The day before last you’d have had to tunnel under your house to feel as low as I did: The dead and the little children of the dead and babies cradled in their coffined mothers’ arms, gad! If you missed that post it’s right here. But today, with Nature shining an innocent sun down on us here in Boston even as She kicks the states to the south square in the pants, I feel hopeful – maybe because of this great picture I found yesterday.
These are the children whose young mother died when the little one was still in her high chair. That’s Julia, in the middle there, who turned out to be about the funniest person who ever lived. And look how happy Robert and James seem. Only my mom still looks sad who was the world’s second funniest person and always said she photographed badly anyway with what she called her ‘rotten-down-turning mouth.’
But look at the mischief in little Julia’s face! And I know James ‘came back’ pretty quick because the Christmas after the death he gaily signed his letter to Santa, “James Sullivan, a fat six-year-old boy,” (this in an era when it was considered safer to have some extra flesh. )
So I ask you: what can children see that the rest of us can’t? And how can we acquire vision like theirs?