In the United States, there are many opportunities to learn English in a class entitled, “English as a Second Language”, or ESL.  It is offered in a variety of different venues in an effort to help people from other countries learn how to assimilate into American culture.  However, I hear English spoken as a second language in my everyday life as an American, among other native-born Americans.  The first language seems to be slang in its infinite variety: ubiquitous, colorful and sometimes offensive.

Street slang is the first language of many people, young and old.  And it varies within itself.  My only problem with this is that correct English may, in the future, be spoken so infrequently as to be foreign on American soil.  Maybe I spend too much time with teenagers.  I hope I am wrong.

The writing skills of secondary school students is falling way behind both in structure and content.  The use of phones as easy reference has contributed to the fact that knowledge is frequently found in simple definitions on smartphones, without the depth of reading articles or books in their entirety to find the kind of information needed to cultivate critical thinking skills.  This, in addition to the “shorthand” used in texting, has combined to deteriorate their spelling and vocabulary in general.

One of the things I find so difficult to accept, is that it seems to be happening more rapidly, day by day.  And kids are not even aware that they are not speaking or writing English, unless you point it out to them.  Even then, they often don’t believe you because, to them, it sounds wrong.

Isn’t that the way we learn language anyway?  From day one on this earth, hearing is the way we learn language.  We hear the words, the inflection, the tone and other auditory cues that help us learn the meaning of words and the structure of of language.  If the words heard and spoken as a child from infancy are a type of slang, they become the vocabulary that is part of their first language, and English falls into second place.

My main concern lies in the fact that to be proficient in any language, a person must first, hear the language spoken correctly, and second, learn to duplicate the sounds.  Only then can one learn to read and understand it accurately.  I guess my point is that if you, as I do, love the English language, then we must act together and do everything we can think of to promote it.  Any and all suggestions would be greatly appreciated.

Who can look at a baby and not smile?  Not too many of us, I suspect. Of course, part of the reason is because they are so cute and innocent.  However, I think that there is a part of us that is in awe of a brand new person, full of infinite possibilities.  They are truly a manifestation of hope in our broken world.

The scent of a baby, all clean and talced is intoxicating.  An urge to pick him/her up is impossible to contain.  And to hold this precious life in your arms elicits a desire to care for and protect, a concept that is not necessarily nurtured in our materialistic society.

I have a theory, that may or may not have been expressed by any other person, that if a person were to hold a baby at least once a day, everyday, for their whole life, that war would be impossible.  How could one conceive of contributing to such violence if one were regularly, physically connected with a totally dependent, fragile life to love and watch over.

The feeling of a baby in your arms is so wonderfully soft, soothing and sweetly sensual.  I have seen the effect of this on the elderly in healthcare facilities  When they were allowed the chance to hold a baby (under supervision, of course), this experience was able to inject life into an otherwise stoic person.  Tension and melancholy left their bodies as smiles appeared on their faces.  It was transformative.

Babies help us to get in touch with ourselves because they come into our hearts in ways we can’t quite explain.  It can be likened to a spiritual awakening.  When we fully enter into this  experience, we acquire a softer disposition.

If only we could frequently connect with this vulnerable state within ourselves, then perhaps the seeds of peace could be planted in our hearts.  I once attended a peace conference in which the keynote speaker said that vulnerability was at the very heart of peace.  Indeed, it was the opposite of war.

It makes me think, wishfully, “If only this could be so.”  And others may or may not agree with me, but I know that I must do things that make me a kinder, more compassionate person today!  And I think I know how.  I need to hold some babies.

There is a game that is played everyday by masses of people in which nobody can win.  It is called “The Blame Game.”  It can be played by any number of players and there is no time limit or rules.

This is how it goes.  The first player begins by making a blanket statement of fault about any group or individual regardless of truth or proof.  The next player either agrees and joins in the fun, or decides to blame another person or group.  This continues until all possible parties have been blamed for something, or an argument or fight gets out of control.  The game can be picked up again at anytime, and in any place and it can continue until truth breaks through and prevails, or as players die off.

