The Fiery Quill

I remember you, my sweet friend, the day I saw your furry little face looking back at me from inside your kennel. You stared defiantly, daring me to walk away. And, of course, I couldn't. And so began our time together. You stayed with me through the coldest winter in 50 years, keeping my feet warm as I slept through the night. You greeted me everyday with that kitty smile, that demanding meow; "I'm hungry," you said. Yes, I had to clean up plants that you knocked over and vases that you broke.....but that was who you were. You were naughty, playful, furry. You were always accepting, always there even when I was at my lowest point. You knew when I was sad and quietly came up and snuggled next to me on my beat-up couch. You made me laugh when you attacked your bowl of cat food like it was a wild beast. You'd shake your mouthful of crunchies as if you had a mouse in a death grip. And then you bravely made a 17-hour drive with me, scared at first, but gradually accep...

I was 10 years old then. I had never been on a sail boat before, much less one that lazily traversed the shores of the British Virgin Islands. This was the first time I watched the stars without so much as a streetlight to interrupt them. There were new ports every night, new tastes, new people at every stop. At one of the ports, there was a cafe on the beach. I remember torches flickering and our waiter wore a black-and-white striped shirt. There was music coming from speakers behind the bar, a few people were dancing on the sand. Our waiter saw me, ponytail bobbing to the music, eyes bright and curious. In a lilting Caribbean accent, he asked me for a dance. Eighteen years later, I still remember the feel of the breeze on my cheek and the sand beneath my feet. It was the beginning of a love affair with travel. This experience paved the way for many adventures to come.

Adderall: the newest designer drug for unruly kids. It seems like some parents would rather turn their child over to a powerful drug, then find out why their son/daughter is acting the way they are. However, the lines have gotten so blurred that parents can't tell the difference between a child in need of medication, or one who just might need more attention. The alternative is to spend more time with their child. Instead, I see 8-year-old boys who are too comatose from Adderall (fill-in other ADHD drug) to even respond to a simple question. They just stare, uncomprehending in a drug-induced haze. I wonder if just a little extra discipline (and God-forbid, love) would do far more than a little white pill in an orange bottle? I'm certain it is less expensive to sit and read a book with a child, look into their eyes while you talk to them, then to pay a co-pay at the doctor. And I'm also pretty sure that it is a good deal more satisfying.