it happen. Capitalism does that. But our children were still falling behind, in great numbers. The power structure was most important to those in charge. They had the time to pontificate. The rest of us just could only wait and see for change. We knew nothing according to 'them.' Their lives hadn't seen much of a ripple. 

I have 3 grandsons now, soon another, then later this year, a girl will arrive. I read, play cars, blocks and imagine numbers, letters, other places and wild ideas while in their presence. I ask them many questions 'cause I need to know.Their thoughts and ideas mean everything to me. This is where free speech and independent thought begin. It's connected to health - both kinds. Nothing matters more. The sooner they think, the less I worry. I direct our next moves. Geometry is here to stay. Why not? Geometry is everywhere in the world. I am baba or Momsey to them. I do not care what those human jewels call me as long as they talk. Those jumble of words are the forerunner to thought!

I celebrated my 9^th year as the Momsey on March 12^th but I could not write. My followers - (I have none) - have tried to find me but maybe I'm a part of that algorithm 'they' write about. I am honoured to have a few people reading what I write. Thank you so much.Things matter or they don't. A thriving economy means everything. Free speech, too. Anything else can be dangerous. The free money will disappear one day. Then what? Where will we be then? The companies will be gone or downgraded.  Too late to fix, maybe? Regrets are silly. Our efforts now are real and what moves us forward. They are the driving forces in our lives. Together, we can accomplish the impossible. Common sense rules. Always has, always will!