"You're going to pay a price for every bloody thing you do and everything you don't do." (Jordan Peterson)

"You're going to pay a price for every bloody thing you do and everything you don't do." (Jordan Peterson)

All that Jaguar, Kia and Budweiser stuff got me thinking about advertising of times-gone-by…Plus, of course, the approaching (well, commercially-arrived)?season does promote nostalgia too.

Whether you want to “smell like a man”, “think different” ?or “just do it”; we all have memories of commercial catchphrases that have lodged deeply into our minds and, often, our hearts - and, “I’m lovin’ it”!

So, let’s go places”, “open happiness” and believe that “life is good” - and it can be whether virtual or IRL - as long as we distinguish the two. ?

Social media is not life regardless of how much you “broadcast yourself” and, all too often, the chocolate does melt in your hands…especially if you’re caught squeezing the Charmin…(or pretty much anything else, these days).

Still, our experiences here can be “mmm mmm good” if we “think outside the bun” and don’t insist on having it all our way. ?Just “because I’m worth it”, doesn’t mean you aren’t too. ?“Every little helps” “for successful living” and we all “go further” when we go together rather than alone - it is then that “we bring good things to life”. ?When “you care enough to send the best” you truly can “be all you can be”. ?But, always “dream bigger” than yourself,?“reach out and touch someone" and make their day (but without the 357, Dirty Harry).

I know, I know….I’m forcing it a bit now. ?But, once I popped, I couldn’t stop…! ?At least, up until now. ?So, I shall “have a break, have a quick crap"…no, that’s not right…But, thinking of those M&Ms does make me reminisce and ponder again “what has a hazelnut in every bite?” ?Oh, yes: Squirrel Shit! ?True, my humour can fall short and, certainly, even after decades in my new home, it often falls far short of being in “totally Tropical taste”. ?But, those two Shakespearian comedy quips were the absolute height of indefatigable singing hallway hilarity in my school years…

Nonetheless, my intent in the post segued from the initial trigger - which was the image here: Peptobismol.

My Mother’s first go-to remedy for stomach aches was always flat 7-up (or Mountain Dew, at a push). But, they never worked and, to this day, I still hate the thought of flat soda). But, bizarrely, I still actually enjoy the taste of Peptobismol and, I think, that stems from similar childhood association - it never failed to make my stomach upsets better - and they were an all-too common complaint that, perhaps, should’ve triggered more of a warning than it did). ?I think that also why I like Root Beer and many do not: ?I find a similarity in its taste to Peptobismol and it doesn’t make your tongue go black…

As is my wont in such “sessions of sweet silent thought, I summon up remembrance of things past” and the Peptobismol made me harken back to the simplicity of a mother’s hug and care to ease most, if not all, pain. ?But, I also contemplated on the power of such childhood impacts. ?The fact that I still like the taste of that pink goo because of the nostalgia of its association with my Mother’s care, the fear I see in the eyes of a youth I know when faced with a butterfly, or the angst that crushes another I know when they are offered a biscuit…or the nausea that hits a third at the sight of soggy cereal.

The former was a trigger from their toddler years when they visited a butterfly park and a woman, for reasons known only to her, decided to enter the enclosure even though she clearly suffered from lepidopterophobia. ?At first contact, it seems, she screamed and panicked and the child, witnessing it, of course associated deep in their psyche: butterflies are terrifying. ?It locked in and has take considerable effort on this now adult’s part to begin to overcome the trauma that single, momentary life event had on them.

The second was, again, a childhood event - a simple thing of betrayal when a biscuit they had been given as a reward was taken from them by a trusted figure - for no reason other than selfish amusement. ?

The third - yes, childhood trauma: ?school bullying that resulted in the morning snack, always cereal, being soggy by the time they reached it…

Each of these events was, in the greater scheme of each life, a tiny, fleeting thing. ?But, the timing of the transience was key. ?Some things root themselves and last forever in our deep selves - your mother’s scent, music that brings you to tears for no apparent reason, or perhaps a fetish for shoes, or a favouring for pink, a hatred of cheese - I know of one person that hates cheese unless melted.

From Shipdham News - May 2022
https://www.shipdham.org/wp-content/uploads/May-2022-News_.pdf

Why all the stories? ?Because we forget, we always forget, that childhood is magic - anything seems possible and most things probably are. ?But, childhood is also incredibly delicate. ?Many a sage guru on this platform will pitch gems like “no one will remember how much money you earned or what care you drove, but they will remember how you made them feel”. ?That is true for us all, as hardened, embittered, seen-it-all adults. ?How much more true for the wide-eyed wonderment of a child? ?

What you do matters. ?What you do around children matters more. ?

"I believe the children are our future. Teach them well and let them lead the way. Show them all the beauty they possess inside. Give them a sense of pride to make it easier. Let the children's laughter remind us how we used to be..." ? Whitney Houston, "Greatest Love of All"

I’m a little late in posting this as I’ve just emerged from my own chrysalis of sequestration getting some reports done - first shave in five days this evening! This photo shows how one of my cats decided to break me out from that personally inflicted enslavement. ?

But, nonetheless, I wanted to post it in commemoration of World Children’s Day (November 20th) and to use that moment of reflection to thank all of those that care for our most precious asset, our future and the highest form of our love: ?our children. ?So, thank you to the teachers, to the parents, the social workers, the nurses and doctors and counselors, the nannies and librarians and coaches, the bus drivers and juvenile rehabilitation officers…To all that serve to protect, to educate and to empower our children for the sake of the children and not for vicarious life through them: thank you!


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