I spoke with a friend recently who had fallen on tough times. He was prepared to work. He has skills that would benefit a potential employer.
But he was unable to find a job. He has little money. And, although I know that his current situation is at least partly his own doing, it’s sad and frustrating to see ambition and skills be wasted in professional torpor.
I read not long ago that businesses in the United States are literally sitting on trillions of dollars that could be invested, but they’ve decided instead to keep the money in the bank, because they’re uncertain about the future economic environment in which they will operate. In particular, they are concerned about what may happen to their costs if and when the more serious and costly of the next phases of the new healthcare legislation.
They are concerned about the costs of compliance current and future regulations. They see that a project like Keystone, which promises at least 20,000 new jobs and probably a far higher impact on indirect employment, has been shelved till – what? – after the 2012 election? Come on!
There is no real secret to what ails us – get businesses in America back onto the playing field. Provide a tax and regulatory environment in which they’re encouraged to take reasonable risks with their capital. Reduce taxes and let them keep more of their earnings.
They will hire to obtain the resources to make money for themselves, rest assured. The lure of making money is an elixir on which we can always count.
Stop the crony capitalism that picks business winners and losers by the criterion of who they know, and not what they know.
Allow businesses that habitually underperform because of uncompetitive quality or costs to fail.
Start telling the truth about the real unemployment rate. Adjust for reported reductions in unemployment simply because the chronically unemployed have stopped looking. Include the impact of underemployment in the monthly reporting, where many of those who have found new jobs are working part-time, for vastly lower salaries than their previous jobs.
Chronic unemployment or underemployment cannot help but affect the individual, and collectively ourselves. It is a putrid stain on the soul. It can and must be exorcised, by the still-powerful engine of economic growth currently dormant in our nation.
Atlas has shrugged. He’s sitting on the sidelines, watching and waiting. Let’s get him back in the game.
Jerry LaVaute is a special writer for Heritage Newspapers. He can be reached at glavaute@gmail.com or call 1-734-740-0062.
Saturday, December 31, 2011
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
A Christmas Giving story
As Noah began his second year Christmas shopping, the shopping carts were filled with toys and clothing.
Some years ago, we began a tradition in the family where we would donate money or some sort of work to a worthy cause before Christmas.
That morphed into a project that my son Matthew and his wife Crystal began about three years ago. It has grown by leaps and bounds, and the rest of the family, including my wife Jan, my daughter Kelly and her boyfriend Chris, my grandson Noah and our friend J.D. participated in the project on Sunday evening, when they descended on a local store and spent several hours shopping.
It is a project that won’t actually be completed until later this week, as toys, clothing and fully-prepared Christmas dinners are distributed to several families with 16 children, whose ages range from 2 to 17 years old.
Included among the gifts were a bicycle, a Wii, three iPods, three Nintendo DOS's, seven video games, Legos, makeup, dolls, shirts, coats, hats, scarves, mittens, socks, underwear, coats, shoes, bed sheets, blankets, boots, fishing poles, fishing gear, board games, the game Elefun, Cabbage Patch kids, arts and crafts, clay, bean bags - and the list goes on.
And in the note from my son Matthew, telling his friends about the results, he adds: “We simply can't thank you enough for supporting the families that we bought Christmas for this year. The generosity of our friends is amazing and we are simply amazed each and every year.”
Most of the time, I’m just proud of my children and their friends. Sometimes, however, I burst with pride. Job superbly done, guys. Merry Christmas.
Most of the time, I’m just proud of my children and their friends. Sometimes, however, I burst with pride. Job superbly done, guys. Merry Christmas.
Jerry LaVaute is a special writer for Heritage Newspapers. He can be reached at glavaute@gmail.com or call 1-734-740-0062.
Saturday, December 17, 2011
Who is John Galt?
I just finished watching the first part of a movie trilogy titled after the 1957 novel by Ayn Rand, “Atlas Shrugged.” The movie was released in April.
On a scale of one to 10, I would rank it an eight, maybe a nine. The pace was fast, the subject matter engrossing, the acting was decent, at times captivating. The movie’s immediate relevance jumped off the television screen, and its occasional beauty was stunning.
The soundtrack is compelling. You are carried along by it as the camera sweeps across a landscape or moves among the characters seated in an office, and it complements the movie in a way not often done. I downloaded it on iTunes this morning and am listening to it now.
When I was in high school working at a newspaper, I met a man who introduced me to Rand’s ideas, via a novel she wrote in the 1940’s, titled “The Fountainhead.”
