No, I’m not running for elected position; I never learned how to lie that well or convincingly. I was looking at this picture my daughter posted on her site and noticed that off to the side of the huge gantry mechanism built to support the vehicles which take men into space there’s a fairly simple water tower. (click on picture to enlarge) Judging by its appearance the water tower was built long ago; water towers that crop up in neighborhoods all around the country now hide the internal plumbing with all manner of “skins”.
Bonnie’s a “space nut” for lack of a better name; anything to do with astronauts, rockets and space makes her entire face smile. I can take credit for some of her enthusiasm; having similar interests that I may have inadvertently passed along.
We had the opportunity to watch as a brand new water tower was constructed near our house many years ago when Bonnie and Jennifer were very young. Bonnie was old enough to recognize the purpose of elevating the water supply in order to obtain water pressure and went about explaining the science involved. I was impressed with her calculating mind and ability to link all the data to come to the conclusion that it had to be a water tower.
I told the children that the structure was indeed a water tower; but, also part of the nation’s security network of missiles carrying atomic warheads. The newer missiles, slim enough to fit easily into the vertical shaft which also transported the community water supply, were hidden within water towers all over the United States and that our enemies wouldn’t know which ones were simple water towers and which ones held total destruction and death at the push of a button. I made sure to let that special sparkle in my eye attach itself to the smile that crept out from the corners of my mouth.
I grew up listening to the most wonderful fabrications, artful prevarications if you will. My grandfather had me convinced that Soy Sauce was actually made from pigeon’s blood. He had a way of smiling, a sparkle in his eye that let me know that what ever the brown liquid being splashed across my chicken chow mien, it wouldn’t hurt me. I knew that my grandfather loved me and nothing he did or said would ever intentionally injure me; note that I didn’t say that I believed every word he said as “gospel”, only that I knew that it was intended to help me in some way.
I posted on this subject not too very long ago (linked via title bar), time being less important the older I get. It’s a record of my experience while walking with my grandson, JJ, and how much he would look forward to seeing the “dinosaur bones” at the end of the block in our neighborhood. It’s how young people develop a sense of curiosity, a sense of wonder, a sense of humor and how they learn to think out things and come to understand that not everything is exactly as it may seem.
Bonnie’s a “space nut” for lack of a better name; anything to do with astronauts, rockets and space makes her entire face smile. I can take credit for some of her enthusiasm; having similar interests that I may have inadvertently passed along.
We had the opportunity to watch as a brand new water tower was constructed near our house many years ago when Bonnie and Jennifer were very young. Bonnie was old enough to recognize the purpose of elevating the water supply in order to obtain water pressure and went about explaining the science involved. I was impressed with her calculating mind and ability to link all the data to come to the conclusion that it had to be a water tower.
I told the children that the structure was indeed a water tower; but, also part of the nation’s security network of missiles carrying atomic warheads. The newer missiles, slim enough to fit easily into the vertical shaft which also transported the community water supply, were hidden within water towers all over the United States and that our enemies wouldn’t know which ones were simple water towers and which ones held total destruction and death at the push of a button. I made sure to let that special sparkle in my eye attach itself to the smile that crept out from the corners of my mouth.
I grew up listening to the most wonderful fabrications, artful prevarications if you will. My grandfather had me convinced that Soy Sauce was actually made from pigeon’s blood. He had a way of smiling, a sparkle in his eye that let me know that what ever the brown liquid being splashed across my chicken chow mien, it wouldn’t hurt me. I knew that my grandfather loved me and nothing he did or said would ever intentionally injure me; note that I didn’t say that I believed every word he said as “gospel”, only that I knew that it was intended to help me in some way.
I posted on this subject not too very long ago (linked via title bar), time being less important the older I get. It’s a record of my experience while walking with my grandson, JJ, and how much he would look forward to seeing the “dinosaur bones” at the end of the block in our neighborhood. It’s how young people develop a sense of curiosity, a sense of wonder, a sense of humor and how they learn to think out things and come to understand that not everything is exactly as it may seem.
I learned to question the relevance of most everything I heard; good advice for those reading a newspaper, listening to the nightly news, sitting in a classroom taking notes from the teacher/professor or just about any other form of information being handed out as the “truth”. You can see how I was a major pain in the rear as an employee for the Houston Police Department.
Part of a parent’s job, to include grandparents, is to provide a particle of doubt within those young minds, those special relationships in which trust and love are taken for granted. Stewardship opportunities provide moments when being silly or expecting the impossible create a lasting bond along with the teaching element, the necessary thought process of doubting, which process must always be engaged in order to survive.
Part of a parent’s job, to include grandparents, is to provide a particle of doubt within those young minds, those special relationships in which trust and love are taken for granted. Stewardship opportunities provide moments when being silly or expecting the impossible create a lasting bond along with the teaching element, the necessary thought process of doubting, which process must always be engaged in order to survive.
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