Prince Albert Voice
Ever have a yen for drudgery: for plain old unexciting, repetitive, hard work?
Well, we got a big dump of snow here yesterday, so I spent a couple of hours today (as I write, Jan 29) clearing our driveway--not a short one--and parking area with a snow scoop, the kind you push ahead of you.
Just got another one of those ugly email forwards that are driving me bonkers.
Ethnically speaking, my mother was Scottish, my father Irish--likely other traces as well. My first wife was German and my sons, obviously, are Scottish-Irish-German. Esther is Scottish-English. Her children are Scottish-English-indigenous. Our grandchildren--well, forget it, this gets way too complicated.
Ah, children. Wonderful little creatures they are, their charms celebrated in song, poem and story from time immemorial.
The problem is, most of those who compose the tributes to childhood are so far removed from that stage of their own lives that they have forgotten what it was really like. So they fall back on a series of popular myths. For example:
New Year’s celebrations in my world have changed drastically over the years--and not just for me.
Among my childhood memories are listening on radio in our farm home to the events in New York’s Times Square, including, of course, Guy Lombardo’s band playing Auld Lang Syne. Only my mom, dad and brothers were present.
“It is more blessed to give than to receive.”
Sounds very noble, doesn’t it? Those words from the Bible, attributed to Jesus, are often quoted, and I most sincerely believe and commend them. Which means I have always acted accordingly, right?