When you read Rand’s books, you won’t mistake her prose for that of Thomas Wolfe. But the ideas embodied in her sometimes-wooden characters and strained, stilted dialogue are eloquent, and occasionally the writing soars:
“Howard Roark laughed. He stood naked at the edge of a cliff. The lake lay far below him. A frozen explosion of granite burst in flight to the sky over motionless water. The water seemed immovable, the stone flowing. The stone had the stillness of one brief moment in battle when thrust meets thrust and the currents are held in a pause more dynamic than motion. The stone glowed, wet with sunrays.”
If you care to see the movie “Atlas Shrugged Part I,” and are willing to gamble on being inspired for a short while, it’s now on DVD. And, if you’re really ambitious, read her books.
Jerry LaVaute is a special writer for Heritage Newspapers. He can be reached at glavaute@gmail.com or call 1-734-740-0062.
On a scale of one to 10, I would rank it an eight, maybe a nine. The pace was fast, the subject matter engrossing, the acting was decent, at times captivating. The movie’s immediate relevance jumped off the television screen, and its occasional beauty was stunning.
The soundtrack is compelling. You are carried along by it as the camera sweeps across a landscape or moves among the characters seated in an office, and it complements the movie in a way not often done. I downloaded it on iTunes this morning and am listening to it now.
When I was in high school working at a newspaper, I met a man who introduced me to Rand’s ideas, via a novel she wrote in the 1940’s, titled “The Fountainhead.”
When you read Rand’s books, you won’t mistake her prose for that of Thomas Wolfe. But the ideas embodied in her sometimes-wooden characters and strained, stilted dialogue are eloquent, and occasionally the writing soars:
“Howard Roark laughed. He stood naked at the edge of a cliff. The lake lay far below him. A frozen explosion of granite burst in flight to the sky over motionless water. The water seemed immovable, the stone flowing. The stone had the stillness of one brief moment in battle when thrust meets thrust and the currents are held in a pause more dynamic than motion. The stone glowed, wet with sunrays.”
If you care to see the movie “Atlas Shrugged Part I,” and are willing to gamble on being inspired for a short while, it’s now on DVD. And, if you’re really ambitious, read her books.
Jerry LaVaute is a special writer for Heritage Newspapers. He can be reached at glavaute@gmail.com or call 1-734-740-0062.
Take me home, country roads
I was driving home from Canton a few days ago, after a trip to the bank. As I drove south on Canton Center Road, I wondered whether to head east to Haggerty Road via eastbound Michigan Ave., or drop farther south on Belleville Road, and head east on Van Born Road.
There are many things that I like about the Belleville area after living here for 34 years, but one I’m reminded of at least weekly is traffic – more specifically, the absence of it.
An evening drive headed south on Sumpter Road from town is like a trip back in time – farmland, minimal traffic, clear view – the absence of roadway tension, unlike I-96 or I-696 or Orchard Lake Road, is refreshing. Even the I-94/I-275 freeways in the area are a reasonably pleasant trip.
That day on the way home from Canton, I decided to go via Van Born Road, and I was reminded again how great a road it is – from Belleville Road eastward, the road is smooth, there are no stop signs or traffic lights until you reach Haggerty Road, and it’s a pleasant, unimpeded, safe drive at the posted speed of 50 miles per hour – clean and green. In fact, at times you don’t see any traffic.
It got me thinking about roads in the area - those which I like, and those of which I’m not fond. I remembered that Norm DeBuck of the New Lawn Sod Farm has in the past spoken highly of Rawsonville Road, but I’m often uncomfortable driving it. It’s a relatively narrow road for the traffic volume and there are few turning lanes. It needs improvements.
My daughter Kelly was involved in a bad accident on Rawsonville Road over a decade ago. She was pulling out from the parking lot at Pinter’s after working there on the afternoon of Father’s Day, in June.
After a southbound vehicle passed her by as she waited, she turned left and was struck, hard, by a northbound vehicle. She had forgotten to look south before pulling into traffic on Rawsonville, and the oncoming car was shielded by the vehicle headed south. She was surprisingly OK – thank you, Ford engineers – and we celebrated Father’s Day together later that same day. But it reinforced my attitude toward traffic safety on Rawsonville Road.
And don’t get me started on Haggerty Road – those haut relief ripples in the road every few hundred yards on Haggerty were rudely jarring. As you drove north or south, you began to anticipate the collision with the road surface, and inevitably wondered about the damage to your tires, your wheels and your undercarriage – yours as well as the vehicle’s.
