Forgive and forget

"To forgive is to set a prisoner free and discover that prisoner was yourself." - Anonymous

Learning to share more is a start, but it seems to me that there's something else we need to work on. Another stone we have to dig out of our hearts before we can walk on a new path.

What could be more important than practicing forgiveness?

And very often, we have to begin with self-forgiveness. We have to hold ourselves accountable, to be sure, for the mistakes we make and the hurt we cause. But if we can't forgive ourselves, I don't think we can learn to forgive others.

Not to be preachy, but here's where we can learn from God. The beauty of grace, love unearned, is the lesson we turn to. If we are loved no matter what, then how can we not love others?

And to love, we have to forgive. It's all about the log in our own eye, not the speck in someone else's.

This forgiveness thing isn't easy, but it's the only way we are going to be able to live differently. And like it or not, it starts with each of us. How are we to reconcile if we cannot forgive?

Share and share alike

Probably the first rule I learned as a child, even before "please" and "thank-you," was to share. It was a big deal in our family, not only sharing with each other but also with neighbors and friends.

It was so ingrained in me by age 3 or 4 that I wouldn't accept anything -- a piece of candy, a birthday gift -- unless there was one for my sister or enough to share. Actually, both of our parents preached sharing like it was the second coming. And they were on to something important.

So I got to thinking about this ideal world we want to build, and it seems to me that the first thing we can all do is to share more.

It's easier to share things we don't use or need. But I'm thinking along the lines of sharing more than stuff. Here's a hard one: sharing our time. We can usually acquire more stuff, but time is finite, and we tend to hoard it, don't we?

We can also share ourselves, our stories, our failures and successes. Even better, we can share our talents. Each of us is good at something that someone else needs to know or learn or have done.

Even something as simple as a phone call to a shut-in or a "hello" to a stranger can lift someone else's spirits. I know I want to share more. I just have to look for the opportunities, work a little harder at it.

And the bonus is that it almost always lifts our spirits, too. It's like lighting a little match and passing on the fire. Such a small thing. Such a big impact.

Baby, it's cold outside

This is my Aquarian child, born in the midst of winter.

She was a novelty to her two not-yet-2-year-old brothers who delighted in her, and she was a miracle to me.

She's still a miracle. She seems to have escaped inheriting my worst traits and has always kept her own counsel.

With the boys, she learned to give as good as she got, so she grew up tough yet somehow feminine, though I was never a good role model in that department.

She climbed out of her crib and started walking at 9 months, determined to keep up with her brothers. And she settled for the scarce attention she got, always having to divide up everything (and sometimes that wasn't much) by three.

And, oh, how she loved animals, especially dogs. Right from the
beginning, even though she had to settle for stuffed ones.


Maybe all mothers claim this, but make no mistake: She's really, really smart. And not just smart, but clever, too. And wise. And adorable and funny.

Now she is sometimes known as "Dr. Beth," shown here with her very special Puffycat (left) and her very "pees-wherever-he-pleases" cat Winky.

My birthday wish for her is that she doesn't have to work so hard and that she has more time to herself. But that's hard when you're a full-time vet.

I have lots of other wishes for her, too. She's a perfect daughter, and she's still my miracle child.

Happy birthday, sweet child o' mine.

"Back to old clothes and porridge"

Mary, George's cousin who lives in Scotland, used that phrase at the end of a lovely vacation she and her husband had with us.

The campaign is over. The election is over. The inauguration is over. The party is over. So back we go to our old clothes and porridge.

But that's plenty good enough for me. Nothing gets done when we're in our party clothes, and we know it's time to get things done.

The thing we have to hang on to, the thing we can't put away -- that's the knowledge that we can make a difference. We no longer have the excuse that it won't make any difference one way or the other. Because it does. Now it does. And the hardest thing of all for me will be to listen, really listen to people who have different perspectives. For a tolerant liberal, I can be pretty darn intolerant. That's a personal goal.

Maybe I'll learn something. Maybe I won't.

