Christmas Letters from Karim and Josephine
We’ve long wanted to sponsor kids abroad, and this year our family finally did it. We sponsored two kids in Sierra Leone — Karim, and Josephine.
Both are without parents, the remnants of civil unrest a number of years ago.
Their letters stuck me. If anyone has a right to be bitter, or unhappy, or faithless–it is these children. Yet, you can feel their hearts through their words, and despite all of the tragedies and tribulations that have befallen them in their young lives, they are genuinely happy, and are with hope.
I juxtapose their attitude and outlook with my own, their personal trials with my own, and I am ashamed.
Thankfully, their attitude and hope are infectious, too.
If you really desire hope amid personal despair, and comfort amid personal uncertainty. . . may I humbly suggest you go out and help somebody. It will change your perspective, and will feed your soul. Though the ‘helped’ do recieve, the ‘helper’ is the true beneficiary.
Collaborative Photo Experiment
I was driving to work the other day, saw the sunrise and pulled over. On the side of the road I admired it for a couple minutes. Gorgeous. There it was, just cresting the horizon, setting the sky on fire. And it donned on me–in New York, if somebody else had pulled over to look at the sun the same moment as I, this same ball of fire would be full in the sky.
I seemed so small, and it so big. If it had eyes, that same sun, just getting a glimpse of me, would have been admiring how many others for how long.
This got me to thinking: how cool would it be to have a picture diary–if you will–of the same sun, taken from the same direction, preferably at as close to the same lateral, at the same moment in time, from locations across the country? It would effectively allow the viewer of the diary to see what the sun sees in a given moment.
I wonder how hard it would be to gather 20, 30, 50, or more people to make something like this happen? All photographers, I think, should be asked to include some diary entry–something going on in their life, their town, their family.
It would be a project that tells many micro-stories that, tied to the over-arching theme of big and small, would have an opportunity to convey a macro-story. Besides, if the pictures were good enough, and the diary entries interesting, and quirky, and heartfelt, and humorous . . . could be a good coffee-table book maybe worthy of publishing.
What would be the best way to put a grass-roots ameteur collaboration like this together?
If we could gather enough interested parties, we could then map out picture locations, set a date and time, and put something together. We’d need to establish some ground rules, as to really make something out of this the we’d need to collect good, quality photos–preferably time stamped for proof that it was the same moment in time.
If we did this, we could make a double feature out of it and do the same thing for sunsets as well.
I don’t know. Maybe I’m a dork, but I think it would be kind of a cool collaboration, accomplished with a bunch of strangers from all over the country that would otherwise have no opportunity to meet, or to know/acknowledge ever existed.
How would we go about organizing something like this?
How many Americans
get their news from Conan O’Brien?
And how do we start a grass-roots movement wherein we take back our government?
I don’t know about you, but most folks I listen to, do not feel that their ‘representatives’ in government, at all levels, are actually ‘representing’ them.
Sad. If it’s the majority, then how do we fix it?
Literary Agents
Folks. I would love some leads on Literary Agents who handle Fantasy/SF.
I’m 450 manuscript pages into my novel, and frankly, I’m frustrated beyond belief . . .
On the one hand, I could submit unsolicited . . . 3 chapters (been there, done that) and an outline. But it seems chances of setting the hook are low.
On the other hand, I can submit to literary agent . . . complete manuscript. Holy cow, I just want to get things moving. I’m continuing to write. And write. And write.
I desire some direction. What is the best way to go? What nets the greatest chances of success?
I have a story. I’m telling it in secret, but I think there are many folks out there that would also like to become part of it.
Anyone with any leads, contacts, friends, family members related to, possessing acquaintances to, Literary Agents dealing with Fantasy/SF, I’d love to connect.
Joe
Post Thankfulness
Thank goodness.
I promise, I was not a morose, contemplative, lay-about this past 4-day weekend. Nevertheless, I did spend time pondering things of Thanksgiving and Thankfulness. It struck me that it seems too easy–flippant, even–to jump on the ‘Thankful Bandwagon.’
Thank you for taking care of me. Thanks to everyone who makes me happy. Thank you for giving me this or that. Thank you for sacrificing for me.
I, too, fall into this rote, robotic process of generic ’Thanksgiving’ as well. I think a better way to approach this–to really convey the genuine heart of our appreciation–requires specifics.
I say that I am:
Thankful for my wife. For my kids. For my family. For my friends. For all of these things and more.
But why? Specifically?
Were it not for my wife, I wouldn’t have my children. Were it not for my wife, there would be no home worth going to. Were it not for my wife, I might not know happiness in this life. When I am a grouch, she puts me in my place. When I am a dreamer, she feeds the fire and encourages me. When I fail, she puts it into perspective. When I succeed, she celebrates. As well, she allows me to be part of her world, of her dreams, of her failures and successes–she allows me an opportunity to return to her, what she gives to me.
My kids. I am thankful that they are far more patient with me than I probably am with them. They teach me grace. They teach me the simple love that is far more pure, far more unrefined and so very genuine and overpowering. Where my wife encourages me to dream, my kids teach me how. They teach me that there are no rules to dreams, no boundaries. They are kind enough to lend me their eyes every now and again, to see the world, to see our family, from a completely different–and better–perspective.
I am very fortunate to come from a family that knows it’s place in the world. Aliens, every one of us, in a land not our own. Just here visiting. I was fortunate to grow up with a family that knows better than to take itself, or any individual member, too seriously. My family makes fun of itself and each other, and we laugh. We laugh until we cry. Over silly things that have no right being so darn funny. And better, my family is probably like yours–where secretly, in the dark closet where we hide the real family–all humor, despite attempts at the high-brow and academic, eventually give way to flatulence jokes and bathroom humor. My family is wonderfully, adorably, unapologetic for being unpretentious and blue-collar.
And my friends. There are a few of them, thankfully. Closer in the past then we are now, I suppose, but understandably so given we are all now mid-journey in our own stories. Wives. Kids. Careers. Travel. War. I am thankful, though, that as we come closer to the later chapters, the same friends will be there, to come together and join stories again. It’s not common for elementary school friends to still hang-out–but we do. We will.
Pondering all of this, I discovered I’m far more thankful, to far more people, then I let on. I need to change that. It is interesting to me to see how people change, how their demeanor changes, how their prespectives change–how their lives change–when they know, really know, that what they do is making a difference, that by just being here, alive, with you and I, they are making a difference for somebody.
It is affirming, emboldening, and necessary.
I know it’s post-holiday, and we are all officially off the hook for pouring out any further Thanksgiving–but take a moment and buck the system. Break the rules. Take a moment and tell somebody specifically why you appreciate them.
You’ll be glad you did.