I use the past tense referring to these ripples on Haggerty because, blessedly, Wayne County ground down the ripples a month or two ago, and the ride is much better. Would that it could have been done much sooner – it seemed like a simple operation, with high benefit at relatively low cost – a good value.
When I lived in town, I often traveled Huron River Driver Drive toward Rawsonville, well before the subdivisions were built. It is a pleasant, winding road, with the lake on the right – kinda peaceful, pastoral.
But I almost got killed on Huron River Drive, one Sunday morning. Norm DeBuck and I were running together, toward traffic, alongside each other on the road’s shoulder. There wasn’t a lot of traffic, but a vehicle behind us decided to pass a slower-moving vehicle, and as the vehicle passed, it came within inches of me, running on the shoulder of Huron River Drive. It’s still amazing to me that the driver couldn’t wait a moment or two to get past me before attempting the passing maneuver. It’s a jungle out there.
But I go on. What are your favorite, and least favorite roads in the area, and why?
Write in and we’ll publish the most interesting answers.
Jerry LaVaute is a special writer for Heritage Newspapers. He can be reached at glavaute@gmail.com or call 1-734-740-0062.
There are many things that I like about the Belleville area after living here for 34 years, but one I’m reminded of at least weekly is traffic – more specifically, the absence of it.
An evening drive headed south on Sumpter Road from town is like a trip back in time – farmland, minimal traffic, clear view – the absence of roadway tension, unlike I-96 or I-696 or Orchard Lake Road, is refreshing. Even the I-94/I-275 freeways in the area are a reasonably pleasant trip.
That day on the way home from Canton, I decided to go via Van Born Road, and I was reminded again how great a road it is – from Belleville Road eastward, the road is smooth, there are no stop signs or traffic lights until you reach Haggerty Road, and it’s a pleasant, unimpeded, safe drive at the posted speed of 50 miles per hour – clean and green. In fact, at times you don’t see any traffic.
It got me thinking about roads in the area - those which I like, and those of which I’m not fond. I remembered that Norm DeBuck of the New Lawn Sod Farm has in the past spoken highly of Rawsonville Road, but I’m often uncomfortable driving it. It’s a relatively narrow road for the traffic volume and there are few turning lanes. It needs improvements.
My daughter Kelly was involved in a bad accident on Rawsonville Road over a decade ago. She was pulling out from the parking lot at Pinter’s after working there on the afternoon of Father’s Day, in June.
After a southbound vehicle passed her by as she waited, she turned left and was struck, hard, by a northbound vehicle. She had forgotten to look south before pulling into traffic on Rawsonville, and the oncoming car was shielded by the vehicle headed south. She was surprisingly OK – thank you, Ford engineers – and we celebrated Father’s Day together later that same day. But it reinforced my attitude toward traffic safety on Rawsonville Road.
And don’t get me started on Haggerty Road – those haut relief ripples in the road every few hundred yards on Haggerty were rudely jarring. As you drove north or south, you began to anticipate the collision with the road surface, and inevitably wondered about the damage to your tires, your wheels and your undercarriage – yours as well as the vehicle’s.
I use the past tense referring to these ripples on Haggerty because, blessedly, Wayne County ground down the ripples a month or two ago, and the ride is much better. Would that it could have been done much sooner – it seemed like a simple operation, with high benefit at relatively low cost – a good value.
When I lived in town, I often traveled Huron River Driver Drive toward Rawsonville, well before the subdivisions were built. It is a pleasant, winding road, with the lake on the right – kinda peaceful, pastoral.
But I almost got killed on Huron River Drive, one Sunday morning. Norm DeBuck and I were running together, toward traffic, alongside each other on the road’s shoulder. There wasn’t a lot of traffic, but a vehicle behind us decided to pass a slower-moving vehicle, and as the vehicle passed, it came within inches of me, running on the shoulder of Huron River Drive. It’s still amazing to me that the driver couldn’t wait a moment or two to get past me before attempting the passing maneuver. It’s a jungle out there.
But I go on. What are your favorite, and least favorite roads in the area, and why?
Write in and we’ll publish the most interesting answers.
Jerry LaVaute is a special writer for Heritage Newspapers. He can be reached at glavaute@gmail.com or call 1-734-740-0062.
