The War On Childhood

It's been a rough week. Our beloved fifteen-year-old Boxer Shelby died, I had a relapse of malaria (the ringing in my ears makes conversation almost impossible), and the cancer thing seems to steal more breath each day.

Still and all, I am lucky, for some things are far worse.

Do you remember stickball played

beneath white clouds and smiling sun?

Did you amble through a forest glade,

and do nothing just for fun?

Did Saturday once call to you

with sparkle-laughter in its eyes;

much to see and more to do,

and 'round each hill a new surprise?

But today all this has got to go,

innocence comes to a close.

Now childhood's activist sex-show

and we must kowtow to those 

who demand the world be rid

of what it means to be a kid.

"But whoso shall offend one of these little ones which believe in me, it were better for him that a millstone were hanged about his neck, and that he were drowned in the depth of the sea."

Matthew 18:6

Music from Kenny Loggins, with House On Pooh Corner.

Sylvia understands this. She was denied a puppyhood. We found her abandoned in a summer field, six months old, with a dead puppy in her womb.