But it's a place to start. My heart is ready and willing. Now I have to get my head into the act.

Little photos from a big day

Mission accomplished

Watching this moment on a Jumbotron screen near the Lincoln Memorial and the reflecting pool, my voice joined the roar of millions on the Mall yesterday, and we stopped feeling chilled to the bone as we gave ourselves over to the moment.

But wherever you were at that moment, we were all together. And I kept thinking about Martin Luther King's speech where he says something like, "Somehow I can't be what I ought to be until you are what you ought to be." And for a time, everything was right with the world. Anything was possible. There was no pushing, no swearing, nobody throwing trash on the ground, nothing but smiles and embraces and love everywhere.

For me, there were no waits, no lines. Just lots and lots of walking in seriously cold weather with frozen feet and a warm heart.

Yes, we did.

Why it's important

I have no doubts at this moment. No second-guessing.

Even though we got our first snowfall of the winter today, I will not be deterred.

This isn't really about me at all. It's about witnessing history in the making. It's about celebrating the lifting of an ominous black cloud that has hung over the country I love for nearly a decade. As trite as it sounds, it is about celebrating the human spirit -- whatever it is in all of us that allows us to hope, to go on when the road is rutted and dark and dangerous.

Mostly it is for me about seeing joy in the faces of those in the crowd who have waited far, far longer than I have for this moment to come. It's about seeing Martin Luther King's dream come true, his prophecy realized. It's about our country finally doing the right thing, the just thing.

And it's about adding one more body to the human chain of joyous witnesses. One more voice to the chorus of hallelujahs.

And so I'm off. It will be a day to remember.

A pot for every chicken and other inaugural news

Hallelujah! The Washington Post reports today that nearly 7,000, not a mere 500, portable toilets are being installed on the Mall, stretching in a beautiful, gleaming line from the Capitol to the Lincoln Memorial. Somebody came to his senses at last.

And my daughter has procured a Metro farecard for me ahead of time, so I can skip that particular line.

The temperatures are going to be lower than I expected but still nothing like the five degrees we have here today.

It's looking like I may make it to the inauguration after all. And I'm carrying on my shoulders a whole bunch of you who want to go but can't make it, so it seems all the more urgent that I be there.

Plan A is ready. Plan B is simply to bail and backtrack if Plan A isn't progressing. Even the big kahunas who are running this thing can't say for certain how many people are coming and how they are going to manage the crowds. But one thing I'm confident of is this: The crowds will not be ugly or dangerous. I expect people to be in high spirits and cooperative. I don't think I'm going to be pushed onto the third rail.

I'm going to be cold, tired, uncomfortable and probably hungry by the end of it. But so will everyone else. At least I'm able to walk and won't have to worry about losing a companion in the crowd or getting lost, since I know the city pretty well. If I make it, I'll feel privileged to be an anonymous face in the crowd.

So I'm preparing for the starting gun, with my toe on the line.

Yes I can (?)

My simple goal is to be at the bottom of the picture when Barack Obama is sworn in at the top of the picture.

Doesn't sound so hard, does it?

You'd be surprised at how difficult this is going to be. All bridges from Virginia closed to traffic. Impossible to drive. No bus to take. Metro stations jammed with lots of stations closed or designated "Exit only." Street closings, security closings, masses of people clogging sidewalks and streets, overloaded subway cars.

No backpacks, so pockets have to accommodate cell phone, money, I.D., etc., peanut butter sandwich and water and Depends and anything else I can't live without.

And layers of clothes to stay warm. But not so many that I take up too much space like the Michelin Man.

Oh, and a camera to prove I was there. And just think of the viruses and germs in a crowd that size.

And then there's the drive to Beth's house the night before, when the highways will be gridlocked. And figuring out who will take care of the dog.

And all of this to play a bit part in history. Am I nuts?

One week and counting

I can see George W. Bush in my rearview mirror.

Hallelujah!

I don't see how I can stay home, no matter what. Gotta' be there.