Friday, December 9, 2011
Vacationing with Noah
My wife Jan and I watch my 18-month old grandson Noah once each week, and we look forward to it. Sometimes we’ll do an activity outside the home with him, but more often it’s playing with him at his home, taking him outside in the backyard, or for walks around the block. I push him in a plastic cart, or pull him in a wagon.
I’d rather push, because I can keep an eye on him. I’m afraid he may stand up without my knowing it, testing himself, but, frankly, I haven’t seen it yet. He’s very well-behaved.
Last week, my wife had a doctor appointment, so my son Matthew installed the car seat in our car, and packed a diaper bag. You forget how much equipment you carry with you when traveling with young children.
The waiting room was large and comfortable. Jan was called in to see the doctor shortly after we arrived, and I remained with Noah in the waiting room.
There were several others waiting, generally people over 60, often what appeared to be married couples. Noah walked up to one or two, and waved and said hello.
As we all sat waiting for something or other, Noah entertained himself and the others in room by climbing, exploring, watching and talking. He found a computer in an alcove, climbed into the chair, and began tapping the keys. He reached forward several times toward the monitor screen and pushed buttons on the lower right, in an effort to turn it on. Fortunately, the on/off switch was reasonably concealed from him.
After a while, Noah’s Amma emerged from the doctor visit, and he greeted her return as if he hadn’t seen her for months. He loves his Amma.
It was around time for lunch, and we traveled toward Twelve Oaks Mall, where we settled on a McDonald’s. We were hoping for one with a play land, but that didn’t appear to us. We bought lunch and moved to a table. I asked where to find the high chairs, and the woman behind the counter directed me to the play land, on the other side of the wall from where we were sitting.
The play land is a bit intimidating to the grandfather of a toddler. The kids playing on it are all older and bigger, and the top of the thing is about three stories high.
Noah ate his lunch as we watched them play, and then we turned him loose in the play structure. He slowly, carefully climbed a set of stairs, and as he reached the second floor, I got nervous. I looked at the rules and found that adults were allowed inside, so I followed him up the stairs.
I quickly caught up to him. He looked back, recognized me, and continued to climb.
I began to notice that as we ascended, the ceiling of the structure gradually dropped, so that by its very top, I was on my hands and knees.
My biggest concern was the slide. If he were entirely on his own, it would be OK. But he was surrounded by other busy playing kids, and Noah doesn’t yet understand the protocols of safe slide usage – avoid stopping in the middle of the slide, for instance - with a three story descent.
Fortunately, he decided against a turn on the tall slide, around the same time than Jan said she had found another shorter, safer slide.
We descended the three stories, and found a slide more to his liking. He enjoys being with other kids, and they tend to like him as well. A little girl in particular, maybe four years old, took a strong interest in him and at one point got behind him, wrapped her arms around him, and carried him toward a small room with basketball hoops at different heights.
I asked her to put him down, but she ignored me as she walked past me. Fortunately, Jan had gotten help from the girl’s mother, so Noah was released. He played for a while longer, and we left shortly thereafter – no tantrums, no tears - and Noah fell asleep in the car on the way home.
When I spend time with him, it’s like being on vacation. You are whisked away from your cares and responsibilities, and all that lies ahead is fun with a little boy, whose world grows by leaps and bounds every waking moment. And Amma and Pa are there to show it to him, and to share it with him. It really doesn’t get much better.
Jerry LaVaute is a special writer for Heritage Newspapers. He can be reached at glavaute@gmail.com or call 1-734-740-0062.
I’d rather push, because I can keep an eye on him. I’m afraid he may stand up without my knowing it, testing himself, but, frankly, I haven’t seen it yet. He’s very well-behaved.
Last week, my wife had a doctor appointment, so my son Matthew installed the car seat in our car, and packed a diaper bag. You forget how much equipment you carry with you when traveling with young children.
The waiting room was large and comfortable. Jan was called in to see the doctor shortly after we arrived, and I remained with Noah in the waiting room.
There were several others waiting, generally people over 60, often what appeared to be married couples. Noah walked up to one or two, and waved and said hello.
As we all sat waiting for something or other, Noah entertained himself and the others in room by climbing, exploring, watching and talking. He found a computer in an alcove, climbed into the chair, and began tapping the keys. He reached forward several times toward the monitor screen and pushed buttons on the lower right, in an effort to turn it on. Fortunately, the on/off switch was reasonably concealed from him.
After a while, Noah’s Amma emerged from the doctor visit, and he greeted her return as if he hadn’t seen her for months. He loves his Amma.
