dangerousmeta!, the original new mexican miscellany, offering eclectic linkage since 1999.

The folks who I knew through the Children’s Home Society were all WWII vets (husbands and *some* wives). They accepted responsibility without comment, took care of ridiculous numbers of orphaned children for the joy of it.  Ever seen 70-year-olds walking the floors at night trying to calm crack-addicted newborns? I have.

You’ll excuse my romanticism if I put them on a pedestal. Brokaw’s characterization works particularly well for the subset I knew and loved. America’s orphans won’t see their like ever again, I fear.

You’ve noticed, I’m sure, this took a while to compose.

First off, Elise, let me apologize to you. I should have asked Emmett to have you relate some of the experiences I’ve forwarded to you on FB.

That being said, my impression has always been that Emmett and I pull no punches in friendly banter. I expect the best he’s got, and I hope he expects the best I’ve got. I fully realize and appreciate what he’s doing for and with you, as much as I can from a distance through internet filtering. If I ever seem to cast aspersions his way (or anyone’s way), please tell me so in plain language. I have no intent to make an argument *personal* by insulting or denigrating. I know I can get terribly focused on an argument, and forget others’ feelings in the melee. I can be quite eloquent - and quite vicious - with words, given my years of writing for this weblog and intentionally kicking up my verbal arguments to joust with the more negative elements of the ‘net. I forget this, sometimes.

You will note, I hope, that I go out of my way to *help* others often. Linking, making recommendations, finding work, sharing contacts. More than is sensible ... most people I help *never* return the favor these days. Both here on the blog and in real life. Noone understands how to be a plain, simple friend anymore. Yet I try not to give up on people.

I’m groaning over this for a reason: My readers who frequently comment in this blog are my rocks, are my *best* readers, my virtual best friends. Their comments are my reward for my efforts. People who crow for my triumphs, give good argument, and whack me when I’m being a butthead.

Emmett is one of my rocks, as are you. Never doubt for a minute that you’re both fully appreciated.

In reference to “Greatest Generation” and orphans: My family took care of orphans, but my father was an orphan as well. His father abandoned him at his mother’s gravesite, the war took all his friends. Circumstances turned him into a very limited soul, one who liked to control his environment - at all costs. I grew up with this. I have had a difficult time overcoming some of those habits he so deeply ingrained in me, that - if not recognized, managed and shelved repeatedly - could have made my life restricted and unrewarding. I continue to manage my own screwed-up perceptions daily. So I both love and hate the ‘Greatest Generation’ myself, if you look at it in a certain light. My childhood was golden, but *not* perfect. Nobody’s is. We all have crosses to bear.

Not every child we took care of had a good outcome, but every foster parent associated with the Children’s Home Society of NJ did their best to give those kids a good foundation to start from. Never a case of abuse, never a case of neglect. Not in the years I was involved.  Social workers controlled the outcomes, and ... well ... I don’t have a high opinion of social workers. We had some good ones, but we knew some bad ones too. NJ State had some terrifyingly awful ones.

I’ve taxed your ears enough, you’ve heard all this before. I’m not familiar with the book you’ve mentioned - I’ll look it up.

And thanks. For your spicy candor, for Emmett, and for everything else.

Hugs for Elise, a firm handshake for you, Emmett. Have a quiet rest of your evening!