I had a good discussion last night with my son (19) about how the United States differs from the Late Roman Empire; if you have read "The Ominous Parallels" by Leonard Peikoff (sp?) you'll know what this discussion was about. In going back to school at the age of 49, I have re-entered a world in which discussion and thought matter...at least, they are elevated to a level of first importance. I feel at home here! Maybe this is why I love teenagers. There are many reasons. I especially like the way my friend Missy put it: no one is more passionate; teenagers want to change their world. The odd thing (perhaps not in our house) was that this talk with my son followed a fight with him. One thing that I am glad to have done with long ago, is the searching for one's place in the world; that "right" career, job, school, field, lifestyle, etc. I wish that I could be more of a friend to my grown son, but I know it takes time, and our relationship is still going through a massive upheaval. I wish I could reassure him that everything will be okay; but he's too old for that. I would like to just be at peace in my house; not necessarily in control, just amiable and comfortable. This is anathema to the young. They cannot understand how I can sit down when I am tired or in pain, in the midst of all this mess and chaos; I can't explain that it will all still be here tomorrow, and I'd rather not push myself to the point of a crying breakdown. They wrestle with the fact that other folk's moms work full time, cook every night, do all the cleaning, and can stay up late and watch movies with them, but I can't. "Can't" is a really unfortunate word to use around the young. They do not want to hear it! Who can blame them? It is one of those ugly realities that pops into perfectly awesome lives and wreaks mischief wherever it goes. I sympathize. But the truth is, often, I cannot do the thing that is desired. The fatigue and pain are invisible; they swiftly descend without warning; like guerrillas they jump out from lovely scenery and assault me. This is so detrimental to the life of my family; I can live with what I must, but my young adult children are left to figure out their own roles in this wierd and topsy-turvy house; it is not simple; it is not clear what should be done. Ah well. More later.

Hello

This is my first attempt at a blog of my own. I plan on writing several posts before sharing it with my friends; it seems odd to have the freedom to write whatever I want for myself, but the means to publish it to the world. I have thought about doing this for a long time, but today, reading a blog produced by someone associated with the Free Iran movement, Blogger asked if I'd like to create one of my own. Strange sequence of events, since I want my own blog for writing poetry, musings on life, and memories! That is the internet: the ultimate marketplace!