This weekend I am not going to do anything important. I am going to listen to music and pretend I can’t hear what anyone is saying to me…just like my kids. I will let them wash the dishes, feed the dogs, and take care of other things that it seems only I can do. I will walk with the dogs, and if it is raining…well that will be even better. I may paint a picture and not care if I finish, or care to  analyze why it looks the way that it does. In fact, I am not going to analyze one single thing. I will not philosophize about yesterday or tomorrow. I will not count my blessings. I will accept them just as they are in a bundle tied with prayers. Down where the pine trees grow like sand, I will find the tree that fell over the creek and has laid down like a bridge. I just might take some photos, but I will only photograph what I really care about and nothing more. I’m going to sing too, and play the piano. Joy will be my only goal. I will not cook a single item. They can all cook now. I will open up a book of poetry for children because there are no sad poems written there. Perhaps, Charles Dickens or Laura Ingalls will be read by my hungry soul. And if everyone leaves the house maybe I will listen to the Hallelujah Chorus, or some out of the way blues song that actually makes a person feel good. I will listen at full volume with the windows open. I will run all the way to freedom and back for one day, and when it is done I will step outside to open my gift. The stars! I will circle until I have seen every star that is visible. When I find a very bright one, I am going to stare at that star until I see it twinkle. I am going to be thankful for such beauty. I will pet the dogs and say sweet things to them that they do not understand, but they eagerly listen with all their heart. And at the end of tomorrow, I will lay down on a clean white pillowcase, and be thankful that like that pine tree in the woods I have been a bridge.

     How the other Half Lives is a book by Jacob August Riis who was an immigrant. I am sure you have heard of this book that portrays the lives of tenement dwellers in New York City in 1890. There were around 1,000,000 or more people living in terrible poverty. Mostly families living in one tiny room. Riis shed a light on their condition with his photographs. He didn’t even own a camera or know anything about photography when he began, but his photos helped to change the awful living conditions.

    Among my many piles of books, in various places tucked away here and there, I came across my old book. The first thing that came to mind was perspective!  There isn’t a person in the world who doesn’t carry a burden of some kind even from the least to the greatest. Personally I don’t look at people as being from the least or greatest at all…just each person having value to contribute to their world.  But if one were to use a scale, then the least of New York, the tenements, were invisible until Riis took the time and care to say something!

   The first is a photo of wash day. (mine should be a happy occasion for ever after)

   The second is a lady with tuberculosis trying to stay away from her family as she recovers.  (what a beautiful smile)