The Road to Diamond, Day 54: Common Sense

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January 21, 2025- One of the stated principles of the new administration in the Executive Branch is “the return of common sense.” We’ll see.

The concept means different things to different people. As one who used to overthink matters, or rush through things without a thorough thought-process, or sometimes both at once, I began to consistently adhere to common sense, rather late in life. Now, though, even the most random or novel of events are unlikely to throw me off.

There are matters that would appear to be easily decided by common sense-like “two sexes”. That is what is necessary for natural procreation. IVF and artificial insemination also require a male/female interaction. In the world of modern genetics, however, the effects of chemical contamination, from microplastics in the blood stream to adulterated foods, have been more and more evident in the past three decades. Thus, mutations present themselves, across the world of nature, including the human race. Common sense tells me to accept people as they are.

There is the matter of criminal justice. “What constitutes a crime?” is a process that has evolved, since the dawn of civilization as we know it, across the continent of Asia, in northeast Africa and in various parts of the Americas. Punishment of crimes has likewise evolved. Common sense would seem to indicate that a crime has been committed when one or more persons cause injury or death to one or more other people, or when they steal, or cause damage to, public property or the private property of others. This has been complicated, by the notion that public order is at risk, if a certain level of respect is not shown to rulers or other public officials. Common sense tells me that ridicule, alone, does not impede a leader’s , or other official’s, ability to do her/his job. An emotionally secure person can take quite a lot of ridicule.

We will see to what extent common sense prevails, in the next four years-and beyond.

He Did So

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June 22, 2023-The night I came home, inebriated after a party at work, Mother was waiting in the dark. She asked me what time I thought it was, and after my saying it was Midnight, I learned it was 2 a.m. Dad, as it happened was down cellar, doing some work, and came when called. I had already gotten a “Pow in the kisser” by the time he got upstairs. He told me what he thought of me, and it wasn’t anything complimentary, but it wasn’t profane, either.

I think my father stopped using corporal punishment when I was about eight, and even before that, I only remember him spanking me once. As for telling us what he wanted done, it was mainly by force of example. When I was expected to be out in the yard, shoveling dirt or putting rocks in the wheelbarrow, and dumping them along the edge of the marsh across the street, he was already outside determining what area was mine to work, what area was Cheryl’s and, after a few years, what area was to be worked by David. Dad always did the heavy lifting, and built the fire underneath the large boulders, then sprayed them with cold water and took the sledge hammer, to break them up.

When a medical emergency came, for one of my siblings, it was he who flew up and down the stairs, throwing items necessary for an overnight stay, into a cloth bag, then carrying the hurting child downstairs and to the car, while I had my arms around Mom and Sis. He took care of all such crises, as best he could-and it was always good enough, in my book.

Dad applied himself to his work, just as much, though his heart was with us, always. His gift of gab let the time get away from him, when out on errands, but he always made up for it to Mom, with a quality night out or an occasional weekend away, as we got older. He would have choked at the term “Date Night”. Dates, for people of my parents’ generation, stopped at the altar. Thenceforth, it was “our night out”, and either Cheryl, one of our cousins or I minded the younger kids.

What he wanted done, he did as an example-and we were never confused as to how to go about it. That all stopped, thirty-seven years ago today. Thankfully, the road maps left for us are still clear. His image and voice are,as well.