It was around time for lunch, and we traveled toward Twelve Oaks Mall, where we settled on a McDonald’s. We were hoping for one with a play land, but that didn’t appear to us. We bought lunch and moved to a table. I asked where to find the high chairs, and the woman behind the counter directed me to the play land, on the other side of the wall from where we were sitting.
The play land is a bit intimidating to the grandfather of a toddler. The kids playing on it are all older and bigger, and the top of the thing is about three stories high.
Noah ate his lunch as we watched them play, and then we turned him loose in the play structure. He slowly, carefully climbed a set of stairs, and as he reached the second floor, I got nervous. I looked at the rules and found that adults were allowed inside, so I followed him up the stairs.
I quickly caught up to him. He looked back, recognized me, and continued to climb.
I began to notice that as we ascended, the ceiling of the structure gradually dropped, so that by its very top, I was on my hands and knees.
My biggest concern was the slide. If he were entirely on his own, it would be OK. But he was surrounded by other busy playing kids, and Noah doesn’t yet understand the protocols of safe slide usage – avoid stopping in the middle of the slide, for instance - with a three story descent.
Fortunately, he decided against a turn on the tall slide, around the same time than Jan said she had found another shorter, safer slide.
We descended the three stories, and found a slide more to his liking. He enjoys being with other kids, and they tend to like him as well. A little girl in particular, maybe four years old, took a strong interest in him and at one point got behind him, wrapped her arms around him, and carried him toward a small room with basketball hoops at different heights.
I asked her to put him down, but she ignored me as she walked past me. Fortunately, Jan had gotten help from the girl’s mother, so Noah was released. He played for a while longer, and we left shortly thereafter – no tantrums, no tears - and Noah fell asleep in the car on the way home.
When I spend time with him, it’s like being on vacation. You are whisked away from your cares and responsibilities, and all that lies ahead is fun with a little boy, whose world grows by leaps and bounds every waking moment. And Amma and Pa are there to show it to him, and to share it with him. It really doesn’t get much better.
Jerry LaVaute is a special writer for Heritage Newspapers. He can be reached at glavaute@gmail.com or call 1-734-740-0062.
Monday, December 5, 2011
Vacationing with Noah
My wife Jan and I watch my 18-month old grandson Noah once each week, and we look forward to it. Sometimes we’ll do an activity outside the home with him, but more often it’s playing with him at his home, taking him outside in the backyard, or for walks around the block. I push him in a plastic cart, or pull him in a wagon.
I’d rather push, because I can keep an eye on him. I’m afraid he may stand up without my knowing it, testing himself, but, frankly, I haven’t seen it yet. He’s very well-behaved.
Last week, my wife had a doctor appointment, so my son Matthew installed the car seat in our car, and packed a diaper bag. You forget how much equipment you carry with you when traveling with young children.
The waiting room was large and comfortable. Jan was called in to see the doctor shortly after we arrived, and I remained with Noah in the waiting room.
There were several others waiting, generally people over 60, often what appeared to be married couples. Noah walked up to one or two, and waved and said hello.
As we all sat waiting for something or other, Noah entertained himself and the others in room by climbing, exploring, watching and talking. He found a computer in an alcove, climbed into the chair, and began tapping the keys. He reached forward several times toward the monitor screen and pushed buttons on the lower right, in an effort to turn it on. Fortunately, the on/off switch was reasonably concealed from him.
After a while, Noah’s Amma emerged from the doctor visit, and he greeted her return as if he hadn’t seen her for months. He loves his Amma.
It was around time for lunch, and we traveled toward Twelve Oaks Mall, where we settled on a McDonald’s. We were hoping for one with a play land, but that didn’t appear to us. We bought lunch and moved to a table. I asked where to find the high chairs, and the woman behind the counter directed me to the play land, on the other side of the wall from where we were sitting.
The play land is a bit intimidating to the grandfather of a toddler. The kids playing on it are all older and bigger, and the top of the thing is about three stories high.
Noah ate his lunch as we watched them play, and then we turned him loose in the play structure. He slowly, carefully climbed a set of stairs, and as he reached the second floor, I got nervous. I looked at the rules and found that adults were allowed inside, so I followed him up the stairs.
I quickly caught up to him. He looked back, recognized me, and continued to climb.
I began to notice that as we ascended, the ceiling of the structure gradually dropped, so that by its very top, I was on my hands and knees.
