I’m trying to figure out how to write about my inability to write on this page…
I figure it’s because I don’t really have much worthwhile to say. I’m no great thinker – the best I can do is go on about things I find completely absurd. Perhaps if I just post daily I’ll come up with something better. After all, 1000 monkeys…
This week has been dealing with school boards and juvenile offices. The long and short of it is my wife and I got enough custody of my little sister’s 13 year old to pluck him from the jaws of the mill. The only people on both sides of the family who seem to have problems with his behavior are his parents. Wanna play with matches? We heat with wood. Throw rocks? Let’s hump these rocks out of the bottom of the pond the pigs are building. Hehehe life on comrade’s farm fits right in. He’s a good
kid – just shuffled off at home and a bit whacked from waaaaaay too much Ritalin. I call him a really cool Christmas present.
At this moment he is playing hide and seek with my son out by the barn. We three spent an hour collecting twigs, sticks and firewood earlier. I showed him how to build a fire and load the woodstove yesterday. Seems trivial unless you can see how huge it really is. Simple, basic, and fundamental stuff that escapes millions and millions of “successful” citizens. The rest of the family say they can’t believe how much of a responsibility we are taking on… Huh? As my wife says, we set another plate at the dinner table. An extra 1/2 cup of flour in the pancake mix. Gee, I gotta get a bigger official oatmeal saucepan. But we gain a hand assigned to sweeping the floor. A little help with the critters. A chum for my son. However, we didn’t run a cost/benefit analysis – just saw a refugee and grabbed him before they could throw him in that bottomless pit known as the juvenile system that cares so much.