I may be the only grandmother there tomorrow who isn't wearing a sweatshirt with something like this on it. I had a nice Grandmother sweatshirt my daughter got me, loved it, but Otto is almost nine years old now, and I have gained a size (at least) since he was born. And moved. Don't know where the shirt went. Maybe in the tote box labeled Clothes that Don't Fit.
Tomorrow? Grandparents' Day at Otto's school. I will drive an hour each way for the pleasure of watching his classroom on its very best behavior for half an hour. And refreshments. We women will look at each other and smile; all grandmothers know the same things.
It has me thinking about just what those things are. Say, the preciousness of an individual life, the resonant depth of connection. Is that understanding you can teach? How? Not by lecture or even dharma talk, I suspect. And---if you stop to think about the wars you've known in your own lifetime---maybe it's the single most important question: how can we teach those truths so they are deeply known, felt in our bodies, so that killing other people is out of the question?
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