My biggest concern was the slide. If he were entirely on his own, it would be OK. But he was surrounded by other busy playing kids, and Noah doesn’t yet understand the protocols of safe slide usage – avoid stopping in the middle of the slide, for instance - with a three story descent.
Fortunately, he decided against a turn on the tall slide, around the same time than Jan said she had found another shorter, safer slide.
We descended the three stories, and found a slide more to his liking. He enjoys being with other kids, and they tend to like him as well. A little girl in particular, maybe four years old, took a strong interest in him and at one point got behind him, wrapped her arms around him, and carried him toward a small room with basketball hoops at different heights.
I asked her to put him down, but she ignored me as she walked past me. Fortunately, Jan had gotten help from the girl’s mother, so Noah was released. He played for a while longer, and we left shortly thereafter – no tantrums, no tears - and Noah fell asleep in the car on the way home.
When I spend time with him, it’s like being on vacation. You are whisked away from your cares and responsibilities, and all that lies ahead is fun with a little boy, whose world grows by leaps and bounds every waking moment. And Amma and Pa are there to show it to him, and to share it with him. It really doesn’t get much better.
Jerry LaVaute is a special writer for Heritage Newspapers. He can be reached at glavaute@gmail.com or call 1-734-740-0062.
I’d rather push, because I can keep an eye on him. I’m afraid he may stand up without my knowing it, testing himself, but, frankly, I haven’t seen it yet. He’s very well-behaved.
Last week, my wife had a doctor appointment, so my son Matthew installed the car seat in our car, and packed a diaper bag. You forget how much equipment you carry with you when traveling with young children.
The waiting room was large and comfortable. Jan was called in to see the doctor shortly after we arrived, and I remained with Noah in the waiting room.
There were several others waiting, generally people over 60, often what appeared to be married couples. Noah walked up to one or two, and waved and said hello.
As we all sat waiting for something or other, Noah entertained himself and the others in room by climbing, exploring, watching and talking. He found a computer in an alcove, climbed into the chair, and began tapping the keys. He reached forward several times toward the monitor screen and pushed buttons on the lower right, in an effort to turn it on. Fortunately, the on/off switch was reasonably concealed from him.
After a while, Noah’s Amma emerged from the doctor visit, and he greeted her return as if he hadn’t seen her for months. He loves his Amma.
It was around time for lunch, and we traveled toward Twelve Oaks Mall, where we settled on a McDonald’s. We were hoping for one with a play land, but that didn’t appear to us. We bought lunch and moved to a table. I asked where to find the high chairs, and the woman behind the counter directed me to the play land, on the other side of the wall from where we were sitting.
The play land is a bit intimidating to the grandfather of a toddler. The kids playing on it are all older and bigger, and the top of the thing is about three stories high.
Noah ate his lunch as we watched them play, and then we turned him loose in the play structure. He slowly, carefully climbed a set of stairs, and as he reached the second floor, I got nervous. I looked at the rules and found that adults were allowed inside, so I followed him up the stairs.
I quickly caught up to him. He looked back, recognized me, and continued to climb.
I began to notice that as we ascended, the ceiling of the structure gradually dropped, so that by its very top, I was on my hands and knees.
My biggest concern was the slide. If he were entirely on his own, it would be OK. But he was surrounded by other busy playing kids, and Noah doesn’t yet understand the protocols of safe slide usage – avoid stopping in the middle of the slide, for instance - with a three story descent.
Fortunately, he decided against a turn on the tall slide, around the same time than Jan said she had found another shorter, safer slide.
We descended the three stories, and found a slide more to his liking. He enjoys being with other kids, and they tend to like him as well. A little girl in particular, maybe four years old, took a strong interest in him and at one point got behind him, wrapped her arms around him, and carried him toward a small room with basketball hoops at different heights.
I asked her to put him down, but she ignored me as she walked past me. Fortunately, Jan had gotten help from the girl’s mother, so Noah was released. He played for a while longer, and we left shortly thereafter – no tantrums, no tears - and Noah fell asleep in the car on the way home.
When I spend time with him, it’s like being on vacation. You are whisked away from your cares and responsibilities, and all that lies ahead is fun with a little boy, whose world grows by leaps and bounds every waking moment. And Amma and Pa are there to show it to him, and to share it with him. It really doesn’t get much better.
Jerry LaVaute is a special writer for Heritage Newspapers. He can be reached at glavaute@gmail.com or call 1-734-740-0062.
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