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So you can say "people of color" but not "colored people."
You can say "people with disabilities" or "people with special needs" but not "disabled people" or "special needs people."
This is all in an effort to put the fact that they are people first before their ethnicity or ability. Which is cool. I have no problem with that.
But we say "poor people" or "rich people"
Why not, "people of poverty" or "people of wealth?"
Let that sit, simmer, and stew a bit...
Just a thought...
(he says tongue-in-cheek)
You can say "people with disabilities" or "people with special needs" but not "disabled people" or "special needs people."
This is all in an effort to put the fact that they are people first before their ethnicity or ability. Which is cool. I have no problem with that.
But we say "poor people" or "rich people"
Why not, "people of poverty" or "people of wealth?"
Let that sit, simmer, and stew a bit...
Just a thought...
(he says tongue-in-cheek)
Wildflower
She stands alone in a field of daisies not knowing her own beauty. I rise to see her glowing in the morning sun. She captures my stare and looks into my eyes. She's timid and anxious, not knowing the loveliness she possesses. I am privileged to see her uniqueness. She captures my stare and looks into my heart. She's nervous and insecure, yet embodies so much that others still seek. I am enthralled with her courage & self-assurance. She captures my stare and looks into my soul. How am I privileged to be the only one? My eyes become teary as I see her grow. One day she will blossom and they'll never know. What she is or what she'll become. But I'll be the one to see her amazingly bloom. I can't wait till that day. My heart flutters, my soul seeks release. She'll never know how much I love her. She's so very special and she doesn't see it... yet.
Reflection of the Dashboard Lights
When I was a small child living in Oklahoma City, Oklahoma, my family would often drive three hours to go to Dallas, Texas to visit my dad's family. We spent many holidays there. We would usually start the drive after dad got home from work and would arrive there at night. This was during the days before seatbelts were required to be worn. Because seatbelts weren't required, my brother, my sister, and I would argue about who got to lay where in the backseat. One of us would lay in the back window area, one would lay in the seat, and one unlucky soul would lay on the floor (which meant the hump in the middle was right in your back). I remember
Who Am I...
Edit: I cannot begin to tell you how much I have struggled with this. Whether to post it or just leave it be. But sometimes, healing is in the telling and releasing of it. If there was ever a time in our relationship when you thought that I was oversensitive or acted odd, then this might be the puzzle piece that makes things make sense. I am not trying to air my laundry or unload my suitcase of issues.
I originally wrote this around April 12th or so and have thought about it ever since. Today is April 27th. And now it’s the 28th and I am still nervous about posting this. I am concerned about reactions from those I love and care for.
Th
Burning Cotton
Kind of funny dad story
For those that don't know, my father passed away on Aug 1, 2014.
I know it's long, but it's kind of funny and touching. He sent this to me in an email back in 2008. I've only edited it for a couple of typos. Other than that, I've left it unchanged.
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The following took place in September of 1948 when I was six years old. At the time my dad was a sharecropper who grew cotton on a farm in Red River County, Texas. We were what one might call "dirt poor" and lived in a little unpainted shack of a house about a quarter of a mile from the Red River. We had only one family o
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Comments4
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Maybe, and I am in no way certain about this, wealth is not an immutable aspect. Banning vast leaps in medical technology (very possible in the near future) disabilities and racial traits will remain the same throughout a persons life. Wealth can change, in some cases quite rapidly.