The playing of this game rips at the fabric of our society and our world in such a way as to close open minds and create wars based on fear.  Eventually, all players must come to terms with the consequences of their actions, because of what the casting of blame has caused them to do.

Everyone loses, but the game continues.  Ethnicity, race, religion, sexual orientation, political affiliation and any number of other differences between people can be added to the categories being blamed for life’s ills.

There is no way of calculating all the games that are being played because they are everywhere, all being played at the same time.  It is impossible to tabulate all of the losses.

But can we limit the losses?  I hope so.  If enough people refuse to play, it could alter everything.  Tolerance is the answer.  Tolerance and forgiveness could pave the way to peaceful thinking and change the atmosphere, making it hard to find enough players to even begin a game of blame.

I think we should create a new game.  We can call it “Solutions.”  Players could start the game by offering suggestions for ways to find solutions to real, specific problems and then ask for more ideas.  There would only be winners in this game and it would just continue to be played without an ending.  Minds would begin to open and peace could begin to hover over the discussions spreading an attitude of goodwill.

We can and must decide which game to play.  The choice is up to you and me.  What we decide together will be a major factor in the future decisions of our world.  Let’s make good ones together for the good of all of us.

Reciprocity.  I have always liked this word.  I like the way it sounds and what it means.  According to my very old paperback, Handy College Webster’s Dictionary, it is a mutual exchange or aid; cooperation.  With this definition in mind, it is less like a “if you scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours,” than a naturally-occurring agreement between friends.

A formal connotation defines it more specifically as an exchange of privileges between countries or institutions that flows logically and appropriately.  Either way, it is an issue of being trustworthy and playing fair.

It occurred to me that if we employed this concept in our daily lives, it might foster deeper relationships with others.  This would happen as a result of keeping others in mind before one even thinks of asking for something from them.  By switching the focus of self-interest to a more kindly approach of interaction, we open the door to a myriad of possibilities.

Think back to a time in your life when you needed help and didn’t have anywhere to turn.  Wouldn’t it have been nice to have relationships of reciprocity already a part of your life?  I know that I have formed these relationships with people and they enrich my life.  These people do not need to be your best friends, but they must be people that can be called on in certain circumstances.  You would do the same for them with your particular talents.  This interchange would not be because you feel obligated, but rather that you and the other party are glad to help each other.

Everyone possesses different abilities that can be exchanged with others.  It is my belief that we are all here for a reason that we are meant to discover and share.  The world needs every one of us.  Humanity needs us to learn to be humane.  With all the possibilities that each of us brings to the table of life, it is possible.  

“You need to learn to be satisfied.”  This is something my father used to say.  And it was not said in a pedantic or authoritarian way.  To him, it was a fact.  It was just logical in his way of thinking.  If you learned to be satisfied with what you have and not always want things to be different, then you would be happy.  It was all under your control.  It was just that simple.

When I was young, I didn’t think about any deeper meaning to this phrase.  But as I grew older, I began to see the wisdom of those words.  Learning to be satisfied was a decision, a choice.  It wasn’t a lesson in logic or a rule of conduct.  Rather, it could even be a way to finding internal peace.

Now, let me be clear.  My father was not a philosopher.  He was an honest, hard-working, straight-talking man who would sit and listen to me philosophize, and smile.  He gave me respect and let me talk about philosophy, but was not interested in doing it himself.

So, I feel that he had a wisdom inherent in his being.  It was something he was not even aware of.  It was that close to him.  He exuded this feeling of satisfaction.  It was a huge blessing to have him as my father.

But, let me get back to internal peace.  I think that satisfaction in the form of gratitude creates a peaceful spirit.  To think of all we have as being gifts to us, brings deep contentment, if we allow it.  That’s it, in a nutshell.  Learning to be satisfied is a significant concept.  Or maybe I have thought about it too much.

All I really know for sure, is that I remember his words and the actions that went with them.  He was a good man, content with what life had offered to him.  He believed in God and in blessings.  He wanted me to feel satisfied like him because it was a good way to live.  And that is something that brings me great satisfaction.