My oldest, who definitely doesn't want to be a veterinarian because euthanizing fuzzerses, is currently nursing a suckling baby mouse she found in the basement back to, hopefully, health. She's adorable, petite, and a gawddamn sergeant major in high-school R.O.T.C. (military pre-cadets, in case the acronym doesn't convey meaning outside of the U.S.). Today is wear the uniform day, she had to leave the helpless gray fuzzy thing at home, but first she fed it by hand, wearing her blue-gray skirt and jacket. Somehow, in spite of all my own "hey Beethoven" moments, my own outcastery, my selfishness, this little miracle made herself into on of those non-fakers. Her circle of friends is an island of misfit toys; the bullied, the outcasts; like me, like us. She's their mother, protecting them, nourishing them.
The best thing I learned from my own, somewhat stunted, little father is to find some things worth persevering for, and then never let go of them. Before I was a twinkle in his eye, he'd shellacked a newspaper clipping onto a polished cross-section of tree branch, always to be prominently displayed in his den: “Nothing in this world can take the place of persistence. Talent will not; nothing is more common than unsuccessful men with talent. Genius will not; unrewarded genius is almost a proverb. Education will not; the world is full of educated derelicts. Persistence and determination alone are omnipotent. The slogan Press On! has solved and always will solve the problems of the human race.” ― Calvin Coolidge
I just hope that tiny rodent is still sucking air when Meredyth gets home from school.
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