Thought while walking-
How long are we remembered after we die? Does anything we do or say survive a third generation?
I know almost nothing of my Great Grandparents. I am lucky to remember their names. Any generation after that, I wouldn’t be able to recognize in a photo or connect them to my life.
My own influence will not be any more lasting.
When our own faulty expectations we heap on others are shattered, we are the only ones to blame. This is not a new revelation to me or most likely anyone who reads this. For some reason, it just sticks out to me today.
Most of my heroes are writers and thinkers, flawed and imperfect as every other human is. Why do I forgive them while I am unable to do the same for people I actually know?
Every child has to come to terms with their parents being just like everyone else.
Love and obedience are not the same thing.
Being right really doesn’t matter.