Thanks Cuz

I recently heard from a relative of mine. He wrote to me that he had read some of my blogs and found particular interests in my views about Mississippi. He told me that he didn't realize I had such horrific experiences there and then he wrote something that made me take a step back. He reminded me that he was the one who had to grow up in that environment. I believe his exact words were "hell hole". I never really thought about it like that. He know longer lives there but that is where he spent his childhood years. If being forced to visit this place in the summer times left such a deep impression on my life then I can only imagine what growing up there did to him and the rest of my relatives. I'm a little bit older than my cousin and he no longer lives there. As a matter of fact he came to live in my home town of East Lansing Michigan when he reached his mid teenage years. I'm curious about the stories he has to tell about his time in Mississippi. I wonder how foolish I must look complaining about my one month stays in his "hometown".

I consider myself lucky. I had a mother and a father who participated in my life from the very beginning. My neighborhood was clean and the public school system in my community was second to none. I was never hungry. I was never lonely. I was even spoiled at times. But, most importantly I was safe. It was that safety that let me develop into the human being I am today. I could be wrong but I don't believe my cousin was lucky enough to grow up in that environment. Which makes the fact that he is an intelligent functional young man all the more impressive. I had advantages that he did not and for one month in the summers I was forced to bare witness to this fact. Maybe that's why I have such uncomfortable memories of those summer months. I sometimes wonder if my parents had that intention when they shipped me down south. If their intention was to educate me about how lucky I truly was? If this was the case then I am forced to ask the follow up question...Why was my brother allowed to stay home? Perhaps these are the ramblings of a man who still feels the sting only a sibling can get when they sense unequal treatment by the parental beings in their life. I guess receiving his email reminded me to be thankful for those things that I so easily take for granted.

There are a lot of things I take for granted in my life. There are a lot of people I take for granted in my life too. I get the feeling I'm not the only one in the world who does this. I think taking people for granted is like losing a piece of your body. You've heard of people losing limbs but still feeling sensations in the missing body part. You don't think about how nice it is to have legs, arms, or hands until something happens to them. You don't think about how nice it is to have someone to love or talk to who you trust until that reality is threatened.

So I think I'll concentrate on all the things that are good in life for a while...at least until I hear the next George W. sound-byte.