Back in December, I wrote "Joyfully looking forward in fear" about a baby to be:
I was happy to know that my first grandchild was on the way, but worried about the fearful legacy we are leaving her generation.
In response to the diary, my fellow Badger, Mike Kahlow had this to say:
Bringing a child into this world is one of the most optimistic things we can do.
We fret about what the world looks like, but think back to what things were like when we were kids and compare with now.
When we were kids, rivers were dumping grounds. Pesticides had decimated our birds. Now, there are eagles nesting in Appleton (!) taking their fish out of the Fox River.
When we were kids, women couldn't get many jobs. There were ad sections in the Milwaukee Journal titled "Jobs for Men" and "Jobs for Women". The one local businessman told everyone, loudly, that "there would be women working over his dead body". Well, he's dead, and women are working.
When we were kids, blacks couldn't vote in most of this country. Today a black man is President.
When we were kids, well, I don't even want to think of how we treated those whose sexuality was a little different. Despite Wisconsin's constitution, someday soon they'll have equal rights.
There's a lot wrong with the world and what we're doing with it right now. But our children and grandchildren will take the baton from us and help make it right. I wish we could stick around long enough to see the good things they will do.
Mike's words were what I needed to hear. I'm still uneasy, but hopeful.
The future may be better if we work to make it so.
We may never enjoy the fruits of our labor,
but if those fruits are sweet,
our heirs will have reason to speak well of us.
The love we pour onto the trees we plant
will shelter those who rest and play in the shade.
Dance with the baby in your arms.
Coo to her and sing joyful lullabies.
Bei Mir Bist Du Schön and Hush-A-Bye
A Bushel and a Peck, Teach me how to fly!
My father's ashes are cast on a copper-colored lake.
The shimmer of those waters glistens in my granddaughter's tears.
Sing to those who sleep, to Uncle Aloisius in the south seas.
Sing to those who dance in the pine-scented air of the Penokees.
Tell me a bedtime story of Uncle Vinzenz and apple strudel
Cherish the child of mud and light, of breath and dark water.
A little girl was born today at 5:26 pm after a rather long, hard labor.
7 pounds, 4 ounces.
You may call me grandpa ruleoflaw.